my own wish for myself
(Source: hot-as-fuck-xo, via tumbldee)
The songs she sang were old Hungarian lullabies.
—Aharon Appelfeld, Tzili, translated by Dalya Bilu (thanks, ktisnotdoinghw)
(Source: the-final-sentence)
(via nataliemeansnice)
(Source: chelseainterrupted, via nataliemeansnice)
A nurse came out then to fetch me, and I turned and followed her inside, and it was as if I were walking into the sea.
—John Banville, from The Sea (with thanks to big-black-car)
(Source: bearfootghosts, via the-final-sentence)
you are a horse running alone
and he tries to tame you
compares you to an impossible highway
to a burning house
says you are blinding him
that he could never leave you
forget you
want anything but you
you dizzy him, you are unbearable
every woman before or after you
is doused in your name
you fill his mouth
his teeth ache with memory of taste
his body just a long shadow seeking yours
but you are always too intense
frightening in the way you want him
unashamed and sacrificial
he tells you that no man can live up to the one who
lives in your head
and you tried to change didn’t you?
closed your mouth more
tried to be softer
prettier
less volatile, less awake
but even when sleeping you could feel
him travelling away from you in his dreams
so what did you want to do love
split his head open?
you can’t make homes out of human beings
someone should have already told you that
and if he wants to leave
then let him leave
you are terrifying
and strange and beautiful
something not everyone knows how to love.
—“For Women Who Are Difficult to Love,” Warsan Shire (via deathmutt)
(Source: commovente, via oursongtitles)
I don’t know what they are called, the spaces between seconds– but I think of you always in those intervals.
—Salvador Plascencia (via musingsinfemininity)
(Source: gildings, via thedreamerdisorder)
artofavillian asked: you're killing me tonight. with all those words you've posted. that i've always read but never felt a single bit of connection with before tonight. But suddenly the synaptic nerves are firing at full throttle like a machine gun aimed squarely at my heart. As the hip kids say these days. Right in the feels. Because tonight i feel everything, and this bottle of wine isn't helping. this loneliness has done me in, a murder suicide pact. Because if it kills me, than the loneliness wont exist.
i try.
(Source: shutup-jackie, via regularrumination)
[I have been easy with trees
Too long.
Too familiar with mountains.
Joy has been a habit.]
Now
Suddenly
This rain.
—Jack Gilbert, from “Rain” (via the-final-sentence)
(via the-final-sentence)
