Me: “What browser are you on?”
Me: “Google Chrome?”
Client: “No, just regular Google.”
Me: “That’s the site. I want to know the browser.”
Client: “Look, we can have this conversation forever, man. But when I hit the internet logo, Google comes up!”
Me: “Okay…What does that “internet logo” look like?
Client: “…A fiery fox, I guess. But that’s irrelevant.”
Tumblr logo is rainbow because the letters of tumblr stand for the letter of the colors of the rainbow
Ah yes my favorite colors
Ted, urange, mellow, breen, llue, and rurple.
My friend once told me
she liked this guy because of his hands
And I found it absurd that anyone
would develop feelings over one feature,
and not care about the rest
It wasn’t until you used your hands
to cup the back of my neck the first time we kissed
and I could feel your firm grasp pull me closer,
and my insides exploded
and my head buzzed with bliss.
And the first night you slept over,
you fell asleep with your hand
laid over my stomach
and your fingers felt like a fire
that I didn’t mind burning my skin.
The first time we got drunk,
was the first time you played with my hair,
and my god I was hooked,
I’d drink forever if it meant you’d never stop.
And in public you’d hold my hand,
and rub your thumb in little circles
that left me wanting you more,
no matter what you would never let me go,
I was glued to you,
and I honestly didn’t mind
When we talked about breaking up,
you saw my lips quiver with fear,
and you brushed over my lips with your fingers
before pulling me into your lap
and you kissed me like never before.
With your hands on my hips
pulling me so close to you,
leaving no space in between us.
It was then I realized I never wanted you to go
Its now that,
I finally understand why hands
were the only feature that mattered
Hands: Carol Shlyakhova(strong-but-breakable)
the sound of teenage girls laughing near you when you’re by yourself is literally the most terrifying thing a person can experience
through a face of folded velvet
that blood is always
thicker than water.
Drop them each in the same cup,
watch one rise,
watch one sink.
how the color changes.
These are not so separate,
we are not so different.
Michelle K., My Uncle is Sick. (via michellekpoems)