You think the sky is beautiful.
The way the stars dance across the sky and the way the sun kisses your skin.
You love semicolons on the wrists of people as scarred as you are.
You think a baby’s first cry and autumn is beautiful.
And you love the raw emotion of drunken tears and first kisses.
You ask me what I think is beautiful and all I can think about is the way your eyes light up when you talk about something you love.
Or when the corners of your mouth turn up slightly when you argue with me for hours about how you love me more.
All I can think about is the way your laughter is air to my lungs, and the way your touch rips the breath from my mouth.
But I want nothing more than to take your face into my hands and tell you that you are not merely “beautiful” You are dazzling, exquisite, you are magnificent. You are what stars would formed if they were to be put together.
You are this magnificent light in my darkness of a life, so don’t you ever take “beautiful”.
And I could go on about how your eyes make my cheeks explode with a forest fire, or the fact that my stomach doesn’t feel butterflies, but instead when you sigh my name, I feel thousands of stars exploding in my chest at the same time, making my bones rattle and my knees shake.
So when you ask me;
“What do you think is beautiful?”
All I can answer with is,
“You.”Storm. (via thetalkingcigarette)
They say every atom in our bodies was once part of a star. Maybe I’m not leaving. Maybe I’m going home.Gattaca, 1997 (via artvevo)
There are 7 billion people on this planet who I have not met,
and 195 countries I have not visited.
Yet I am stuck in this insignificant town,
Being pressured into making decisions about my future,
When I barely even know who I am.