| for a couple of people i, fortunately, know. though, i will never tell them. |
life.
Newest
if life was a clicheif life was a cliché, i could tell that it feels like heaven in here. thoughts of you carelessly sticked onto walls like a thousand love letters, shopping lists for the most important dinner party of your life or death announcements. that it feels like heaven, thinkingif life was a cliche
your hands slowly moving, a thousand raindrops against
the moon-soaked window at a lovely lisbon night, we are dancing in the rain, your lungs gasping for more air to tell i love you, my face morphing into something more beautiful. if life was a cliché,
you would be the prince. i wo
by ~la-nausee
colors we painted ourselves inblack.colors we painted ourselves in
i used to want light auburn hair and a thinner frame and weird taste in music and you thinking about me as you listen to a meticulously done love song its soul dead
inside and shrieking. i used to want to know what made you so strange nowadays, and want
not to look as strange as you when you came around -
blue.
the sky was a shade you find in, a) sappy novels. b) romantic movies. c) evenings you build houses from cards with tender care and fear it will collapse on top of you. d) documentaries about shores you secretly save
by ~la-nausee
Favourites
psalm.-psalm.
when words are not enough:
when they build up like starfish, their sheen caught in water, but lose a leg or arm when you try to touch them
there are things you must know, often a word cannot close around cancer or a hemorrhage, but it can still try.
when words are not enough:
when they sting your tongue while crawling out, spread like an enameled virus
because i can never open and close my heart without shuddering first.
when words are not enough:
they pollute the oceans with stomach ulcers, ta
by *rottenpeeches
hello. x3
ContentdeviantID
| loves: literature. philosophy. art. music. science. rain. how sun tries to shine through clouds and it seems an angel fell and you know there's no angel. trying to find out the origins. of your family. of life. of birds. coffee. sleeplessness and dark circles. hands. the skin tone that looks like coffee with lots of milk. Sartre and how Roquentin can't touch stones sometimes and how much we share with him. languages i don't understand. my idol, Nazım Hikmet. my cat. birds. my literature teachers & my friends & family. brown. beige. black. red. the scent of sea and the breathing sounds and the idea of collecting things and words and scent of soil and life and death and most in between. *MataHari7 ~Heaven-CanWait too. <3 |
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