Latest Posts by salinyay-blog - Page 2

Heaven’s touch is when she kisses me.

thoughts #14 | r.m (via rmeisel)

She burned too bright for this world.

Wuthering Heights, Emily Bronte (b. 30 July 1818)

Remember that the world began in a manic episode, too. God likes to hoard sharp things, just like you. We are saving you. And we need to hear it one more time: Who knows best?

Lydia Havens, From the Voices, published in “Pouch” (via mythaelogy)

ART HISTORY MEME | [1/7] sculptures; david

There is a beautiful sorrow in turning your back to something you once loved, and smiling.

KPK (via ipoetried)

Dance is a body’s refusal to die. But, oh, your gone hair. The flame & orange flare. Our forms, our least known selves— barrel, sugar, & stench. Your pleas, looped in writing, the stutter of a body’s broken grammar. —Cathy Linh Che, from “I walked through the trees, mourning.” published in Poetry Magazine

I pray you are what waits To break back into the world Through me.

Tracy K. Smith, “The Speed of Belief.” (via literarymiscellany)

I want to open my mouth and sound a language that calls all language home.

Nickole Brown, A Prayer to Talk to Animals (via tristealven)

Tell me, Atlas.

I. Black and white, I dream of hands I’ve never felt, the ghost of lips trace over my skin and it almost feels like a promise if I clench my teeth hard enough. II. We are both breathing the same stardust from a galaxy away, every inhale an unspoken ‘I love you,’ every exhale an ‘I’m sorry, I love him more.’ III. The stars continue to burn but I am already ashes. You are forever Apollo, rising in the East and I am falling like lukewarm snowflakes. IV. You don’t sleep enough to dream of my hand against your throat, you begging me to make you mortal- you never will be. You will forget about this. V. I will not. VI. Cassandra warned me not to love you and if I clench my teeth hard enough, I can pretend I never did.

oh, well isn’t this a tragedy || O.L. (via poetbitesback)

It is quite unbelievable that there will be people that I will love unconditionally that I have not met yet. Somewhere out there, in a supermarket or singing in the shower, there are souls that have not touched mine yet but will, eventually.

// The Skies We’re Under j.d.m. (via poetryandthesea)

Prayers and mantras will be blown by the wind and emit positive spiritual vibrations… Namaste 🙏🏼 at 5.357m http://ift.tt/2w44udz

What a view to wake up to - Sapa, Vietnam

www.facebook.com/louisecoghillphotography

www.louisecoghill.com.au

@louisetakesphotos

Sober like a face slap, obvious as the morning after, I saw you for what you are: a woman, cruel and imperfect, a fighter who tried everything to protect her one and only heart, how it didn’t matter, it was torn fresh from its root anyway

Cristin O'Keefe Aptowicz, excerpt from Lilith (via theoryoflostthings)

– Anne Carson, “Short Talk on Van Gogh”

I see you as a god / at the crossroads burning your secrets for lamplight.

Sade Murphy, from “self portrait: acetone and hesitance carved into linoleum,” published in Joint (via lifeinpoetry)

Sunrise on the river

I try to gain on thoughts Collected

Scramble to top For perspective

A mind is slippery With justification

It’s so easy / to pool / At the bottom

So I entered. So I lost.       I lost it all with my eyes   wide open.

Ocean Vuong, Threshold (via: skinthepoet)

Downtown

Instagram

It was just the same long summer, always, and everything lived and grew at its own pace.

Tove Jansson, The Summer Book (via a-quiet-green-agreement)