Baisemain

Forever no longer seems such an impossible feat.
introv-erted:

Spotted at Centennial Parklands on a lonely bench.
“My whole life long I learned to love. This hour my utmost art I prove.”
64

When the fireworks explode on New Year’s Eve, all yellow and blue and purple, but your hand is without another to hold and your lips are sticky with sea salt and you can feel your knees beginning to buckle beneath the weight of your solitude:
I will be there.

When he tells you that he has fallen out of love and you can feel your heart sitting in the back of your throat, barricading the words you should have said years ago, suffocating your windpipes until they snap:
I will be there.

When the days are grey, and the rain shatters your windowpanes, and the wind hisses between the strands of your hair, and the clouds disguise the sun as but another dull and broken soul:
I will be there.

I am only young, and to say I am wise would be to say I have lived enough of this life to know how it works. But I have not lived, and there are many things I do not yet know. My advice is weightless, a feather drifting across an endless nighttime sky.

I am only young, but to say I am unwise would be to say I have not learned from this life. My dear, I promise you this:
I will be here.


L.G. To The Girls Who Have Always Been Here (via introv-erted)

(via of-heroes-and-crayons)

What would a narrative of happiness be like? All that can be described is what prepares it, and then what destroys it.
André Gide (via observando)

(via freethepoets)


I am very sad and I feel more miserable than I can say, and I do not know how far I’ve come. I do not know what to do or what to think, but vehemently desire to leave this place. I feel so melancholy.
Vincent van Gogh, Letters (1875-1890)

(Source: oiseauperdu, via requiemforthepast)


I hunger for your taste, your smell, the feel of your soul touching mine.
Jack Llawaylly (via fables-of-the-reconstruction)

(via thehistoryof-forgetting)

When you do something, you should burn yourself up completely, like a good bonfire, leaving no trace of yourself.
Suzuki Roshi (via c-ovet)

(via requiemforthepast)


It isn’t possible to love and part. You will wish that it was. You can transmute love, ignore it, muddle it, but you can never pull it out of you. I know by experience that the poets are right: love is eternal.
E.M. Forster, A Room with a View (via wordsnquotes)

(via frheckle)


You are made
out of comets
and stars.

Do not surround
yourself with those
that treat you like
dirt and dust.
Noor Shirazie  (via thatkindofwoman)

(via keeli)

The hours between 12am and 6am
have a funny habit of making you feel
like you’re either on top of the world,
or under it.
Beau Taplin || the hours between.   (via exoticwild)

(Source: afadthatlastsforever, via afadthatlastsforever)