caulfielings:

oranges as intimacy, intimacy as romance, and romance as sensuality.

mount eerie from “tinin in tibet.” // emma elizabeth tillman’s “untitled.” // marge piercy, “the nuisance.” // jeanne illenye’s “orange burst” (detail). // frank ocean from “golden girl.” // stefanie_sarley on instagram (marginally edited). // university of michigan’s symbolism project. // eva woolridge’s “blinding pain.” // anne sexton, “a self-portrait In letters.”

(via tenderoranges)

goodbyeeveryonee-deactivated202:

A man’s gaze could never demean me or make me conscious of myself. Their empty gazes lack any meaning. They can’t even decipher the meaning of their staring because it goes beyond them. I stare back, and guess what? I have the joy of meaning, color, and intuition behind my eyes. Take a man’s patriarchal accolades away and most of the time, you find nothing worth fearing, nothing worth competing with. So tell me, what sort of empty powerless eyes from a man with nothing could instill enough fear in me, the woman with everything?

(via venassinfurs)

thecenterwillnothold:

women know hunger too well & not even in the sense of food/appetite (though that is painfully prevalent in so many of us) but hunger for identity, to be heard, desperate to be seen & then to not be seen at all, to simply be. a hunger that feels all consuming & then we end up devouring ourselves from the outside in just in order to deny our appetite for life & love. to hide our wants & desires. it aches all of the time & it’s so tiring i just want to feel full i want to feel satisfied with myself my body my existence  

(via honeysent)

kiwi:

i absolutely live for tight hugs i hate that feather-touch barely brushing side hug i want you to break my fucking spine or else u dont love me

(via notsosadshordiie)


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