Kiss me and you will see how important I am.

409 notes "I want to tear myself from this place, from this reality, rise up like a cloud and float away, melt into this humid summer night and dissolve somewhere far, over the hills. But I am here, my legs blocks of concrete, my lungs empty of air, my throat burning. There will be no floating away." — Khaled Hosseini, The Kite Runner (via pavorst)
(via forestgirl)

The missing comes slowly, like aging does, comes quietly in the night while sleep clings to my lashes and cheekbones and mouth. One day I woke up and everything was different. I could see people I’d run into by accident, snatches of grass or dirt or hair or more skin on an arm or calf after…

(Source: fleurishes)

0 notes "What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under my head till morning; but the rain
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh
Upon the glass and listen for reply,
And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain
For unremembered lads that not again
Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.
Thus in winter stands the lonely tree,
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,
Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:
I cannot say what loves have come and gone,
I only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more." — Edna St.Vincent Millay, Sonnet XLIII

115 notes "
All morning the
Morning has been blackening,

A flower left out.
My bones hold a stillness, the far
Fields melt my heart.
" — Sylvia Plath (via seabois)
(via lavendertree)

4,904 notes "I’ve spent so much time in my head and in my heart that I forgot to live in my body." — Tara Hardy, Bone Marrow (via lavandula)
(Source: themilesiwandered, via lavandula)

1,823 notes "And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter— they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long." — Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath
(Source: larmoyante, via intheindieworld)

9,299 notes "I believed that I wanted to be a poet, but deep down I just wanted to be a poem." — Jaime Gil de Bieda (via thelostdeer)
(Source: light-essence, via thelostdeer)

235 notes "At the bottom of her heart, however, she was waiting for something to happen. Like shipwrecked sailors, she turned despairing eyes upon the solitude of her life, seeking afar off some white sail in the mists of the horizon. She did not know what this chance would be, what wind would bring it her, towards what shore it would drive her, if it would be a shallop or a three-decker, laden with anguish or full of bliss to the portholes. But each morning, as she awoke, she hoped it would come that day; she listened to every sound, sprang up with a start, wondered that it did not come; then at sunset, always more saddened, she longed for the morrow." — Gustave Flaubert (via cite-belle)
(via starmaps)

115 notes "Garden fairies come at dawn,
Bless the flowers then they’re gone." — Author Unknown (via faeriepetals)
(Source: seabois, via faeriepetals)

155 notes

the pocketmouse: “Once upon a time there was a boy who loved a girl, and her laughter...

thepocketmouse:

“Once upon a time there was a boy who loved a girl, and her laughter was a question he wanted to spend his whole life answering. When they were ten he asked her to marry him. When they were eleven he kissed her for the first time. When they were thirteen they got into a fight and for three…