Nothing ever ends poetically. It ends and we turn it into poetry. All that blood was never once beautiful. It was just red.

— Kait Rokowski (via writingsforwinter)

You’re the best feeling or the worst feeling. Sometimes both.

Daily Ten Word Poems - #47 (via dailytenwords)

I feel you in my bones. Your silence screams in my ears.

— Jean-Paul Sartre, from No Exit  (via de-licacy)

Her beauty drowned me. As I sat in front of her I felt that I would do anything mad for her, anything she asked of me. She was color, brilliance, strangeness.

— Anais Nin, Henry and June (via girlinlondon)

Posted on September 23, 2014

Reblogged from: ليلى‎

Source: kocayne

Notes: 25,990 notes

Encountering you, I found a sense in my abyss.

Violette Leduc, Therese And Isabelle  (via le-dilemme)

On the beach the sadness of gramophones
deepens the ocean’s folding and falling.
It is yesterday. It is still yesterday.

Mark Strand, from “Nostalgia,” New and Selected Poems (Alfred A. Knopf, 2009)
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