Stolenecho - 𝚎 𝚌 𝚑 𝚘

"Cold blood fills the ravines of your pale, cracked lips. You've known nothing but violence all your life. Crying out to a god you don't believe in, you ask for the blood to run warm."

— you wait, unheard; echo

“When I was five, I burned my hand on the stove my mother never warned me not to touch. Wrapping my hand in bandages, she told me “You’re a leo, your soul seeks the warmth.” All I understand then, was pain. My mother was born in the late fifties, an immigrant to this country, and she believed in the power of the stars alignment. It wasn’t the first time, nor would be the last my zodiac became the cause and not the effect of her neglect. I broke my ankle, when I was seven, jumping from my dresser. Convinced with my sheets wrapped around my neck, that I could fly. My mother whispered into my hair as I cried, “You forgot the feathers, child.” With a cast on my leg, and a faded scar upon my palm, I listened to her soft voice, with the accent she tried so desperately to hide, tell my favorite story. Of a boy ruled by the sun, burned by the things he could never touch. Icarus must have been born a leo, too.”

— and his mother, the sun | p.d (via p.d vulpe)

she is the spit i cannot swallow the air i cannot breathe her touch so far from me leaving me violent for a rage i couldn’t possibly yet know eternity is not enough for desire

Let me hold your gentle, beating heart. Steal the warmth from my hands until my fingers run cold. Take gulps of me, all I’ll ask for is sips of you.”

— taste; echo

Ever since I was a little girl I’ve loved information

— “suddenly it’s december”, margaux paul

Bothersome beast, comforting friend

Art by Matteo Moni

i look at her and to put it simply, i see my muse for the first time looking right back at me.

As I pointed out my favorite constellation, I realized the beauty I see in it has always been reflected in her eyes.

— her eyes, the andromeda; echo