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heyitsemele:

pastelmorgue:

eradicategirlhate:

you ever thought that maybe the reason girls say they’re fine when they’re not, or they’re not mad when they are, is because the second they show any semblance of emotion they’re written off as hysterical bitches that are probably on their period?

THE FUCKING DA VINCI CODE HAS BEEN CRACKED

Reblogging again, because this will never be irrelevant. 

(via myteddybearzing)

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"I love them in museums, on buses, sitting compact
in trains and on airplanes, running their fingers
through their hair, drunk at parties, stumbling home,
long-limbed and full of awkward grace, boys, yes,
lay on top of me or lay beside me, breathe light into
my ear. I love them angry and confrontational or soft
and philosophical. I want to curl up inside of them,
read their palms, make them pasta and bread
from scratch. I love them kissing me in the backseat
of a taxi cab or alone on the street corner, lost,
trying to find their way home. I love their throats,
their knobby elbows, their spines beneath a soft
cotton shirt. I love them at home, poised readily
over my Keurig, asking which flavor, if I want sugar.
I love their hands in my hair, undoing the braid,
fingernails to my scalp, yes, more, please don’t stop.
I love them in doorways, at the grocery store among
the cereals and unpronounceable cheeses; I love them
at night, pale shadows under lampposts, walking
away from me and into the men they’re going to be."
Kristina Haynes, “Boys”  (via perfect)

(via sexpansion)

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