February 2012
41 posts
“Maybe…you’ll fall in love with me all over again.”
“Hell,” I said, “I love you...”
– Ernest Hemingway ― A Farewell to Arms (via girlmeetsbanjo)
1 tag
I like to lay in bed and muse. Thoughts leave my mind, floating around in wisps of smoke, ghost-like and fragile. Too weakened by self-doubt to fight their way from transparency into solidity. And so they stay, the spectres of night-time blues lurking in the corners, waiting for a flickering moment of self-assured justification to become what they may; the philosophy of a life that is to be lived,...
1 tag
You smell like sugar and soap.
Such sweet and clean,
belies your passionate fervour.
Each time we meet is
an ephemeral dance around
a veiled room.
Which inside holds the secrets
of what may set our souls ablaze.
“You can’t escape the world, and you’re not responsible for how you look. If you...”
– Chuck Palahniuk, Invisible Monsters (via literaturesluts)
“Yes, I was infatuated with you: I am still. No one has ever heightened such a...”
– Sylvia Plath (via youforgotmefirst)
That’s the thing about writing, you find yourself re-living everything twice. Once in reality and again on the page. So reader, don’t be surprised if you find yourself in the midst of these words, as I ponder the world I wish to set on fire.
If I let you under my skin, will you stay there?
were most of your stars out? were you busy writing your heart out?
-j.d. salinger
1 tag
Sometimes we have to find the key to our own heart.
1 tag
I am
bruised shins and pale skin;
from days spent wandering
in the dark tripping
over my own words.
“I think there is something beautiful in reveling in sadness. The proof is how...”
– Joseph Gordon-Levitt (via eyelinerlyrics)
January 2012
72 posts
“Stories you read when you’re the right age never quite leave you. You may forget...”
– Neil Gaiman (via misswallflower)
They were patient like monks
in ajoined rooms. Still feeling
the breath of one another
cutting through the plasterboard.
Like age old lovers dancing
in the rhythm of the
tension in between themselves
(and outside themselves)
Who knows what lust and
fear may bring to those
whose everyday dreams
are based upon an infinitely
ending beginning.
“it’s so damn sweet when Anybody—
…makes you feel
…for once
(imag
-ine) You”
– e e cummings (via yellow—bird)
