" A soft woman
is simply a wolf
caught in meditation. "
Pavana पवन (via kinkycasey
(Source: maza-dohta, via weaverofstars)
" Daughter of the moon
And daughter of the seas
Daughter of the winds
And daughter of the leaves "
Daughter of the Elements, Lisa Thiel
(Source: salemslunacy, via hayleyjustine)
" There are violet hills,
there is the covenant of duskbirds.
The moon comes over the mountain
like a big peach, and I want to tell you
what I couldn’t say the night we rushed
North, how I love the seriousness of your fingers
and the way you go into yourself,
calling my half-name like a secret. "
Stacie Cassarino, from “Summer Solstice,” Zero at the Bone
(New Issues Press, 2009)
(Source: apoetreflects, via petrichour)
" .تَمَزَّقْتُ عِدَّةَ مَراتّ
هذا مَا يَدُلُ عَنّي شَيْأً
أَنَّنِي اَعِيشُ في
i fell apart many times.
what does that say about me
i live through
(Source: inderacinable, via tat-art)
like bottled up sea breeze breath
salt veins mixing with stars and
drawing constellations on her chest
there’s a valley of amethyst crystals
shooting energy from her pores
and the dripping sap of Neptune
playing pan flute with the Moon
her eyes seduce me into infinity
and her waters warm and spellbinding
and inside her you can breathe underwater
like a liquid bathe in celestial dreams
she is a dream?
or so she all seems
" I want in fact more of you. In my mind I am dressing you with light; I am wrapping you up in blankets of complete acceptance and then I give myself to you. I long for you; I who usually long without longing, as though I am unconscious and absorbed in neutrality and apathy, really, utterly long for every bit of you. "
Franz Kafka, Letters To Milena
(Source: whyallcaps.us, via man-of-prose)
" Wanted, wanted: Dolores Haze.
Hair: brown. Lips: scarlet. "
Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita
" A little cold in the coal of the pomegranate
eases the sting of fire in the metaphor. (If I were nearer
to me than you, I would kiss myself.) "
Mahmoud Darwish, As for Spring from Almond Blossom
(Source: vitrina, via man-of-prose)
" Your letter reduced me to ten days silence from sheer pleasure. "
Virginia Woolf, from a letter to Vita Sackville-West dated 15 May 1932
" August rain: the best of the summer gone, and the new fall not yet born. The odd uneven time. "
(Source: featherandarrow, via preheatedmemory)
you touching my arm
setting fire to my mind. "
(Source: nayyirahwaheed, via shesinacoma)