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Tequila Mockingbird

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should’ve worshipped her sooner…

if the heavens ever did speak,

she’s the last true mouthpiece.

Every Sundays gettin’ more bleak,

a fresh poison each week.

We were born sick, you heard ‘em say it.

My church offers no absolutes,

she tells me “worship in the bedroom,”

nymphoninjas:

See more at nymphoninjas.findrow.com

(via lostsearchingforanswers)

- The scariest part of this is leaving

- I wish you knew how much I feel, and what it feels like to be in my position - but you dont and you never will. I just want you to understand; it hurts me too.

- I’m sorry. I will always be there for you when you need me.