(via ileftmyglassslipper)
(via theopendvault)
A man goes out on the beach and sees that it is covered with starfish that have washed up in the tide. A little boy is walking along, picking them up and throwing them back in the water.
“What are you doing, son?” the man asks. “You see how many starfish there are? You’ll never make a difference.”
The boy paused thoughtfully, and picked up another starfish and threw it into the ocean.
“It sure made a difference to that one,” he said.
A summer night is the burning cigarette hanging from the side of your lips, a subtle kiss as the first star appears in the sky. Want to know why I still wish on it? You’re my hit and run, gone like the setting sun for for an instant you light up the night with shades of red I’ve never seen, but when that light turns green and I’m supposed to go, you’re already gone, the final notes of that song on the radio that I don’t really know but sing along to anyway, hoping one day I’ll learn the words. You must have heard it playing that night when you sped through that red light and left me to deal with all the broken glass, and I want to ask why you were in such a hurry like the worry I felt was enough to make you stay. I return to that intersection hoping someday the power will go out so I can follow your trail of sparks, but I doubt you still shine like you used to. You always went the opposite way the wind blew and I’ll just end up swimmin’ in your ashes because I’m drawn to wear the crash is like I can save that little girl who once wished on a star. I want you to know, wherever you are, that I’ll never stop wishing.
(Source: ensnared-senses, via tongue-fuck)
holy fuck.
(via ileftmyglassslipper)
(Source: hollyarabella, via ileftmyglassslipper)