I said at sixteen that I don’t believe in anything, but now
I am thinking that isn’t true. I am thinking of you,
and the dappled light on the floor of your room.
And your songs, and your jaw, and the color of the moon
before a snowstorm.

Both eighteen, we agreed that this love
was not worth waiting for. The door was locked.
I touched your skin, and wondered if it would ever happen again.

At the train station, I cry, and a stranger brings me tissues.
I don’t want to kiss you, so you leave, and my knees are weak.
There is nothing sharper than the words, “I am not what you need.”

So I preserve the last moments in amber
and build a shadow box. I settle for “he loves me not.”
And I tell my mother I’m fine, but last week
I met someone with your eyes
and had to leave the party, just to avoid him.
Friday nights, I get drunk in the bathroom
and I make a scene. My friends keep me clean.
They don’t let me call you when I am bawling on the bathroom floor.
I tell everyone I don’t miss you anymore.

And you don’t miss me anymore. And I am a whore,
and maybe I told you already, but love is a pretty heavy concept.
So I won’t say I love you. Everywhere I go I hear new
reasons to believe that I am lucky. My friends love me.

On Saturday morning I shave half my head. You will never see it.
You will never ask
how I am healing.
I was surprised to find I had been faking it all along.

- Let’s Not Waste Our Time With This Anymore; Hannah Beth Ragland  (via allmymetaphors)

Iviva OlenickI believe in love. It’s permanence I’m not so certain of. 


Iviva Olenick
I believe in love. It’s permanence I’m not so certain of. 

(via rustyvoices)

(Source: galasai, via alluamity)

Leonardo da Vinci - Study of proportions (detail)

Leonardo da Vinci - Study of proportions (detail)

(Source: mysojka, via taiwana)

"I like the idea that there is a midnight somewhere that you are not a part of,
that hair falls out and regrows
so there will be parts of me that you have never known and I like
the idea of lines of coke,
of your body wrapped around me,
your hands on my throat
on the floor of a party somewhere west of here where the wind is colder.
I like the idea of growing older,
and the cracked grins, and the taste of gin and your
lips are like a space god missed.
And you are godless, and I am limp.
And I like the idea of us, of giving into lust, or of growing
up. I guess you’ll never know me
I like the thought that things keep going
even when I am in bed, breathing softly under the weight of my own head
and you are in a field somewhere west of here
coloring your hair. And I like the idea that there is somewhere
you have never existed. That there are people who don’t know you,
who can’t miss you,
who can meet people with your name and feel unchanged
by the experience. I wish my bed was big enough for the two of us
but I like the idea of a space all my own. And I don’t like being alone
but it is getting easier.
When you kiss her, I hope you don’t think of me.
I like the idea of you feeling a little less empty."
- Let’s Hold Hands in Public; Hannah Beth Ragland (via allmymetaphors)

 Cara Thayer and Louie Van Patten - “Confrontational Paintings of Intimacy”


 Cara Thayer and Louie Van Patten - “Confrontational Paintings of Intimacy”

(Source: erotically-self-absorbed, via cybergirlfriend)



Bon Iver & Daughter -Perth Love (Isonine Mashup)

(Source: queenjoanholloway, via cybergirlfriend)

(Source: picaet, via cybergirlfriend)

(Source: neonislands, via imbruk)

Clouds by Eugene Boudin.

(Source: marieantoinete, via incisio)