lonely nights & empty streets
walking down the same old boulevard, shadows cut down by lamplight, echoes of laughter drift down to me on a melancholy wind
there's only the shadow of you beside me, chiaroscuro in everything you touched, like Midas, what was light is now dark, including me
like grains in the sand of time, you fell into my grasp, a fleeting touch before slipping away, as hazy as a dream.
i wake up now amongst choking, cloying darkness without your warmth to guide me home.
clammy hands and shallow breaths
you were a dream. and then you weren't.
will you come back as quickly as you left?
94 notes
·
View notes
17-02-23
i entirely believe
that the golden hour
is the most special time of all
2 notes
·
View notes
{Words by Anaïs Nin, from The Diary Of Anais Nin, Vol. 4 (1944-1947) / Cynthia Cruz from diagnosis,The glimmering room}
66K notes
·
View notes
— Trista Mateer ,“I Still Forget We’re Not Even Friends”
60K notes
·
View notes
Fyodor Dostoyevsky // Alanis Morissette
120K notes
·
View notes
Read, read, read. Read everything -- trash, classics, good and bad, and see how they do it. Just like a carpenter who works as an apprentice and studies the master. Read! You'll absorb it. Then write. If it's good, you'll find out. If it's not, throw it out of the window.
— William Faulkner.
17K notes
·
View notes
"I may think of you softly from time to time. But I’ll cut off my hand before I ever reach for you again."
//Arthur Miller, The Crucible: A Play in Four Acts
12K notes
·
View notes
It was April and she was the saddest thing under the sun.
Khush Bakht via wordedarchive
9K notes
·
View notes