&&brittle bones.

There is a sacredness in t e a r s. they are not a mark of weakness, but of POWER. they speak more eloquently than ten thousand { T O N G U E S }. they are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition and of u n s p e a k a b l e love.

[milliewillows-blog]

It’s not even like we’re scandalous at the moment, let me fucking sleep.

[venuskinggdi-blog]

I honestly can’t believe i’m going to be twenty-four next year, shit, i’m getting old. I don’t feel like an adult.

[milliewillows-blog]

You’re like really old... Kidding, you look good for mid 20′s. All about the good gene’s.

[calihmu]

So I woke up and almost ran into a camera. Great….

[milliewillows-blog]

I swear they do it on purpose.

[milliewillows-blog]

“Then tell me? It’d be pretty damn helpful. I can’t go round stabbing randomers with a fork.”

[milliewillows-blog]

“I really hope not because I wouldn’t actually want to impale anyone with something I eat with. That was my initial thought, a mint chocolate chip one.”

[milliewillows-blog]

“I swear whoever spilled milkshake over my freshly cleaned make up brushes is about to get stabbed with a pitchfork...or just a regular one ––- But you get my point.”

[royalindulgence]

[milliewillows-blog]

royalindulgence:

Photo http://italian-luxury.tumblr.com/post/86769167245

[opodhartho-deactivated20160503]

[milliewillows-blog]

womaninthewoods:

Something so beautiful about wet city streets and how the headlights reflect off of the pavement.

[wnq-writers]

There are so many layers of me and you haven’t even scratched the surface.

letsdancethroughthestorm (via wnq-writers)

[lovestory]

[milliewillows-blog]

undefined

[nakedly]

[s-o-reckless]

But darling what do you do when it’s 3 am and the only person you have to talk to is the demon in your head?

What do you do when it’s all too real to be so fake? (via s-o-reckless)

[untamedunwanted]

Girls like her were born in a storm. They have lightning in their souls, Thunder in their hearts, and chaos in their bones.

Girls like Her | Nikita Gill (via untamedunwanted)

[linhcindar]

the devil writes in purple glitter pen and has an itch beneath his skin. he kisses others with blood on his lips because he bit his mouth until it was red enough, pinched his cheeks until the color came flooding in. except the devil does not go by “he.” the devil goes by “she.” the devil is probably not much taller than you are; she may even be shorter. she doesn’t watch you at the foot of the bed, but curls up next to you in a sweaty summertime tangle of limbs. her hips sway when she walks down the hallway. you are not frightened when she winks at you. you should be. when you curse the devil, her eyes are downcast. she waits by the bus stop soaked to the bone, just begging for you to share your umbrella with her. (the devil is a damsel tied to a bomb she never told you she built. your sword happens to be perfect for slicing through those ropes.) you expect her to shoo you away or give you a frosty glare when you sit down next to her, but she takes off her headphones to say hello. it’s only ladylike. the devil’s lips are warm and her heart is cold. the devil’s love song is for the rest of her kind; it was never for you.

the devil’s love song || caroline m. (via officialcatwhisperer)

[xod]

[netals]

[a-chromous]