Pack your things, this place is not your home anymore. The moment they stop loving you is the moment you untangle yourself from their bodies and run as fast as you can to the nearest exit sign, and don’t you dare look back. Don’t you dare look back because they are all cold bedsheets and you want a place to rest your skin. The moment they stop loving you is the moment you force your bones to make a house out of your own flesh instead of burying themselves in the cracked shells of dead-eyed lovers.
this place is not your home anymore. by r.b (via rbcages)
