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If the boy who draws
let’s you look over his shoulder.

If the poet
smiles
and shows you her words.

If the girl who sings for the shower only,
hums a song
in front of you.

Know that you’re no longer a person

but the air
and dust

that fills their lungs.

When the world perishes,
and all things cease to exist,
you’ll remain inside an ink stain,

a paint brush,
a song.

Alaska Gold (via aurelle)

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❤


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I’ve been lovin you for quite some time time time ❤❤❤

I’ve been lovin you for quite some time time time ❤❤❤



enternally-wasted:

"we can’t choose where we come from but we can choose where we go from there."