It’s strange. I felt less lonely when I didn’t know you.
- Jean-Paul Sartre, from The Flies, in No Exit and the Flies (via dieworten)

(Source: wordsthat-speak)

A couple wrapped in a quilt, hugging, photographed by Burk Uzzle in the morning of August 17 at Woodstock, 1969. [x]

(Source: babeimgonnaleaveu)

Never grow a wishbone, daughter, where your backbone ought to be.
- Clementine Paddleford (via 5000letters)
We will love like dogwood.
Kiss like cranes.
Die like moths.
I promise.
- Larissa Shmailo, “Spring Vow”  (via spiderjerusalems)

(Source: oofpoetry)

writingsforwinter:

Never trust a man who howls at you like a wolf

without treating you like the moon.

Vanity, Roque Dalton.

Mine would be a great death

My sins would glow like ancient jewels
with the delicious iridescence of venom

Aromas of all kinds would flower from my grave
teenage versions of my greatest joys
my secret words of sorrow

Maybe someone will say that I was loyal or good
but only you will remember
the way I looked into your eyes.  

Brooklyn’s too cold tonight
& all my friends are three years away.
My mother said I could be anything
I wanted—but I chose to live.
On the stoop of an old brownstone,
a cigarette flares, then fades.
I walk towards it: a razor
sharpened with silence.
A jawline etched in smoke.
The mouth where I’ll be made
new again. Stranger, palpable
echo, here is my hand, filled
with blood thin as a widow’s
tears. I am ready. I am ready
to be every animal
you leave behind.
- "Thanksgiving, 2006," Ocean Vuong (via commovente)