autumnlungs: You were the balloon that drifted from the flock into my window. But you slipped right through my fingers that grew too tiresome to hold you. I watched you float away, watched as it turned into desperate longing. This time not for some drastic change, but for the string that was made to be held by me.
You’re going to discover that conversations are best at 4am. The heavier the...– Jeff Stuckel (via transformfeminism)