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The purpose of this blog is to create an atmosphere of innovation, originality, and perspective in the field of literature and writing in general. Feel free to submit your own work by adding /submit to my url. Everything will be credited, including my own work. Welcome to my library.

sickflower:

Moonlight-013113

Is it alright with you that I think of you often? I cant help how you climb trees inside my head. Youre always there, so maybe youll always be. It seems you want to stay.

Ive captured you there. Like the beauty. Among the roses & the wildflowers, you were the wind above all the otherness.

Is it alright with you that I write of you often? My paper falls in love with you. You look so lovely in words. You look so lovely intertwined among my poetry.

Ive written down the color of your eyes on a small slip of paper which I keep close to me in the pocket of my jeans. & when the world seems so blue I take it out & am reminded of how blue can be beautiful too.

Is it alright that I dream little dreams of you? The night finds me awake at the deepest of hours, 3 am when the world settles the pulse of the nervous lover. The moon has told me how lovely you look in my thoughts cast in its own light. The moon stirs your sleep because its true you sleep less when there is someone to think of you.

To speak deeply among the summers sounds with you would be a privilege & a pleasure, because my nights are nothing but little dreams now.

Is it alright that this is for you? Because despite a million words I could have chosen, Ive chosen you.  

 s.c. (sickflower)

 

Don’t explain. People only hear what they want to hear.
Paulo Coelho 

(Source: kari-shma, via unwrittensoul)

Well, now, if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.
If suddenly you forget me do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.
Pablo Neruda 

(Source: andwhisper, via unwrittensoul)

Mockingbirds don’t do one thing but make music for us to enjoy. They don’t eat up people’s gardens, don’t nest in corncribs, they don’t do one thing but sing their hearts out for us. That’s why it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird.
Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird 

(Source: vanished, via unwrittensoul)

Sometimes I touch the things you used to touch, looking for echoes of your fingers.
Iain Thomas, I Wrote This For You 

(via unwrittensoul)

I am completely a loner. In my head I want to feel I can be anywhere. There is sort of recklessness that being a loner allows me.
Arundhati Roy

(Source: kari-shma, via unwrittensoul)

they’re not going to let you
feel good
for very long
anywhere.
the forces aren’t going to
let you sit around
fucking off and
relaxing.
you’ve got to do it
their way.
Charles Bukowski (via untilasinglesolitonsurvives)

(Source: bukowski.net, via oxcarb)

The way her body existed only where he touched her. The rest of her was smoke.
Arundhati Roy  (via youngfolksociety)

(Source: etais, via velfides)

I don’t know the meaning of life. I don’t know why we are here. I think life is full of anxieties and fears and tears. It has a lot of grief in it, and it can be very grim. And I do not want to be the one who tries to tell somebody else what life is all about. To me it’s a complete mystery.
Charles M. Schulz (via nuaira)
I am completely a loner. In my head I want to feel I can be anywhere. There is sort of recklessness that being a loner allows me.
Arundhati Roy (via cetonans)

(Source: kari-shma, via hydromorph)