(Source: weheartit.com, via velvetdreamsandcoldhearts)
nineteen/aus ☀
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"Addiction is tricky. For example: a man who quit smoking for 11 years spent 15 seconds in an elevator with a man smoking a cigarette. He gave in.
What I’m trying to say is I think I love you again."(via cumpressing)
(Source: alienveins, via writingsforwinter)
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"One day I will show you
the dirt beneath my nails
and you’ll know
not only of the things
I’ve buried and the graves
I’ve dug, but of the weeds
picked and the flowers
grown."Kelsey Danielle (via pigmenting)
(via glass-bottleboat)
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(Source: theboysarehere)
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"You have your wonderful memories,” people said later, as if memories were solace. Memories are not. Memories are by definition of times past, things gone. Memories are the Westlake uniforms in the closet, the faded and cracked photographs, the invitations to the weddings of the people who are no longer married, the mass cards from the funerals of the people whose faces you no longer remember. Memories are what you no longer want to remember."
Blue Lights, Joan Didion (via commovente)
(via righteouswaxchaperone)
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"How nice — to feel nothing, and still get full credit for being alive."
Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five (via larmoyante)
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(Source: morphinepills, via loveyourchaos)
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"When I realized I was not my body, I became free."
(via kelsi-recovers)
(Source: twitter.com, via songbirdsweresinging)
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"
This is how I recreate you.
On a bridge near your favorite tree, you become
bones made from sea glass wine bottles and mosaic tiles,
muscle made from dune grass,
skin made from wet leaves after a long winter,
eyelids, the wings of moths.You become
fingers made from trails of ants that chase me,
toes made from skipping stone peddles,
eyes made from sunflowers,
a mouth and throat, made from a garden hose.On a bride near your favorite tree, you become
lungs made from paper lanterns,
insides made of paper cranes
veins made from copper wire,
and if I could, I would’ve made your blood from honeyI saved your heart for last,
"
it becoming a jar of salt water
because every time you told me to find the ocean,
I found it inside of you.Kelsey Danielle, “The Wind Became Your Voice” (via pigmenting)
(via latenightfreewrites)
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"Rain is the merging of cool air with warm
under general conditions of humidity. Try to remember
it has nothing to do with love
or grief. This is the consolation of philosophy:
it’s out of our hands. The business of bars
and stores, our separate beds, the garbaged
offices of alleyways, is aging. It sighs
in the blood like salt, slows us, and is why
our hearts are heaviest on the moment
of waking: the weight we ferry, the fright,
the long vowel opening at the centre
of a consonant world that draws the hurt up,
an empty bowl, while history’s rebar is replaced
and a species coughs its lungs out
in another room. Private lives of insects
and the single notes that move them, hard-won
courage of raccoon and crow who eat our garbage
and hate us, are foreclosed. We are lonely. We
are here. Inside a vestigial swimmer bears
memory like the phantom pain of when the earth
was new and we were a promise in the sex
of its making, its heat and pools. Cells’ random
liquid birth. In the molecular ache of land
as it cooled, when, before tears, before
property, it rained for more than a million years."Karen Solie, “Under the Sun” (via larmoyante)
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"Of course, you never really forget anyone, but you certainly release them. You stop allowing their history to have any meaning for you today. You let them change their haircut, let them move, let them fall in love again. And when you see this person you have let go, you realize that there is no reason to be sad. The person you knew exists somewhere, but you are separated by too much time to reach them again."
chelsea fagan | how we let people go (via a-lionsheart)
(Source: larmoyante, via 2000seasons)
Theme: Linear by Peter Vidani
