People change and forget to tell each other.
written by Lillian Hellman
(Source : todayithought, via writingsforwinter)
We lit our cigarettes off of each other’s. We were never meant to be, no. We had sex, but I could never let her touch me. She couldn’t have extracted my soul from all the places it was hiding. That’s okay. We were what we were, when we needed it.
She was out on my balcony, late one night. I was in the kitchen, when I sensed a change in energy. I walked out onto the balcony to find her sitting with a cigarette in her fingers, trembling with tears streaming down her cheeks.
I sat down in front of her, and said gently, “Come here, sweetheart.” She slid into my lap, and sobbed into my shoulder. I remember the exact feeling of her back beneath my fingertips, as I ran my fingers up and down her spine. My god, I held her, and for the first time in so long, I felt something in my heart that resembled softness. It was a heartbreaking, heartmaking feeling.
She melted my permafrost in that moment. I cared. Suddenly, I could feel tenderness again. That was a frozen ocean melting and surging to meet her. I owe my change in seasons to her. My summer finally returned.
written by C; How Do You Take Your Coffee?
(Source : memoirsofc, via perfect)
It is as easy as a car crash – a car & a body – a leaping body, a pedestrian body – witnessed from a cigarette sidewalk how a body is & isn’t. This is the summer I am so sad you don’t want to leave me alone for five goddamn minutes: you even shave my legs for me every morning before you shave yours & you drop me off at the Chinese restaurant next to the tattoo parlor where you work & I sit at a table in the back all day ostensibly writing ostensibly being but mostly just – not dying I guess which is enough I guess. I wash the cuffs of your shirts – blood & ink splattered – in the sink every day. You ban the words I’m sorry
but I mean it anyway – the only Am I’m sure of. The moment when a woman is just a body & there I am frozen & want to walk out on you & the bar tab & walk straight back to bed please I’m sorry I’ll do better tomorrow please better tomorrow I will have a poem to show you a poem that lies about how tired it is, how it wants only to lay down beside the body & ask the woman her name.
written by Portia Elan, “You Never Only Say I Love You; You Always Say I Love You Portia”
(Source : pigmenting)
How many times have people used a pen or paintbrush because they couldn’t pull the trigger?
written by Virginia Woolf, from Selected Essays
(Source : violentwavesofemotion, via inlovingmemoryofmysanity)
come on eileen. dexy’s midnight runners.
“I just can’t wait for love to destroy us.”
- The Neighbourhood, Flawless
(Source : zaymmaliks, via carolineflack)