I don’t know if this is called love but all I know is when you speak to me it’s the best thing in my day, my week hell, even my year. I don’t know if it’s called love but all I know is when your eyes look into mine, I can hear every love poem in the world and I want to write them all down but I can’t. All I know is when you leave its like there’s a hole in my chest and I swear it feels like a part of me is missing. I don’t know if it’s love but I sort of do at the same time because you and your stupid brown eyes are in my head every second of every day and I could write novels about your hands and maybe I’m just scared to call it love? I don’t know.
Your secrets are safe here (via thelovewhisperer)












