black is not sad. bright colors are what depresses me. they're so... empty. black is poetic. how do you imagine a poet? in a bright yellow jacket? probably not.
B ∆ Ξ

Angel, I’m sorry.

I’m sorry for the 3 AM breakup call and the liquor that stained my breath the last time we kissed. I didn’t mean to spit blood into your mouth but to be fair you were the one who made me bleed. I’m still bleeding and I don’t know how to make it stop and I’m sorry that I use everyone as a Band-Aid and throw them in the trash once I bleed through them. I’m sorry I couldn’t stay on the phone for longer than a minute when I told you it was over but I have to rip my Band-Aids off fast or else it hurts even worst. You still tingle in my veins and my skin still stings from tearing you off of me and honestly I think pushing you away hurt me more than it ever hurt you but still, I’m so god damned sorry. I feel it trembling in my bones. You never signed up for tear stained tile floors and bedroom doors that stayed locked for three days straight and I know you would’ve left anyways but I wish I hadn’t shoved you out the door. I know it was freezing outside. Honestly, I’m glad she gave you a ride home. I am, and I hope her blonde hair smells like honey instead of smoke and when she kisses you she doesn’t cry into your mouth and she brings you endless sunny days because you always forget to put your hood on when it’s raining. You were never ready for my storm.


I’m so glad you didn’t let me tear you apart.

reblog if u ugly af and u admit it and accept it #2K14