They say there are five stages of grief.

The first is when I wait for you to come home even though it’s 4.37am. I wait for you for a month, and I save portions for your dinner.

The second is when I break all the cups you’ve used. I tear up all the sheets you’ve slept on. I scream at the walls for not warning me.

The third is when I call and say, can we be friends? I cooked your favourite, will you come over for a last supper?

The fourth is when you say no and I finish eating five tubs of ice cream in an hour. It’s when I lay in bed and cry over the clothes you left behind.

The fifth is when I pack up all your things and mail them to her address. I paint the walls. I scrub the floors.

We burnt alive, and I was born out of the flames.

v.g. | athelasss (via athelasss)
He’s so beautiful.
The way he walks, like he has nothing on his sholders.
The way he waves, then winks.
When he smiles, and chuckles because he thinks your sweet.
When he calls me babe.
The way he dances, like no one is watching.
The way he jokes.
When he plays with my brothers.
When he kisses my hand.
When he kisses me.
When he holds me when I’m crying.
The way he looks at me.
The way his eyes roll to know he’s joking.
The way he carries me to bed when I’m sleepy.
The way he is on a Sunday afternoon.
How he is at 12:30 am.
His secrets and stories.
His hand holding.
His love.
He’s so beautiful.
(via naturesfeelings)

The way he is for me! <3