the sunlit skies call out my name once more.

lost everytime the sun turns orange.

I have packed my bags once more, but if you whisper my name to the wind, I will tell you where I have drifted off. You can tell me secret, a confession, anything. I'm still all ears.

I have kept pent-up feelings and let it out here, in forms of words and photos and everything else.
Oct 14
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Damien Rice—9 Crimes

(via noliesjustlove)