愛してるよ、シンジ

自分の美しさ、まだ知らない。
There is nothing special about me.
I am not a cup of tea or coffee
every Sunday morning.
I am not the same as your thoughts
when it’s Friday while you’re on your way home.

I am a Monday morning,
my skin cracks every night
while everybody else is asleep or having sex.
I am an awkward sadness
and a desperate apology letter.

Loving me will always be a disaster,
my skin is muffled by dark clouds and loud a thunder.
There is nothing special about falling in love
with a storm who can easily destroy everything,
including herself.
8 am with gray words // melody c.  (via pakalmot)

(via eletheowl)


Work by ゆ香
nevver:

Up all night
Everyone always wants to know how you can tell when it’s true love, and the answer is this: when the pain doesn’t fade and the scars don’t heal, and it’s too damned late.
—Jonathan Tropper, The Book of Joe (via avvfvl)

(Source: petrichour, via eletheowl)