verdire:

The view

(Source: expensivelife)

unfading-:

ū

(Source: graceful-goldilocks)

It’s 3am. And I can’t sleep. So instead I write, something I rarely do.

I’m lying in the dewy ground of fog kissed hills. Where serenity is real. Peace is real. Hope…is real.
The moisture in the air kisses my skin, wetting my eyelashes, darkening them, bringing out the green in my eyes and the light freckles speckled across my rosy cheekbones and small nose.
My fingers gently intwine with the blades of green grass. They are soft, yet offer edges thin enough to slice a tiny cut in the skin. Lifting a flower from its roots, I place it on my lips where the aroma faintly wisps to my nose in the breeze. It brings with it the nostalgia of plucking petals from vibrant flowers reciting the ‘he loves me he loves me not’ spiel as a child.
Sitting up, I twist a curl of my dark hair, tucking it loosely behind my ear, only to have it fall in my line of vision. It cuts right through the famous red bridge and blocks a portion of the city my eyes were focused on. The hustle and bustle never ends there. The people don’t care for or even notice the hundreds who brush past them each day, nudging shoulders, sharing air. But I had noticed him…

(Source: w-orry)

(Source: timefliestoday)

(Source: ice-vs-ocean)