You brave, brave thing.
One day, you’re going to
stop leaving the door open
for people who only know how
to keep leaving.
Yasmin Z, We’re All Still Learning (via unmaiden)

(Source: larmoyante)

13,683 notes
You do not even think of your own past as quite real; you dress it up, you gild it or blacken it, censor it, tinker with it…fictionalize it, in a word, and put it away on a shelf—your book, your romanced autobiography. We are all in the flight from the real reality.
― John Fowles, The French Lieutenant’s Woman (via unmaiden)

(Source: larmoyante)

2,673 notes
If you are a poet, do not fall in love with the
unpoetic.
Because while you write about the earthquake beneath thier skin, and illustrate the fog of thier breath in
the time between waking and dreaming, they will talk only
of the stranger they fucked that night.
And once you realize your loss, and discover the aching need to bleed yourself dry
onto pieces of crumpled paper,
and spend your nights screaming thoeries of love and travesty into
the abyss,
they will talk only
of the stranger they fucked that night.
― poets are fated to poets alone

send me your poetry

(via dontcryjustacid)

This

(via kylieparks)
617 notes
I watched a girl in a sundress kiss another girl on a park bench, and just as the sunlight spilled perfectly onto both of their hair, I thought to myself: “How bravely beautiful it is, that sometimes, the sea wants the city, even when it has been told its entire life it was meant for the shore.
― Christopher Poindexter (via cobie-smulders)

(Source: siouxerz)

60,685 notes