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When raindrops cease to wet the ground

And when fire freezes at the sight of snow

When the ocean becomes sweet,

As the breeze of wind lulls its waves,

And when the shadows devour the sun,

As the moon quits mirroring its light.

When Friday nights become Monday mornings,

When my tattoo of your name disappears into a void,

Which only your touch can fill.

And when the thought of your lips pressed on mine,

Stops making me feel like cherry wine

That’s when I’ll stop loving you.

- FP

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Renaissance art was all just fan art for Jesus

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To my Milena ( @silenziobruno ) you are abbreviations of heavens !

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Florence Cools

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Some words stay in your head long after they’re spoken.

– Robin Roe, A List of Cages

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(via violentwavesofemotion)

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Poets are the painters of human experience, capturing the colors of their heart in verse.

— agelesslibrary

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Double Cluster NGC 1850 in Dorado © Hubble

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William Gaddis, from The Recognitions, originally published in 1955

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Forugh Farrokhzad, tr. by Sholeh Wolpé, from Sin: Selected Poems of Forugh Farrokhzad; “On Loving”

[Text ID: "I'm so filled with you / I want to run through meadows, / bash my head against mountain rocks, / give myself to ocean waves. / I'm so filled with you / I want to crumble into myself like a speck of dust, / to gently lay my head at your feet, / cling fast to your weightless shadow."]

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musings on hands

Ocean Vuong, Don Snyder, Richard Siken, Masao Yamamoto, Franz Kafka, Hussein Chalayan, Sylvia Plath

buy me a coffee

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