(Source: themiddleofnowheres, via muscles-are-all-i-want)
i want to fall asleep to
the irrational pattern of
your breathing; counting
every exhale because it’s
the only math i’ll ever need.
i’ll type my best work on
the skin that stretches over
your back, leaving a novel
for your bones to read when
they’re lonely and too far
away from me to hold in safety.
(via being-strong-for-me)