dictionary poem xli by keaton st. james
(patreon)
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father // the front bottoms
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“he is lust. he is sex in the back seat of a car. he is hickies on the beach. he is groping in a movie theater. he is ass grabbing in an empty aisle. he is dirty whispers on the phone. he is pressed thighs and lip biting. he is moaned names. he is trembling and goosebumps. he is breathlessness after a touch. he is frustration and dark eyes. he is insanity and clawing nails. he is the pleas of more. he is the begs of not stopping. he is the fantasies that have your hand between your thighs, wishing it was his mouth instead. he is sex. he is lust. he is a drug. one you’ll take with a scream of pleasure and a whimper for another.”
— the dangers of dating a boy who knows exactly what he’s doing. (via tonkinwrites)
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All my teenage years, I had bottled up anger and grief and promised myself I'd never cry but when I sat down with her hands in my hand and looked her in the eye, all the anger turned into tears. I sobbed for hours and she sat there, rubbing my back. That's when I saw. Growing up is also tearing down walls, it's also letting go of the anger.
-Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The Flesh I Burned
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— Amal El-Mohtar, from This Is How You Lose the Time War (via lunamonchtuna)
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𝑖 𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚.
𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝑖 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡'𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑜.
꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱
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I am okay with my small life. I will try to love with my whole heart, I will try to be kind. I am okay with my small life.
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