Lost/Paris
He told me
he’s never met a girl like me.
I asked him,
how many times he has chewed that confession
between his teeth,
until he decides to pull out the rotten ones
so that my body can taste like permanence
inside his cathedral mouth.
My father said,
we fall in love more than once,
but we still love the same.
Like the sun to every leaf,
and the clouds to every drop of rain,
with all of us either a specimen or a microscope.
Even our dirt is recorded and kissed.
I could still taste her in his mouth.
His blisters were blown and healed with band-aids,
and I’m replacing everything she covered
with lipstick stamps.
But she’s the letter isn’t she?
She’s the word and every word after. Lover,
our scars will stay like ancient attractions
for anyone brave enough to climb our mountain bones,
but he was afraid of heights.
I tell him, I am an old lake house.
Everything else floats along the waters
and I am leaking termite thoughts
of heartaches. It will only take another
to eat up my organs and tell me,
I am not permanent, and that was him.
When he said her name while sleeping
I was nothing but ashes, and ashes after
and she was and she still is, fire.

Kharla M. BrilloRebound 
(via pouvoires)
bongsniffer:

scorpieaux:

Okay do you see this line in his back? Like it’s indented. What’s that called? Idk but I love when boys have it

i think its “the spine.” imo

They’re called spinal erectors 
-loner:




"I just need a person" or "I just used a person"

I feel like the original way you read it says something about you.
credit