And I can’t help but to run my fingers down your spine like you are my favorite book. But I still cannot read you, you are your own language. Your pages are tired and torn, but I want you, I want it all.

Michelle K., Like A Book  (via drizzlelullaby)

“Nothing ever ends poetically. It ends and we turn it into poetry. All that blood was never once beautiful. It was just red.”
Kait Rokowski  (via stolenwine)

You deserve all the
things they have not
yet found a way to
weave into language.

The first time I spoke
to you, I understood
what it meant to be
enamored of another.

The sky inside of you
shines with wishing
light; I would give all
of me for you to see
yourself this way.

I would stay with the
things we have lost
if it would mean that
you could begin to
experience all this
unsayable beauty.

this sky is so beautiful, i am convinced you are entirely composed of its dreams ~ Emma Bleker (via stolenwine)

sometimes it hurts a lot, and sometimes it hurts a little. sometimes you’re sitting in the middle of a library and you got enough sleep last night and all that really matters is the work you haven’t gotten done that’s due in an hour, and this feels pretty normal. like you made it, somehow. sometimes you’re riding a train home and something clicks inside of you and you’re set off like wildfires, you become alight with memories you’re too choked up to swallow. sometimes nothing happens inside of your brain because it’s filled with thoughts that are deadly gas leaks. those are not the good nights.

it’s scary because we’re all these little harmless bubbles, i guess. like we are full of stories and rhymes and there’s no reason to us. and sometimes one of us just kind of pops, and they’re gone for good. like you start having to say “yeah, i knew him,” instead of “yeah, i know him.” it’s scary. we’re so vulnerable.

and there’s no real way to know if someone’s alright like if they’re having one of those moments where stuff just feels human and good or if they’re having one of those bad days where the sky tastes like whiskey and they just want to drown themselves in anything willing to swallow them up. like you can look someone in the eyes and say “i’m doing fine” and really mean that if you had a shotgun and a bullet, you’d go through with it. like you can literally lie to someone about wanting to die - and someone can do the same to you.

i wonder about that a lot, you know? like how many people i haven’t noticed are ready to click themselves out of the picture. like how many people i didn’t help because i totally bought it when they sold the idea they were whole and doing well. i wonder if they go home and think nobody really cares enough to look deeply. i care about you, i just trust too easily and i want to believe that you’re not dying. i guess that’s just some coping mechanism, you know? humans can’t believe the ones we love want to go. we can’t live with the idea that they’ll slip under if we leave them alone, so we paint them with good swimming skills and not a drop of sorrow in their bones.

or maybe i’m just self-centered and awful. i don’t know.

10.13.2014 // r.i.d (via inkskinned)

I am putting so much
strain on this body
with all the reaching
I’ve been doing.

My veins traverse
empty air, wrapped
around one another,
as if they are begging
to be renamed as the
tightropes they are
pretending to be.

You could walk from
the edge of me to the
center, and I would
not feel the difference.

I had forgotten what
it felt like to be touched
like anything other than
a bridge, some segmented
being to be used as
stepping stone on the
way to some place better
than these bones.

With every touch, I
feel my skin coming
back together.

i am vast and whole and entirely full of hope, Emma Bleker (via stolenwine)

“Ah, mas tudo bem. Em seguida todo mundo se acostuma. As pessoas esquecem umas das outras com tanta facilidade. Como é mesmo que minha mãe dizia? Quem não é visto não é lembrado. Longe dos olhos, longe do coração. Pois é.”
Caio Fernando de Abreu.    (via esclarecer)

tenerifesea:

"I got alotta love for this shirt"


“if you consider a woman
less pure after you’ve touched her
maybe you should take a look at your hands”

(via solacity)

I will never not reblog this

(via nuedvixx)


“Está aqui, ela, eu digo, a dita cuja saudade, implorando a mim que arranje um abraço. Ora, onde está o mal de pedir abraços, como quem pede dinheiro nos semáforos? Digo que, sendo sincera, nunca aprendi a mendigar.”
Você deveria ter me avisado que não voltava mais, Jéssica Fernandes, (a.d.s)

“There are people in this
world that will make words
you thought you understood
burn beneath your tongue
like firecrackers; I hope you
hold them close. I hope you
keep all their fire alive
within you.”
keeping warm in all this cold weather, Emma Bleker (via stolenwine)

“If a writer falls in love with you, you can never die.”
(via suspend)