A Word to Husbands

observando:

To keep your marriage brimming
With love in the loving cup,
Whenever you’re wrong, admit it;
Whenever you’re right, shut up.

— Ogden Nash

The first time he calls you holy,
you laugh it back so hard your sides hurt.
The second time,
you moan gospel around his fingers
between your teeth.
He has always surprised
you into surprising yourself.
Because he’s an angel hiding his halo
behind his back and
nothing has ever felt so filthy
as plucking the wings from his shoulders—
undressing his softness
one feather at a time.
God, if you’re out there,
if you’re listening,
he fucks like a seraphim,
and there’s no part of scripture
that ever prepared you for his hands.
Hands that map a communion
in the cradle of your hips.
Hands that kiss hymns up your sides.
He confesses how long he’s looked
for a place to worship and,
oh,
you put him on his knees.
When he sinks to the floor and moans
like he can’t help himself,
you wonder if the other angels
fell so sweet.
He says his prayers between your thighs
and you dig your heels into the base of his spine
until he blushes the color of your filthy tongue.
You will ruin him and he will thank you;
he will say please.
No damnation ever looked as cozy as this,
but you fit over his hips like they
were made for you.
You fit, you fit, you fit.
On top of him, you are an ancient god
that only he remembers and he
offers up his skin.
And you take it.
Who knew sacrifice was so profane?
And once you’ve taught him how to hold
your throat in one hand
and your heart in the other,
you will have forgotten every other word,
except his name.

idle-handss:

People who notice everything but remain silent are to be feared.

(via luanlegacy)

I kept always two books in my pocket, one to read, one to write in.
phanyyen:

I live for little moments like that…. 🌳🌳🌳 #daisy #throwback #summertime
fashionlocker:

f a s h i o n l o c k e r
peachbite:

officialgeorgebush:

lewdfruitington:

omgpoetry:

this is funny
like really, really funny

You sly bugger. That took me a while.

I have googled my life away. I have read bible verses. I have studied the ohilosophical meaning behind the numbers. I have become a modern Gallup trying to ask people to help me figure this out. What the FUCK does it mean.

What an age we live in

goodfuckingcoffee:

packs 2 hours before leaving for a trip

unpacks 3 months after coming home

(via caroopants)

fashionlocker:

f a s h i o n l o c k e r