Night-Changed Heart.

rainbows
cherries
cupcakes
poetry
fairylights
stars
healing
moving on
strength
wisdom
pearls
me.
you.

(Source: serialstranger)

lesleybarnesfashion:

My second illustration for the Glamour Magazine horoscope. The Libra girl is wearing Comme des Garcons AW 2012 and has some Tatty Devine sunnies in her hand.

GORGEOUS!

I wish I was a photograph tucked into the corners of your wallet.
I wish I was a photograph you carried like a future in your back pocket.
I wish I was that face you showed to strangers when they ask you where you’ve come from.
I wish I was that someone that you’ve come from every time you get there.
And when you get there,
I wish I was that someone that got phone calls and postcards saying “wish you were here.”
I wish you were here.

Andrea Gibson, Photograph (via loveyourchaos)

(Source: forgothowtowrite)

After Love

aprettywar:

When love empties itself out,
it fills our bodies full.

For an hour we lie braiding
pulse and skin together,

like infants who sigh
and doze, dreamy with milk.

— Donald Hall

mere air, these words: Affirmation 

aprettywar:

To grow old is to lose everything.
Aging, everybody knows it.
Even when we are young,
we glimpse it sometimes, and nod our heads
when a grandfather dies.
Then we row for years on the midsummer
pond, ignorant and content. But a marriage,
that began without harm, scatters
into debris on the…

(Source: journalofanobody)

mere air, these words: Affirmation 

aprettywar:

To grow old is to lose everything.
Aging, everybody knows it.
Even when we are young,
we glimpse it sometimes, and nod our heads
when a grandfather dies.
Then we row for years on the midsummer
pond, ignorant and content. But a marriage,
that began without harm, scatters
into debris on the…

(Source: journalofanobody)

I love incorrectly.

There is a solemnity in hands,
the way a palm will curve in
accordance to a contour of skin,
the way it will release a story.

This should be the pilgrimage.
The touching of a source.
This is what sanctifies.

This pleading. This mercy.
I want to be a pilgrim to everyone,
close to the inaccuracies, the astringent
dislikes, the wayward peace, the private
words. I want to be close to the telling.
I want to feel everyone whisper.

After the blossoming I hang.
The encyclical that has come
through the branches
instructs us to root, to become
the design encapsulated within.

Flesh helping stone turn tree.

I do not want to hold life
at my extremities, see it prepare
itself for my own perpetuation.
I want to touch and be touched
by things similar in this world.

I want to know a few secular days
of perfection. Late in this one great season
the diffused morning light
hides the horizon of sea. Everything
the color of slate, a soft tablet
to press a philosophy to.

“The Confession of an Apricot,” Carl Adamshick (via glowgirl)

I love incorrectly.

There is a solemnity in hands,
the way a palm will curve in
accordance to a contour of skin,
the way it will release a story.

This should be the pilgrimage.
The touching of a source.
This is what sanctifies.

This pleading. This mercy.
I want to be a pilgrim to everyone,
close to the inaccuracies, the astringent
dislikes, the wayward peace, the private
words. I want to be close to the telling.
I want to feel everyone whisper.

After the blossoming I hang.
The encyclical that has come
through the branches
instructs us to root, to become
the design encapsulated within.

Flesh helping stone turn tree.

I do not want to hold life
at my extremities, see it prepare
itself for my own perpetuation.
I want to touch and be touched
by things similar in this world.

I want to know a few secular days
of perfection. Late in this one great season
the diffused morning light
hides the horizon of sea. Everything
the color of slate, a soft tablet
to press a philosophy to.

“The Confession of an Apricot,” Carl Adamshick (via glowgirl)

angelcondensada:

shuffledkisses:

That easy? Let’s try.

angelcondensada:

shuffledkisses:

That easy? Let’s try.

Nothing shall hurt us that is of our own nature - we always walk towards ourselves.

Austin Osman Spare (via cavesoflilith) (via quote-book) (via yourhappyplace)

jennlennon:

I’m in love with The Golden Girls.
Watching this show helps me
if I’m down or upset or just want something to watch. 
I love watching old shows in general :3
Sometimes they’re just simply the best. 

There are rocks deep enough in this earth that no matter what the rupture, they will never see the surface.
There is, I think, a fear of love
There is a fear of love.

Let the Great World Spin, Colum McCann (via lovebot)

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