Were

You were my friend, my lover.
The person I would turn to for help.
A four letter word that leaves you behind.

WERE

The past tense of something that was

There were lustful nights, evenings full of sweet kisses.
There were long nights of laughter.
There were innocent dawns of sober conversations

WERE

You were there, at my window, at my door.
You were there, in my bed, by my side

But you cant be there,
Because you were already there.

figililly:

WOODSTOCK - THEN AND NOW~~~~

Bobbi and Nick Ercoline, both 64, of Pine Bush, N.Y., hold a photo of themselves at Woodstock 44 years ago. The photo graced the album cover of the Woodstock soundtrack and became an iconic image of the festival~~~~~

1,553 notes

peenies:

I hate shirtless white boys who think they’re doing humanity a favor if they call a girl beautiful go get high off your axe deodorant spray

(Source: extental)

308,916 notes

peenies:

I hate shirtless white boys who think they’re doing humanity a favor if they call a girl beautiful go get high off your axe deodorant spray

(Source: extental)

308,916 notes

Love Thirsty Predator

Toxic tears are slowly leaving a trail of poison as they run down her hot cheeks.
Her heart aches with dispair.
She is no comparison to a serpent, nor an arachnid of any type.

She coaxes in her victims, with her soft and sweet voice.
Once she has her prey she slowly poisons them with her promises of love.
They will soon die
And she will be alone once more.
Left with trails of toxicity on her cheeks.

Sick

Swallowing pills.
Pills that claim to reduce the pain.
The pain carries memories of you and I.
Like an illness with no cure,
A cancer that is slowy poisoning my emotions.
The pills only conceal the sorrow for a short while, leaving only glimmering memories of you.

The pills cause hallusinations , and I see you in them.
In bed with me, loving me.
A dark oasis where the stars are the sun and only you and I exist.

But these pills are temporary, and I cant live off the thought of you forever.

A Drink for Tonight

Its one of those nights where you have absolutely no one to talk to and you can’t sleep.
You listen to music, but every song has memories.
You try to read a book but your mind distracts itself by thinking of things unimportant at the moment.
So finally you drink.
Drink to those memories, drink to those unimportant things, drink yourself to sleep.
The bitter taste of alchohol replaces the sweet sugars of those memories, the songs, the unimportant things. The sweet sugars of life itself.

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