Flower that paints my back,
covered in scars from that summer
when I couldn’t smile because you left
and I was so sick my face wouldn’t move.
The ink in my skin is infused with memories
of you and your reckless ways
that somehow seduced me into lust,
then love when you decided to go away.Flower that paints my back
holds more than she will ever know.
When I see her in the mirror, I see you,
and I think of my purple hair and your raspy tunes
aided by booze and mary jane; your voice
carries in my brain whether I like it or not
when I see her planted there, forever in bloom,
forever ripe with memories of you.
Flower that paints my back,
covered in scars from that summer
when I couldn’t smile because you left
and I was so sick my face wouldn’t move.
The ink in my skin is infused with memories
of you and your reckless ways
that somehow seduced me into lust,
then love when you decided to go away.
Flower that paints my back
holds more than she will ever know.
When I see her in the mirror, I see you,
and I think of my purple hair and your raspy tunes
aided by booze and mary jane; your voice
carries in my brain whether I like it or not
when I see her planted there, forever in bloom,
forever ripe with memories of you.
(Source: faddydaddy)
Piano’s Perspective (by hannah:rose)
Wait what
I’m not sure if it’ll make a difference. But if you love amoralfictionalism and burningmuse and you’ll miss them on your dashboard, you should reblog this.
:(
I MISS NOELLLLLLELEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I’m crying.
Come back my lover dearest!!!
