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I want you to miss me. I want you to recognize me in your morning cereal and the voice of your favorite singer. I want you to wonder where I am when your fingers are stretched beneath your waistband, when you’re lighting up, when you’re tripping up the uneven step on your basement stairs. I want you to think of me when you look into your teacup and your rearview mirror. I want you.

Camryn Pulaski Day (via ciggeret)

(Source: thelandlockedmariner, via funnked)

I.
When I was trying to quit smoking
and we drank white wine from Mason jars,
you called my freckles cocoa powder
and I called your green eyes
celery.

II.
I am learning how to be a grown-up
who pays bills, cooks her own meals,
and doesn’t cry at words like
I think I just want to be friends.

III.
The truth is this:
Love is an organic thing.
It rots and softens.

All That’s Left To Tell, Clementine von Radics  (via sunsetical)

(Source: clementinevonradics, via mkui)