New Killer, Different Name

New killer, different name

Tell me what it was like to pull the trigger To hear shots rang out and the sound of agony escape from someone’s lips Tell me about the weight of the gun against your sweaty palms and the way the bullet clicked into the barrel Tell me how it felt to run Tell me how it felt to be a wanted man Is it everything I imagine? Is it a giant adrenaline rush? Or a constant nagging worry? The kind that’ll make you stand on your toes at all times Or is it the kind where your heart pumps rapidly and your brain craves more of it? Tell me what it was like to see the body hit the floor To see the blood spill out on the cement Were you scared? Did your demons scream in excitement? Or were they simply silent now that they had their wish? Tell me about it. Tell me about adding to a body count About gaining a name in the streets besides being a dealer Tell me anything and leave out no details Did you cry any? Or did you just accept it? You being raised another guy on the block, you followed the rules right? You doing what you was taught right? Your mama did it, you followed in her footsteps Right? Now you like the rest of them, another killer in the streets with a different name

The Girl with a Michelangelo Face

I fell in love with the way she was. An honestly broken mess with a face of a Michelangelo angel. She was a picture colored by a kindergartner, every color blurring together outside of the lines. She was a white t-shirt covered in coffee and makeup stains, with holes in her jeans, and a collarbone that could cut glass. And when she looked at this ugly world, she smiled. She didn’t see the ugly, she saw the curiosity and passion of it. She was a different kind of soul. She was the girl who ripped her heart out and placed it in my trembling hands with the words “It’s yours now. Keep it safe and sound would you?”. I agreed and watched her silently. She reminded me of a brilliant star in a cloudy night. She had a heart bigger than the moon, a galaxy in her mind, the sun in her eyes, and love deeper than a black hole. That’s when I thought to myself, maybe we came together from the same star. Maybe that’s why my broken heart fit into hers. Two broken hearts, in separate bodies that came together as one. -S.G.G

The universe does not love us.

J.T. Barnett (via jtbarnett)

Love is sharper than any knife.

six word story // e–o–b (via just-six)

If you asked me a year ago what love felt like to me, I’d preach of bad jokes and empty beer bottles. A year ago, love was rust-colored hair and freckles. A year ago, love was home to me; my bedroom inside your chest, I was a girl happily tucked away in the tower you built. A year ago, saying your name felt similar to mumbling, ‘I love you’. A year ago, love felt like the heat of the Virginia summer air that couldn’t compete with the warmth our bodies shared when skin-on-skin. A year ago, love was letting sighs out on one another’s neck while your ex-girlfriend was upstairs in bed. A year ago, my chest screamed, ‘give everything you’ve got; this is worth it, this is worth it, this is worth it.’ Nothing was worth the pain we endured. Nothing ever was.

i can’t stand to even look at a photo of you now // Haley Hendrick (via haleyincarnate)