#litrature
"I would rather die of passion than of boredom"
- Van Gough
8 notes · View notes
I am constantly on the verge of extension boredom, haunted by an incomplete feeling, that there must be more to life than this. I seek answers but I do not seem to know the right questions. Even the most random chaotic life becomes routine if done enough Times. A perpetual cycle of repetitive patterns presented as grandiose visions of goals and achievements. The desired perfection is always just outside the reach. I always find joy in little things, I must find joy in Little things, to find the joy of living.
8 notes · View notes
"I only do this shit to get to you"
Trevor Jackson / get to you
7 notes · View notes
Fooling the readers with words is a sophisticated sorcery we poets/writers do😉
....
It always leaves you with questions...To know about the backstory, is it something they personally experienced, saw someone go through or just their imagination perhaps...
....
Happy April Fool's Day folks✌🏻
So tell me in the comments, a prank that you loved doing as a child on April Fool's Day💙
....
Follow @That_nextdoor_writer for more :)
#thatnextdoorwriter #dhanveeganatra
2 notes · View notes
The overwhelming feelin !
2 notes · View notes
لماذا اجدُ في عينيك الوطنَ الحبيبَ و استشعرُ فيها المسكن المُحرم... كيف لك ان تعبث بجدار فؤادي كما تشاء بل و تخدشه بلا اناملٍ تُرى و ان اتقاسم الابتسام لدونك معك و ان تهرع إليك روحي في غسقِ الليل بينما اظلُ ساكنةً بلا حراك و قد أصبحتُ جسدًا بلا روح و ان تدور عيناي باحثةً عنك في تقاسيمِ الاوجه و لا تراك سوى ف حُلمٍ و ما بعده من احلامٍ... كيف لسنوات عمري الهاربة ان تجدَ المقرَ في نظرةٍ حالمة تعبر مئات الاميال من فرط الاحساس.. كيف؟
0 notes
heather <3
Valerie stared at Heather; how could someone be so perfect? Her skin was like a painting, each brush stroke defining her bone structure with elegance. Her lips were always smooth and glossed over with strawberry chapstick, the same one she had worn for years. The dimples on her cheeks were prominent when she smiled or laughed , which was a melody to everyone who heard, it was distinctive: one that ran through your body, the type that stayed with you even when she was not around. Her nose scrunched as she laughs making her look pure and ethereal.
Looking into Heather’s eyes were like falling into a pool of water, they glistened with an innocence and kindness. The way her hair was always so unique and beautiful even when she was persistent it was a mess. The perfume she wore was so prominent, so... her; a musky scent infused with spices and an undertone of berries.
Her aura was so comforting and loving, every worry you had slipped away when you was with her, she lifted the weights off of your shoulders even if it was just for a short while. You felt free with her, as if you were the only people in this place; everything meant nothing. She was lilies and tulips, butterflies and bees, honey and fruit, everything in the world that was paradisiacal and divine.
Heavenly
1 note · View note
“So now I seat you in the chair, unable to grasp the scope of my fortune with words eyes hands and my poor heart, my happiness that you are here and really mine.”
Franz Kafka, Letters To Milena
1 note · View note
"I hope ..... In another lifetime, our souls would find each other".
59 notes · View notes
Love the person who knows your worth and values your being.
1 note · View note
Having poetry conversations, being high on caffeine, visiting libraries, discussing about our favourite authors and poets , having museum days, reading books ,vibing to music and exploring about myths and philosophy is all I need !🌝
1 note · View note
Look what came in mail today 🥺🤎📚☕
1 note · View note
The last book I read was 'To kill a mockingbird ' what was yours?
0 notes
Shikayat
مِیرا عِشقّ ہُوا نہ کَامِل، سُرخُرو تُو بھی نہ ہوگا
مَر تو میں جاؤں گا ایک دِن، جَاوِداں تُو بھی نہ ہوگا
اور جا کے کروں گا شکایت رَبِ کریم سے تیری بیوفائی کی
کہ گنہگار تو میں بھی ہوں مگر، جَنت میں تُو بھی نہ ہوگا
از قلم: اُسامہ
1 note · View note
“Now I’m even losing my name— it was getting shorter and shorter all the time and it’s now: Yours.”
Franz Kafka, Letters To Milena
0 notes
“There’s hardly any time left to write to the real Milena, since the even more real one was here the whole day, in the room, on the balcony, in the clouds.”
- Franz Kafka, Letters To Milena
0 notes
"At the end of the day, we're all made of stardust"
12 notes · View notes