©
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connotativewords: May 19, 2013 “Can I take you to a morning where the fields are painted gold, and the trees are filled with memories of the feelings never told?”
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I will remember the kisses, our lips raw with love,
and how you gave me everything you had
and how I offered you what was left of me.
-Charles Bukowski, “Raw With Love” (via larmoyante)
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whiskey-memories:

bras are so expensive like i didn’t choose the boob life the boob life chose me
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