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Glorious BoHo bedroom idea- love this so much. 

bohemianlifestyles.com

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Mimi 🌻 tree of life Byron

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Such a perfect reading room.

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**Grunge Fashion Aesthetic**

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“when your first love happens to be an epic failure, you spend the rest of your life looking for something that, in fact, never existed. looking for something that was not quite to be called ‘love’. you’re lost in time and space, forever longing to find the same feeling you once felt back then, looking for love but never encountering it because we never actually met.”

— love that was lost at first sight.

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the poems nobody likes

are my favorites,

they’re a burger at a seafood joint, 

they’re the indie  flick you can’t  get behind – 

too little action  and too many no-name actors, 

they’re the jazz music in a bookstore – 

just too  unremarkable… 

and these are my  favorites because

they don’t blow you away

like a seagull behind a jet engine, 

like a pencil in a  tornado, 

no, 

they hit you with something closer  to what a ceiling fan’s got, 

they hit you with  a seabreeze, 

and it’s not enough to knock you on your ass, 

but it’s enough, 

just like the days  of the year, 

just like the commute on the train, 

just like what you’ve got right now. 

it’s enough. 

and more than  anything, you’ve got to appreciate 

the stuff that doesn’t knock you down, 

because that’s life, 

it’s what you’re working with – 

the cool gust and  background static, 

the ratatatat of rain on the roof, 

it’s your kid’s smile,  your dad’s laugh, 

it’s the breakfast  she made you, 

phonecalls with your brothers –  

the regular shit, 

the take-for-granted extras you never  thought were there – 

the feet that carry  you through the  sand, 

hands that hold  and arms that wrap

and that run where  you left your own  ass in the dust… 

that’s the best  shit in the world. 

that’s the best shit you’ll ever have. 

don’t think too far or you’ll miss it. 

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and her tears are invisible it seems forever fuelling her silent screams

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Numb

Slowly I have noticed that

My days are spilling into one.

Colours began fading out

And now my sense of taste is gone.

Painted circles on my eyes,

From endless hours of restless sleep,

I wear them like a war paint

With my battle cries of sullen weeps.

Now it doesn’t hurt as much

As it has done for many years.

Creeping numbness took ahold

Now even death knows not my fears.

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“sometimes I wish I was a flower because everyone wants to be surrounded by beauty and flowers are always loved first before they are left to wilt”

— I am never given that chance by Abby S