Oh the glory when you ran outside with your shirt tucked in and your shoes untied and you told me not to follow you.
sexondary:

"I love you. I hope you go to sleep knowing that."

sexondary:

"I love you. I hope you go to sleep knowing that."

I’m not in love with you but I seem to keep acting that way. If I ever figure it out I’l let you know.
Anne Sexton, from A Self-Portrait in Letters (via c-ovet)
northmagneticpole:

Eclipse of the Moon, 1856-Scottish mapmaker Alex Keith Johnston. (Antique Print Room)

northmagneticpole:

Eclipse of the Moon, 1856-Scottish mapmaker Alex Keith Johnston. (Antique Print Room)

You are nothing without me. I created you from spit and red dust. And I can snuff you between my finger and thumb if I want to. Blow you to kingdom come. You’re just a smudge of paint I chose to birth on canvas. And when I made you over, you were no longer a part of her, you were all mine. The landscape of your body taut as a drum. The heart beneath that hide thrumming and thrumming. Not an inch did I give back.
Sandra Cisneros, from “Never Marry a Mexican,” Woman Hollering Creek (via lifeinpoetry)
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