new outfit post is up. click-through for more pictures. details:
boater hat (similar)
Sheinside dress c/o
Choies sandals
bag from Camden market
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If I should have a daughter, I will not buy her Barbies because I don’t want her to grow up thinking that the only way to be pretty is by being skinny, blonde and tall. So in place of dolls, I will buy her Play Dohs and Legos and tons of papers and art materials so that early on she...
- me flirting: that’s a sharp outfit. careful, you could puncture the hull of an empire-class fire nation battleship, leaving thousands to drown at sea. because it’s so sharp.
Date a girl who travels. Date a girl who would rather save up for out of town trips or day trips than buy new shoes or clothes. She may not look like a fashion plate, but behind that tanned and freckled face from all the days out in the sun, lies a mind than can take you places and an open heart that will take your for what you are, not for what you can be
(via at-home-in-nature)
I have survived a lot of things:
High school, hormonal acne, his weight on top of me.
I’m either falling in love or running away from it,
fire constant in my brain, staying even after I am left.
This is not a poem that demands pity. Someone told me once
that you begin to be afraid of the person you love.
While my parents argue loudly in the room below mine,
I paint my toenails. I read the fashion magazines I horde
under the bed. Blow dust off of snow globes. Shake them.
I recite poems sitting on the window ledge, let down
my long hair. Three cups of coffee or don’t bother,
or go back home, or stay in bed. Sometimes, but only most
of the time, taking care of myself is difficult. I don’t always
ask the right questions. I forget to take out the trash because
I tell myself that my boyfriend will do it. I don’t have
a boyfriend. When my hands start to shake, I hold them.
Kristina Haynes, “I Have Survived A Lot of Things” (via fleurishes)
Teach me poetry by way of your smile, by the touch of your fingertips on my chest as you feel the echoing beats of your name. Let me write you in cursive by way of your body movements, as you dance ever so gracefully on canvas. I want to learn your lips by way of a kiss, that I may remember the feeling of your breath in my lungs that no wind can ever do. Let me learn the tears you have shed that I may paint love in colors, tangible and soothing for your soul.
The only way for me to learn you is to be with you // Pablo Verzosa (via thelyric)
roddi
