“From each of you,” he began, lacing his hands together behind his back as he walked down the line of the women. “I demand,” he stopped abruptly before the poor woman at the start of the line. Late twenties maybe, still young. So much left of her life to live. 

 He grasped her chin harshly, yanking her face forward, closer to his. Their lips only centimeters apart, he finished in almost a whisper, only for the closer women to hear. “A kiss.” 

sweatyguy:

kyungsan-anon:

in the mood to post one

Reblogging on my personal because I can :*

Reblogging on my writing blog because I can \o/

horrorfamily:

A setting sun,
a kindling fire.
The passion of a first love so dear,
is nothing.
Today I warble,
tomorrow I die.
In those last moments,
I’ll remember.
Unmitigated adoration
for a beauty
as warm as your smile. 

phantasmaholic:

There’s that slight realization when I come round and notice that emotions are so bland. Of course, without them the entire human race would be lifeless creatures, but even with them I can hardly feel anything. It cannot be distinguished as loneliness or grief, and not every smile holds happiness either. Emotions are a funny thing, we can never feel them when they are present instead we long for the selfishness to possess them. Everyone wants to have happiness, but how do you know you already are?

horrorfamily:

O Sweet floral blossoms
Tender peach skin
Bitter clover leaves
The passion,
the warmth
Of my mother Sun.
Is this love,
or is this Spring?