You ever get the feeling that God just low key saved you from some stupid shit u were about to do

(Source: angfdz, via goddesscole)


Your bae start a sentence with “I find it funny” she really don’t find shit funny. She really wanna find you in a casket”

(via teddyyo)


date yourself a man who knows what he wants and goes after what he wants

that knows he wants you and demonstrates that you’re exactly what he wants

stop dealing with wishy washy, indecisive, maybe/perhaps/kinda/sorta men

(via ghdos)


Let me be your:

7am morning fuck before you go to work

Midday text, letting you know that you’re on my mind

5pm cuddle after a long days work

11pm rough fuck as i pound away the frustrations of your day

2am soft whisper in your ear, as i tell you “i love you”

(via ghdos)


We really do have to do better.

The fucking accuracy is on point.

We are in the car.
I am screaming at my mother
crying in frustration over her horrible taste in men,
asking her why she always chooses the ones who stare at my breasts through my nightdress
or the ones who steal her money
or cheat or disappear
and this time she doesn’t slap me in the mouth.
She stares ahead, unblinking. Tells me about her mother’s father,
a good-looking man with glinting eyes and a round face
who followed her into a room when she was eleven and forced her onto her back.

We are in the car.
I am somewhere between 8 and 20 
and she is somewhere between 19 and 35 
but I am not completely sure of the ages. They are melting into each other, swirling out of reach
because this is a dream, you see, and I am telling her about the gangly, tall, awful man that she is with
the one who everyone calls handsome.
The one who hides food and
tries to walks in on me in the bathtub.

The only conversation that we ever had about all of this
(the only conversation that actually really happened)
was when I was 13 and we were arguing in the living room
(over the very same man)
and she was going to hit me
and said,
“My grandfather tried to rape me. Count yourself lucky.”

I was stunned into silence. I did not want to imagine something so terrible happening
or almost happening to her
and besides, I had already made her a non ally.
She wanted to talk. She needed to talk.
How I wish I had asked even one question
but it is too late now.
I was too young and
she died young
alone in a hospice while I was living far away, mostly unavailable.

My mother is with me most nights, though.
She was is my first love.
I dream her fiercely
and in those dreams I love her
and get angry and shake her
and bite, grind my teeth
and wake up,
full of everything.


How do you ignore the clit though? It’s like… right there.
I need a nap and an orgasm.
A Theme A Theme