findinglucca:

If the boy who draws
let’s you look over his shoulder.

If the poet
smiles
and shows you her words.

If the girl who sings for the shower only,
hums a song
in front of you.

Know that you’re no longer a person
but the air
and dust
that fills their lungs.

When the world perishes,
and all things cease to exist,
you’ll remain inside an ink stain,
a paint brush,
a song.

— Alaska Gold

(Source: hereunoia, via ar-bie)

dont have time or motivation for tumblr anymore it’s laame