i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite new a thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones, and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz
of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh … And eyes big love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you so quite new.

e.e. cummings (via observando)
666 notes
Poetry is what happens when nothing else can. Charles Bukowski (via observando)
680 notes
onceavegun:

TSSF - Empty Space
bvbarmy25:

Front Porch Step - Private Fears In Public Places
Aren’t there enough words
flowing in your veins
to keep you going. Margaret Atwood, from “The Shadow Voice” (via the-final-sentence)

(Source: growing-orbits, via writersdelusion)

1,542 notes
Don’t – don’t go.
Don’t carry it to someone else this time.
Tell me about it if it’s something human.
Let me into your grief. Robert Frost, Home Burial  (via lontanodallapaura)

(Source: backshelfpoet, via lontanodallapaura)

319 notes
It’s all messy:
The hair.
The bed.
The words.
The heart.
Life… William Leal.   (via lontanodallapaura)

(Source: retratou, via lontanodallapaura)

393,068 notes
I don’t. I don’t want anybody else to touch you. I’m silly. I get furious if they touch you. Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms  (via lontanodallapaura)

(Source: observando, via lontanodallapaura)

56,557 notes
z-abuza:

thx for deleting the caption from my edit
In my case, literature is a kind of revenge. It’s something that gives me what real life can’t give me - all the adventures, all the suffering. All the experiences I can only live in the imagination, literature completes. Mario Vargas Llosa (via wordsnquotes)

(via wordsnquotes)

544 notes
fuckyeahbrandnewlyrics:

my pic and my edit :)