I left you a voicemail. All sex kitten desire and mass amounts of sass saying, “I want you.” I smile to myself because I know that your body will respond to the sensual words coming out of my mouth. Your heart beat will quicken as the anxieties to meet become apparent and you may rise as if your queen has entered the room. You’re my king, baby.
Come home.

I’ve been waiting for the moment I see your headlights through the living room drapes and set myself up accordingly. All the positions I want you to do to me. So I relax on our balcony with the juxtaposition of the moonlight against my bare body making the effect just right. I stand on the tips of my toes imagining me bent over the railing.
Almost home.

When the door opens you look around with wide eyes and wet mouth. You’re hungry, aren’t you? Let me feed your carnal needs. When you see me wild hair and tamed heart, you pounce. But no, love, I’m a woman that wants what she needs and gets what she wants. So just stand here with your broad shoulders and curious eyes. You are mine.
Welcome home.

I want you how I like you, all wide chest and huge hands. On your back you watch me with wicked thoughts and I want to make those dreams reality. Tracing my tongue around each rib because you are a part of me. I leave bite marks to remind you love hurts and scratch marks will decorate your back like a Picasso painting to remind you that we are the creators of this love. My signature is left wherever my kisses land.
You’re home.

Each time our bodies join, we are declaring our “I love you’s.” You look into my eyes and feel more than my body in which you’ve ridden all routes. You feel the moon’s energy heating my skin. When you pull my hair. you leave moondust kisses across my neck and when you grab my throat, I see constellations in the sky. When we make love, we hold no secrets. So believe me when I say I would unfold galaxies to stay the stars that your soul is made up of. There’s no where else I could imagine being.
My home.

homebound- jlw (via burgundythoughts)

(via burgundythoughts)

Candid shot of my Nephew and Amare. Handsomeness is OBVIOUSLY inescapable in our offspring ☺️

Candid shot of my Nephew and Amare. Handsomeness is OBVIOUSLY inescapable in our offspring ☺️

(via homo-talk)

Beauty

Beauty

(Source: fuckyesimsodd, via homo-talk)

I learned how to love from the moon. He flirts with the stars every night, enticing them to glow brighter because they complement one another so well. He coerced the tide to love him and she sways to his every word. This allowed the mermaids to sing songs of lost at sea love and broken seashell hearts. Even dogs praised him with howls that shook their soul and rattled their bones begging for love.

That feeling of being close enough I could hurt you but only wanting to bring you passion and joy. That responsibility of being yours and you being mine. I’ve talked to the moon about this and I’m sure he’ll put in a good word for me to the universe. I want a love that’ll be absolute cosmic order. The feeling of leftover moon particles on my skin after you’ve touched me. And the first kiss jolting me across the dark sky.

I’ve wasted much time on regular people that don’t understand my space ship love ambitions. But once I realized that there were galaxies whirling in my eyes and stars glowing beneath my rib cage and each birth mark was a constellation in the sky and my bones were made of the same dust that floats around in space, I realized that my love will never be regular.

Because only an astronaut can love a woman with the universe’s energy running through her veins. A man that knows the limit isn’t the sky because of the footprints on the moon. That isn’t afraid to explore my galaxies and unearth my soul that’s buried deep on an unknown planet. He doesn’t believe in gravity unless its because he is falling for me. And he will play in my milky way like its a new adventure daily. He will understand why I look off into space for long periods of time just smiling because I am so happy to have him. And he will love me. Yes, he will love me. He will love me like the moon.

saturn or bust- jlw (via burgundythoughts)

🙌

(via ishouldbedoinglaundryy)

(via ishouldbedoinglaundryy)

I’m not going to be the girl you marry.
I’ll be the memory you have when you propose to her. As you slide that ring on her finger you’ll think about that time we got dressed in our swankiest threads and had a horrible time at that party so we came back home and sat in an empty bath tub drinking whiskey outta the bottle talking about our childhood dreams.

I’m not going to be the girl you marry.
I’ll be that memory whenever you and her get in an argument. You’ll recall our first fight and the endless glares and icy tones. Repetition of words like RESPECT and WHY rung through the stillness of the air. We almost ended that night. Thankfully you stopped me from walking out of that door.

I’m not going to be the girl you marry.
I’ll be that memory when you have your first child. When you and your wife are picking out names you’ll remember our talk about our future. Our apartment layout and first pet. A dog named Pascal because I’m allergic to cats.

I’m not going to be the girl you marry.
I’ll be the girl you fall for when you are too young to understand what falling really is. You’ll fuck up and lose me. You won’t realize it until a while later. But when you do, you’ll think about me everyday. Forever.

you’ll miss me- jlw (via burgundythoughts)

Saw this beauty do her thang last night…so talented and an amazing spirit!!

(via burgundythoughts)

spankmethorin:

radgreymon:

rudegirlqueer:

sarcasticxfantastic:

socialismartnature:

Rape, By The Numbers.

everyone needs to see this graphic

Boost.

crazy

I linked this to my guy friends who always use the excuse of “What about the false reports? It’s not fair that innocent men are accused of a crime they didn’t commit”
2 out of 1000. 0.02% Of all rapes are false.

spankmethorin:

radgreymon:

rudegirlqueer:

sarcasticxfantastic:

socialismartnature:

Rape, By The Numbers.

everyone needs to see this graphic

Boost.

crazy

I linked this to my guy friends who always use the excuse of “What about the false reports? It’s not fair that innocent men are accused of a crime they didn’t commit”

2 out of 1000. 0.02% Of all rapes are false.

(Source: theenlivenproject, via ishouldbedoinglaundryy)

kushandwizdom:

Fameless