pictures painted by your hand
will never look the same again.
the colors run, the colors fade.
what once was bright
has now turned to grey.
there is a place in which i keep.
the parts of you and me.
as they were meant to be.
as just a memory
“Well, Jesus Christ, I’m not scared to die, I’m a little bit scared of what comes after”
Brand New (via suicidal-insanity)