View From The Top Of Alberta Falls.  Estes Park, Colorado

I went away in my head, into a book. That was where I went whenever real life was too hard or too inflexible.

Neil Gaiman, The Ocean at the End of the Lane  (via wordsnquotes)

Books save lives

Help those who most need help!

Photo by Julie Remy/MSF 

After being turned away from a facility for asylum-seekers in Bogovadja, Serbia, a refugee from Syria seeks help from a MSF medical volunteer. 

On their journey through the Balkans to seek safety and assistance in Europe, many asylum seekers, refugees, and migrants become stranded in forests and abandoned buildings in Serbia. They struggle through the cold weather without sufficient food or shelter, and have limited access to basic medical care. What’s more, they are often exposed to criminal networks, physical attacks, and robberies.

She watches the sky so often Her eyes began to resemble the stars. (She finds a home in the loneliest of places.)

A.N.S.  (via wordsnquotes)

Geneva, Switzerland

Do not pass me off as a delicate flower. I’ve bled like you. I’ve scrapped the skin on my knees and ripped the seams of my fingertips like any other man. And just as a man, I’ve ached in my bones and forged fury from my person. I am as delicate as a flower with prickly thorns.

splenduit (via wnq-writers)

I’m not really so hard & cynical after all — in fact I’m still dangerously soft.

Tennessee Williams, Notebooks (via wordsnquotes)

You looked me with such tenderness behind your eyes that I fought the urge to run so much my hands trembled. You thought I was just nervous, but it was for all the wrong reasons. For once in my life I am certain of something, I never have to be afraid of you hurting me. You’re so sure of how you feel, you forget that I haven’t dropped my sword. My amour still stands, although the warmth of your embrace may melt the metal.

Anonymous (via wnq-writers)

New love

I know you don’t exactly have a way with words that you couldn’t possibly understand the storm that washed the thoughts from my mind or the distraction of worrying about my cheeks blushing when you lean in to whisper when there is no one within earshot i can’t possibly express on paper that feeling of taking a breath, of the moment in suspension right before you lose your balance that burns within my stomach when I catch you looking at me like that without warning there are so many words in the english language and no matter how many times I describe the warmth of your fingers or the fluster of nothing on my lips i cannot fathom us into poetry i am a poet and you do not make sense to me I cannot describe you as a blooming flower, unfurling to reveal the deepest parts of yourself because you would only laugh at that I cannot describe you in hyperboles or words or metaphors and I am a poet so that makes me want to scream my throat raw and rip apart the paper and words that flood from my fingertips messily that is the only way i can describe us and somewhat feel satisfied in the way I always seek satisfaction in words to write poetry about us is to write in a dead language to write poetry about us is the frustration in watching you expose the bruises on your jaw and cling onto your dignity while you whisper how reckless you’ve been into my shoulder I cannot bandage your pride; I cannot compose you into a sonnet I can write every delicate detail of drowning in a golden clawed bathtub or sitting in sunlight with flowers woven behind my ears but the truth is that each image i conjure isn’t simple enough because we are not an epic simile and your hands are not actually fire burning at my cheeks they are just hands I can write about myself I can condense myself into a neat placement of words but you I cannot describe you even if I spoke in hieroglyphics or braille I was once told that despite how beautiful, language is flawed And I did not believe that one bit Until you looked at me with an expression That I could not find a metaphor for you are strictly tangible, only flesh and crooked front teeth and that is why my heart will soon fracture for I can either write us onto paper or I can silently love you

ochredeity, ”To the boy I love”  (via wordsnquotes)

Words cannot describe.

#Vikings #hotmen #beard

I’m destroying the bridge to the person that has been destroying me.

starlocketz,  ”The Day I Deleted You From My Life” (via wnq-writers)

Truth!