quiobi-lover:

infinitejedilove:

I am not to speak to you

I am to think of you when 

I sit alone or wake at night alone

I am to wait

I do not doubt 

I am to meet you again 

I am to see to it that

I do not lose you

      – Walt Whitman

*cries*

onlyechoesrespond:

i imagine death so much it feels more like a memory 

nowheremoon:

Our friendship.

obiwanskenobiss:

I had a dream my life would be…

                      So different from this hell I’m living

hegodamask:

_{A long time ago…}

lonesomeghostboy:

And when my time is up

Have I done enough?

Will they tell my story?

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corvusdae:

       do you hear the people sing ?

tairemyheartapart:

Enjolras was pierced by eight bullets. Each bullet was the death of a friend.