Mrs Montgomery Alabama
Cut my hairs off.

Cut my hairs off.

It is dreadful when something weighs on your mind, not to have a soul to unburden yourself to. You know what I mean. I tell my piano the things I used to tell you.
Frédéric Chopin (via cattedrali)
Friends.

Friends.

A poem, or something of the sort.

There she was standing so tall on her pile of pebbles. Ready to cast one at anything that drifts by. Hard as stone were her insides as she stood proud like a statue. Never let’s anybody see her move. But the longer she holds her ground the more mangled she becomes. She has vanity running through her veins. She flashes her flawless exterior but she’s worn by the weather rooting from her insides. She holds up her vacancy sign but wont let anybody in. Shes disfigured and tortured by the very world she so desperately mollifies. She knows shes beautiful somewhere but she keeps that part to herself. Sometimes I can see it in her eyes, that longing for something more than her shallow shell but those moments are short lived. She is a statue of humanity. She lives inside all of you.

My sweetheart

My sweetheart

Saw mewithoutYou tonight. Amazing. Everything I had hoped it to be.

Saw mewithoutYou tonight. Amazing. Everything I had hoped it to be.

When you’re wide awake and your friend is fast asleep.

When you’re wide awake and your friend is fast asleep.

Hello Tumblr. It has been quite a while.

Hello Tumblr. It has been quite a while.