I want you. I want your sleepy confused look when you wake up. I want to be the warmth that fills the space in your bed. I want to be the sheets your fingers crave at night; the blanket that wraps around you all night. I want to drink tea with you, share some records we find. I want to talk about everything in the newspapers. I want to discuss with you, to be stubborn and quick-witted with you. I want to have differences between us. I want your flaws. All of them. I want to go into the deepest corners of your mind and never get bored of you. I want to be surprised by the new all the time. I want to look at you like a movie, a living piece of art; always trying to chase what you crave … and capture you. Elay Neal Moses (via willowtreesanddreams)

(Source: hellanne, via horrors-and-sins)

If my thoughts were translated through

a heart monitor, it would be

like mountain lines.

If my thoughts were composed into

a piece of music, the audiences

would cry during the interlude - 

empty, silent

and painful.

If my thoughts were reflected 

in writing, I would be the writer and

I would hope that those chapters did not

exist, ever,

at all.

Oh, the irony.