Because there is still a flicker of heat, no larger than a storm-cellar candle...– from “Here Comes the…” by Melissa May (via gotflavorlikeicecream)
She stubs out her cigarette in the ashtray, then settles herself against him,...– Margaret Atwood, from “The Blind Assassin” (via aubade)
I drank to drown my sorrows, but the damned things learned how to swim– Frida.
I wanted to write “stay” on your sides, surround your bed with oceans of...– J. Bradley (via grammatolatry)
Day 339. (Somewhat Seasonal)
poetcetera: (A series of haiku.) I. I built my life on already broken dreams. He huddled within them. II. “I love you,” I said, skipping to the good parts. I just wanted the end. III. Life became a mass of messy meanings. It made me more mistaken. IV. “I love you, too,” he said, as if that made it less confusing somehow.