Fly across the eagles the sky tell me if you find a way to stay above the clouds at night and when morning comes and you set sail could you spare me just a tale of where you went and why you left it all behind
does it feel the way you always knew when you touched the colours of horizons far and wide does your mothers voice still beckon you to the salted rivers where she held you when you cried and promised you would fly away
“I want you. I want your sleepy confused look when you wake up. I want to be the warmth that fills the space in your bed. I want to be the sheets your fingers crave at night; the blanket that wraps around you all night. I want to drink tea with you, share some records we find. I want to talk about everything in the world newspapers. I want to discuss with you, to be stubborn and quick-witted with you. I want to have differences between us. I want your flaws. All of them. I want go into the deepest corners of your mind and never get bored of you. I want to be surprised by the new all the time. I want to look at you like a movie, a living piece of art; always trying to chase what you crave … and capture you.”—Elay Neal Moses (via cybergirlfriend)
This is gonna be a long post. I’m warning you ahead of time so you can have the option of scrolling along or delve into my life. I think the scrolling option is better if you ask me. This is just gonna be me talking. Well, typing. And it’ll be far from interesting. But read on if you’d like. I don’t mind.