“You love a person so much that you let them eat you alive. Watch curiously as they pick out the parts of you from between their teeth with a fingernail. Kiss their incisors after and say ‘thank god I was here’”—Azra.T “Toothpick” (via regulusblacking)
“If two points are destined to touch, the universe will always find a way to make the connection - even when all hope seems to be lost. Certain ties cannot be broken. They define who we are - and who we can become. Across space, across time, among paths we cannot predict - nature always finds a way.”—from Touch (via exoticwild)
All these boys want to fuck me, then forget me. They like having me there when they feel like it. Like the thought of me moaning their names and that’s it. They invite me over, say, make yourself at home. Okay, I say, as I climb onto their fire escapes and shake.
All these boys like to text me late at night, when they’re bored and have a cramp in one of their hands from a three-hour shower. “Just thinking about you,” they say. And that’s it. Or they type, “I read your poetry. You’re going somewhere.” “What did you read?” I reply nervously. When they get back to me it’s one, two, three weeks later. It’s, “I don’t remember. Some stuff.” And that’s it.
I am wondering what they’d write if they wrote about me. “She was nice. Sort of pretty too. I don’t think I knew her much at all.”
Or worse, “We talked a few times. I liked the way her mouth looked. Wanted to feel it on me, you know? Thought about us fucking a few times…Yeah, I’d say I knew her pretty well.”
All these boys wipe their drool on me like I am just the flesh. Just a place to die in, for the night. Just a sweet thing to reflect on when they’re feeling heavy. Just an idea that they never got and still don’t want. And that’s it. That’s it.
“The moon likes secrets. And secret things. She lets mysteries bleed into her shadows and leaves us to ask whether they originated from otherworlds, or from our own imaginations.”—Charles de Lint (via loveage-moondream)
“'People have forgotten this truth', the fox said. 'But you musn't forget it. You become responsible forever for what you've tamed. You're responsible for your rose.'”—Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince (via bookmania)