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Call it intellectual masturbation.

Because the mind deserves pleasure.

I have a folder of everything you’ve written for me, and the photos, and the songs tagged with my name, and I collect pieces there, so I can reread, and relive, and taste every word over again, because once is never enough, not with you, not of you; once is a shallow breath of sweet winter air, and I’m craving the whole season.

(via pseudoperfection)

Source: my-dear-haphephobic-heart

  • 3 months ago > my-dear-haphephobic-heart
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