“Yo Manejo Mi Cerebro, No Mi Corazón.”

“No, no hay nada que yo no haría, para hacerte sentir mi amor”

Ya nada tengo yo que sea mío: Mi voz y mi silencio son ya tuyos.

Recinto (Fragmento), Carlos Pellicer (via untransitardeideas)

“25 de enero 2017 No me puedo ir a dormir sin decirte que alegras mi vida a cada momento… Luz de mis días. Qué jamás me falte tu risa perfecta, la paz de tu mirada, tus cálidas manos, la forma de tu boca, tu andar distraído, tus piernas delgadas, tu cabello rebelde, la música de tu voz… Debes saber que eres lo más bello que existe y que es hermoso poder mirarte, tocarte, refugiarme en tus brazos cuando hay miedo… Te quiero, te quieren mis huesos, mi carne, mi alma, mi mente, mi corazón… No te vayas ésta noche, no te vayas nunca… Quiero verte cada día al despertar”

— Letras Secretas (via letrassecretas)

Nel prro !!!!!

“¿Aún te quedarás después de ver mi infierno?”

-JMPQ

“Trata de no pensar mucho las cosas, todo va a estar bien.”

— SuspirosAlAire

El café debe ser negro como el infierno, fuerte como la muerte y dulce como el amor.

Villegas P.

LAZY SUNDAYS WOTH HARRY PLS

He used to be the type to wake up early during the weekends so he could get everything done by the late afternoon and have an evening with a couple of his mates, but things changed when he met you.

He became the type to wake up later than usual (still managing to be wide awake before you roused from your much needed sleep) and hold you close to his lanky frame. An arm wrapped around your upper body as he lay beside you, his hot breath hitting your cheek and though he once swore he admired being the little spoon, he loved being the big spoon with you.

There was just something about having the ability to keep you within arms reach, body entangled in yours. To keep you near and think about how lucky he was. How lucky he was that you hadn’t done a runner once he asked you to be his (or at first glance) because as sappy as he sounds, he hasn’t felt love like this before and he can’t believe he’s managed to snag you - at least that’s what his mother says.

“G'morning,” Harry pronounces with a rough sleep drawl, although he’s been awake for twenty minutes now. He scratches his shirt clad chest with his index finger and uses his head to gesture to the plate on the table. “Made you breakfast.”

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