If Your Feelings Are Still What They Were Last April, Tell Me So At Once. My Affections And Wishes Have

soft sapphic things

Leaving little notes with sweet & supportive messages in random places for each other.

When she brushes your hair and keeps asking ‘Am I hurting you?’ but you’re the opposite of hurt.

Playing with her hair, because it’s so soft and pretty.

Reading fairytales to each other. Best of all, queer fairytales.

Discovering that you have the same bra size when you accidentally put on one of hers - then having a laugh about it.

Doing silly dances in the living room. Bonus points if the cat joins in.

Taking lavender foam baths and washing each other’s hair.

Putting on green face masks and then taking funny selfies together.

She lights scented candles whenever you come over.

When you’re using her as a soft pillow and she’s using you as a soft blanket.

When you wake up from a nightmare and she’s already awake and ready to comfort you.

Complimenting each other on how nice your hair smells.

Singing along to songs you both like and automatically dividing the harmonies without even having to discuss it.

Knowing each other’s anxiety triggers and being mindful of them + taking extra good care of each other whenever one isn’t doing well.

Reminding each other to take your medication.

There’s always some hair getting in the way of your kisses, ALWAYS, so you just laugh about it.

When she’s been ill for a few days so you cycle through the cold winter night to bring her fresh groceries.

Introducing her to Sappho’s poetry.

Getting ‘friendship necklaces’ together, the type where each of you wears one half of a heart, because you don’t feel whole until you’re together.

When she gives you a little kiss on your forehead, and then another one, and then more, because she just can’t stop.

When you say Good Night and close your eyes preparing to sleep, and then you feel her hand taking yours, like she can’t sleep without the reassurance of feeling you beside her.

💕⚢

Open source everything 

i will never get bored of making autumn aesthetics

They call you a monster with a sneer on their lips like just the thought of you is bitter. They say it with a grin of fake fondness, a joke that you’ve never laughed at. They say it and it doesn’t bother you. Nothing bothers you anymore.

You were a child once. You were a child with golden hair and wide, hazel eyes full with excitement and wonder. Once you wore a smile on your mouth that wasn’t twisted by madness; it was easy and joyful because the world hadn’t crumbled in on you yet. You were sunshine and warmth before they stripped you of your youthful innocence and left you raw and hurting.

You think about how you’ve always had more tears on your cheeks than a smile gracing your lips. You think about how you know the taste of blood in your mouth, the crunch of your own broken bones, the raw flame of being torn apart from the inside out. You wish you could forget.

You’ve been screaming since you were small and you’ve never stopped.

They think it’s a war cry and you don’t tell them differently.

You’ve torn yourself into pieces to try and keep people who don’t want you. You’re used to the ache of broken promises, familiar and old as time. You do not break your promises. You expect others always do.

You were gentle once. A baby bird had fallen from a tree and you placed it in a shoe box. You couldn’t leave it because it’s helpless cries reminded you too much of yourself. You stroked its tiny head and nursed it back to health and set it free. It flew away and you were jealous. You’d been wishing you had wings for years.

You are too much and the world hates it. You hate it too. There’s too much feeling in your chest for your brother, for your cousin, for two boys who trust you to protect your lives and all you can think is “I will do for you what I cannot do for me”.

You keep your promises and you bury your pain. You let them call you monster because it’s easier. You let them call you soulless because it’s easier. You would much rather see their hatred than the pity you know would come in it’s stead.

-you’re not a monster, you’re a shield, c.k.b.

by Angela Moulton

the day that hamilton the musical premiered alexander probably ran screaming through the afterlife flipping every other founding father the bird 

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>see truck next to us on the highway

>it says "off-road"

>look below it

>it's on the road