Glendalough by ellieswellies on Flickr.
❝ We are like roses that have never bothered to bloom when we should have bloomed , and it is as if the sun has become disgusted with waiting.
Charles Bukowski 

(Source: seabois, via seabois)

❝ I’m not sad, but the boys who are looking for sad girls always find me. I’m not a girl anymore and I’m not sad anymore. You want me to be a tragic backdrop so that you can appear to be illuminated, so that people can say ‘Wow, isn’t he so terribly brave to love a girl who is so obviously sad?’ You think I’ll be the dark sky so you can be the star? I’ll swallow you whole.
Warsan Shire

(Source: themooncriedout)

❝ Sad people have the gift of time, while the world dizzies everyone else; they remain stagnant, their bodies refuse to follow pace with the universe. With these kind of people everything aches for too long, everything moves without rush, wounds are always wet.
Warsan Shire 

(Source: leavemetonguetied)

My body
is burning
with the shame
of not belonging.

My body
is longing.

But nobody knows that.

Warsan Shire, “Seven Lines” 

(Source: larmoyante)

❝ i feel small; but so are stars from a distance.
ten word poem, i.

(Source: somniloquencee, via my-voice-my-microphone)

❝ He’s like a song she can’t get out of her head. Hard as she tries, the melody of their meeting runs through her mind on an endless loop, each time as surprisingly sweet as the last, like a lullaby, like a hymn, and she doesn’t think she could ever get tired of hearing it.
Jennifer E. Smith

(Source: booksquoteslove)

❝ And you tried to change, didn’t you? Closed your mouth more. Tried to be softer, prettier, less volatile, less awake… You can’t make homes out of human beings. Someone should have already told you that. And if he wants to leave, then let him leave. You are terrifying, and strange, and beautiful. Something not everyone knows how to love.
Warsan Shire, For Women Who Are Difficult To Love 

(Source: seabois, via seabois)

❝ For language to have meaning there must be intervals of silence somewhere, to divide word from word and utterance from utterance. He who retires into silence does not necessarily hate language. Perhaps it is love and respect for language which imposes silence upon him.
Thomas Merton, “Disputed Questions” 

(Source: litverve)