unspoken words

itsmegallene:

“Sometimes the world ends and forgets to take you with it.”

Jewel E. Ann, Look the Part

fawnaura:

“What more do you want? I make you pancakes, I take you hunting, I talk to you as if you’re really there. Are you there, sweetheart? Do you know me?”

— Richard Siken, from Crush; “Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out”

lifeinpoetry:

Because madness is a lie too. Like night. Like death.

— Alejandra Pizarnik, from “Sex, Night,” The Galloping Hour

selenastaylors:

cant stop thinking about this

zegalba:

An anonymous author’s novel written on the walls of an abandoned house in Chongqing, China (2012)

wallflowerjill1:

It is not uncommon for people to spend their whole life waiting to start living.

~Eckhart Tolle, The Power of Now

catchymemes:

tigerwing-infinity:

ousia-poetica:

Thank you random sign

thoughtkick:

“The woman you are becoming will cost you people, relationships, spaces, and material things. Choose her over everything.”

— Unknown

joytri:

starlightacademia:

In some parallel universe, I know you held me tighter. You tried harder. You said, “Look my love, I will meet you halfway.”

- N.M.Sanchez, from Initial Meeting

virgin-martyr:

I picture you sometimes as a set of Russian dolls, each layer revealing nothing except a tiny, weaker version of yourself, at the end only hollowness.

Sophie Mackintosh, excerpt from Cursed Bread

starlightacademia:

one day you think: I want to die. and then you think, very quietly: actually. actually. I think I want a coffee. a nap. a sandwich. a book. and I want to die turns day by day into want to go home, I want to walk in the woods, I want to see my friend, I want to sit in the sun, I want a cleaner kitchen, I want a better job, I want to live somewhere else. I want to live.

- via duckbunny

gnossienne:

gnossienne:

natalie diaz, “manhattan is a lenape word”, postcolonial love poem

anne sexton, “the truth the dead know“