(Source: blowinswishers23)
Shark Week Drinking Game
It was written in the stars.
We can’t have sex. I’ll get attached. No, don’t get me wrong - it’s not that I don’t want to - it’s that biologically and emotionally I’m destined to become attached. I’ll want more. I’ll crave more. I won’t settle for your bones, I’ll want your flesh. From your hands to your knees, from your fingers to your cheekbones, your stomach inside and out to your heart - I will devour you. Your skin will be my canvas; your lips will be my portal. I will destroy every sense of distance between us. I’ll hit you like a fucking hurricane without any means of stopping.
We just can’t have sex. When I put my clothes back on, you’ll be introduced inside my head. I’ll leave and you’ll stay nestling inside creating fantasies and expectations. I will have acquired a taste and my appetite would only get stronger. I’ll engulf you, but I won’t crowd your life. I’ll challenge you, but I’ll keep you sane. I’ll be there even when I’m not and when I’m not, it’s the only place I’ll want to be.
So, we just can’t have sex. It won’t work, it won’t do, it won’t be enough.
Because I’m a woman who knows what she wants and you’re a boy who can’t tell the difference.
of absolute contentment
that fills my slumber.” Daily Haiku on Love by Tyler Knott Gregson (via hopelesslymg)
(Source: tylerknott)
Mmmmmmmfffff
dnl cats but like kittens and this
