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\\In our deepest moments we say the most inadequate things.\\



This sun sets too slowly,
A steady wind blows in,
brisk, impossible.

The oak in my neighbors yard whispers irony,
The other trees lean in.

My roots to this place grow deep,
They smell of summers,
un-kiss me please,
I can’t forget you.
You have trapped a bitter winter in my bones.

I sleep fitfully,
dreaming in pieces,
Vivid, stark reality
Lightning bugs on darkness

That terrifying red,
August sky
And fingers intertwined
like I’ll be kidnapped at any moment.


Jurien (via paprmche)

(Source: , via contramonte)

"The continuous narrative of existence is a lie. There is no continuous narrative, there are lit-up moments, and the rest is dark."

Jeanette Winterson (via observando)

(via grammatolatry)

"I remember
how seeing the shape of your mouth
that first time, I kept staring
until my blood turned to rain.

Some things take root
in the brain and just don’t
let go."

Tim Seibles, Slow Dance   (via grammatolatry)

(Source: rarararambles, via grammatolatry)

"I have learned that a woman can be a fighter, a freedom fighter, a political activist, and that she can fall in love and be loved. She can be married, have children, be a mother. Revolution must mean life also; every aspect of life."

Leila Khaled (via aerialwarfare)

(Source: 600tongues, via irresistible-revolution)