Polaroids of Mick Jagger taken by Andy Warhol, 1975.
(Source: missavagardner, via meanwhileinthe60s)
(Source: yohohoandabottleofrum, via take-me-to-nowhere-land)
Tell me, please, my dear,
who inhabits the landscape of your soul?
Who resides behind those troubled eyes,
what courses through your bloodstream
that makes you feel alive?
Tell me, please, my dear:
whisper the mysteries of your being,
let your breath carry them over my fragile bones.
Allow them to coat my skin
and swallow my sinews
as they float from your cracked lips,
heavy with the worries
that have brought you down for years.
Tell me, please, my dear!
They say pain makes quite the canvas
for those who wear their heart on their sleeve
and carry the world on their shoulders.
What has this world done to you?
And more importantly,
how did you fight back?
Tell me, please, my dear,
of every trial you’ve weathered,
of every heart you’ve broken,
of every moment you felt
that you could conquer anything.
Tell me, my dear.
Tell me your stories,
and I’ll tell you mine.
(via murlimewes)
