Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly. Yes, feel lightly even...– Aldous Huxley (via pigmenting)
A flower falls from his eye and blooms in a stranger’s mouth.– Paul Auster, ‘Scribe’ (Ground Work, 1991)
Keepers of private notebooks are a different breed altogether, lonely and...– “On Keeping a Notebook,” Joan Didion (via commovente)
My happiness is delicate, and like the innocence of a child it needs to be cradled close in order to be kept safe.
What lived in me perished centuries ago. I am merely dust disguised as a cocoon. Ashes is all I will be. Ashes, ashes, ashes. I hope the wind loves me like you could not.
I noticed that when the sunlight bleeds into the room, it warms you. The same way blood beneath your skin warms my body when our limbs gently brush. And I, I have watched hills of goosebumps fade from you one by one that I wish I could climb with my small fingertips. In the morning your body becomes a hillside soaking up the sun’s attention at sunrise. I can tell the light loves you as...
Aside from tea, your hair is my favorite scent of the morning.
There are many sad hearts and sullen eyes around me. I do not know whether to comfort them or hide because the air around them is thick and it chokes me. I went to a store this week and an older, fragile man smiled at me. I wanted to bring him home and have everyone learn from him what it takes to be happy again.
soft-deer: I’m such a crybaby.
I love you, but with you I am wilting.