People always say that it hurts at night and apparently screaming into your pillow at 3am is the romantic equivalent of being heartbroken. But sometimes itâs 9am on a tuesday morning and youâre standing at the kitchen bench waiting for the toast to pop up And the smell of dusty sunlight and earl gray tea makes you miss him so much you donât know what to do with your hands.
Rosie Scanlan, âOn Missing Themâ (via oofpoetry)
I canât believe this poem is still going around⌠I forgot I even had this account. Itâs been years.
(via rosiescanlan)


















