Pink sand beach, situated on the South Coast of Antigua’s sister island, Barbuda. The near eight miles of stretches from Palmetto Point to Spanish Point. The sand gets its pink coloration due to crushed coral and foraminifera shells, washing ashore, and mixing with the existing white sands
(via dragtime)
(Source: wesuckandlovedick, via ghost-behindyou)
(Source: atomiclanterns, via flopstarstyles)
Loneliness is the human condition.
I know this because our bodies are never prepared
for touch.
I reach over to you and static sparks between us
like a match, a quick pang that leaves a resonance
in the finger tips.
We still jump when people tap us on the shoulder.
Still shudder when lover’s comb their fingers through our hair
and recoil from violent hands that threaten to impact us.
We can never plan how certain touches
will feel.
How fresh shells of snake skin feel under foot.
How beautiful it must be to understand Braille
as a native language, small bumps translating to a
mountain under finger tips.
I never planned for this, to decipher myself into isolation.
It is difficult to conjure the nerve to touch your face
when there were so many nights
with only my heart beat for company.
(Source: rainbowhiccup, via findingmeenah)
i love you like a lover does
only when i think that
you are falling out of love with me—
i am egotistical and greedy
but you keep the ugly monster fed
and i pretend
that is all i will ever need from you
when we both know
i need so much more.
(Source: Flickr / julskoro, via thefaglife)
(Source: notattoosdienaked, via agnosia)
