More.

June 1
Miles Away

growing-orbits:

Miles Away

I want you and you are not here. I pause
in this garden, breathing the colour thought is
before language into still air. Even your name
is a pale ghost and, though I exhale it again
and again, it will not stay with me. Tonight
I make you up, imagine you, your movements clearer
than the words I have you say you said before.

Wherever you are now, inside my head you fix me
with a look, standing here whilst cool late light
dissolves into the earth. I have got your mouth wrong,
but still it smiles. I hold you closer, miles away,
inventing love, until the calls of nightjars
interrupt and turn what was to come, was certain,
into memory. The stars are filming us for no one.

— Carol Ann Duffy

(Source: mitochondria, via apoetreflects)
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(via lulusoprano)

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maudelynn:   Gorgeous shot of an Iceberg in Pleneau Bay, Antarctica Don’t know who the photog is 

maudelynn:

  Gorgeous shot of an Iceberg in Pleneau Bay, Antarctica

Don’t know who the photog is 

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mochacafe: via ohsopictures

mochacafe:

via ohsopictures

May 27
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

“It hurts so much to feel love
When you know you’ve got to break it”

Nope, not sad, just never fails to get me everytime.

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Toughened, not hardened..
Everyday’s a battle, indeed.

May 24

(Source: xllli, via warningdontreadthis)

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“ He began composing a poem. A feeling of divine happiness possessed him; his heart seemed to expand as he breathed. Suddenly, he saw the old man fumble in a pocket. He brought out something wrapped in a linen handkerchief and laid it on his knees. With infinite care he slowly parted the folds of the handkerchief and Feodor saw a book bound in parchment and tied with purple silk ribbons. He moved a little nearer the old man, who untied the ribbons and spread the book open. The pages were printed with large, black letters. Each page had a blue letter at the top embroidered in gold and by the bright moonlight it was quite easy to read what was written. Feodor moved nearer still. Then he saw that each page was a poem. He leaned over the old man’s shoulder and read for himself poems such as he had never dreamed of—poems that sounded in his ears like bells ringing in some splendid tower—like waves beating on warm sands—like dark rivers falling down forest-clad mountains. Katherine Mansfield, “Tales of a Courtyard” (via katherine-mansfield)

(via booklover)
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still-dreaming:

Listening to Konstantine will always be the best way to spend 10 minutes.
Yes. There is no argument.

May 23

GUMS HURTING SO BADLY DON’T WANNA TALK DON’T WNA EAT JUST WNA SLEEP

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(via warningdontreadthis)

May 22
aseaofquotes: Mark Haddon, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time

aseaofquotes:

Mark Haddon, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time

(via booklover)

May 20
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

Where did I go wrong
I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness

Never more apt, never more heart wrenching
I want somebody, something, anything to blame
But honestly… it just all boils back down to my inadequacies

Not good enough,
Never good enough  

And now that scene keeps replaying in my head
Cringing
Want to go back 5 seconds earlier and silence my stupid, stupid self
How could I have thought your question was directed at me
How could I have thought that things were still the same?

Truth is I miss you
Truth is you’ll never see this
Truth is I could never bring myself to tell all this to you
And I’ll continue burying my sadness under all my angst/bitterness 
Until I don’t feel a thing anymore 

May 17

:)

 

May 16

Tsunami of thoughts
I see them coming
But am helpless
unable to move

First impact knocks me over
And within seconds
I am buried

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I feel like I have moved on only to come full circle
Back to where I started

Oh gosh nights like this will be the death of me