I am a part of all that I have met.
Alfred Tennyson, excerpt from “Ulysses”
Who sees the human face correctly: the photographer, the mirror, or the painter?
I don’t want just words. If that’s all you have for me, you’d better go.
F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Beautiful and Damned (via larmoyante)
My tears have built a boat and carried you away from me and I can’t feel anything except the tightness in my chest and the burning of my throat. I crave the touch of your bitter lips pressed against mine and your beer breath brushing up and down my neck, but you’re gone and I miss you and there’s nothing that I can do that will bring you back.
If this isn’t love I’d like it to be, like to draw you into my room and shut the door, would like to write poetry while you lie in my lap, would like to untangle myself from your breathing in the morning and ask you if you want to shower with me, would like you to run through me like a river until my pebbled heart erodes into sand, until all my body can do is fade into you.
This Is Not A Love Letter, But It Could’ve Been, Cody Gohl