I found a liquid cure for my landlocked blues.
It will pass away like a slow parade.
It’s leaving but I don’t know how soon.
(Source: anhedonistic, via the-greatestgeneration)
I miss the way we talked before you went away to school.
Now all you seem to say is “Baby, how could it be you?”
I hate the way you’re leaning and you’re looking at your phone.
I hate the way I feel like dying when I’m alone.
(Source: thistrulyisgodscountry, via tannerjoycemanor)