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Listen to me carefully.
Don’t you dare love me
through the blood of the girls
who came before me.
If you can’t love me
without taking the knife
to someone else,
I’d rather you didn’t love me
at all. but you’re prettier than she was” and other bad words, by Ashe Vernon (via latenightcornerstore)
3,435 notes

Give me the lover who yanks open the door
of his house and presses me to the wall
in the dim hallway, and keeps me there until I’m drenched
and shaking, whose kisses arrive by the boatload
and begin their delicious diaspora
through the cities and small towns of my body.

To hell with the saints, with the martyrs
of my childhood meant to instruct me
in the power of endurance and faith,
to hell with the next world and its pallid angels
swooning and sighing like Victorian girls.

I want this world. I want to walk into
the ocean and feel it trying to drag me along
like I’m nothing but a broken bit of scratched glass,
and I want to resist it.

Kim Addonizio, For Desire (via hellanne)

(via 5000letters)

2,498 notes
I realize after his touch
he would know me

years from now, even
in the dark, even

without my skin. Phil Memmer, “The Paleontologist’s Blind Date,” from Threat of Pleasure. (via vapourise)

(Source: literarymiscellany, via 5000letters)

1,804 notes
I was starting to realize that quiet, kind, special people come along once in a lifetime. Rae Earl, My Mad Fat Diary (via prettyliesanduglytruths)

(Source: notyetbulletproof, via 5000letters)

4,753 notes
You think I’m not a goddess?
Try me.
This is a torch song.
Touch me and you’ll burn. Margaret Atwood, from “Helen of Troy Does Countertop Dancing” (via larmoyante)

(via 5000letters)

5,361 notes
Hold onto this thought: there is something glorious trembling at the very edge of your horizon. You are not your hollow nights, or your lack of self belief or all the times you kissed someone you didn’t even want to kiss. You’re not your one night stands or your endless string of boys who fucked you and left you. You’ll get your shit together, soon, maybe not today and maybe not even next year but you will. You’ll move out and you’ll call your parents on the weekends to tell them you love them. There’ll always be milk and eggs in the fridge. You’ll get a job that feels good. You’ll fall in love and he’ll kiss you like he means it and put his fingers in your mouth and it’ll feel like coming home. Everything will shift itself into place. Azra.T “Home”  (via 5000letters)

(Source: whereallthelightsarebright, via 5000letters)

1,031 notes

Peel your heart like a pomegranate.
Offer it to him, palms outwards.
Say “eat.”

Watch him come away
stained red by you.
You’re in his teeth.

He’ll kiss you with that mouth.

Azra.T “Fruit” (via 5000letters)

(via alonesomes)

8,295 notes
I understand. That’s the trouble. I understand. I’ll understand all the time. All day and all night. Especially all night. I’ll understand. You don’t have to worry about that. Ernest Hemingway, from Winner Take Nothing (via violentwavesofemotion)

(via alonesomes)

11,002 notes
Sometimes people will see what I write and ask if I “need to talk”
I’m not crying out for help
I’m burying the body. Walter Blake Knoblock  (via abattoirrr)

(Source: walterblakeknoblock, via alonesomes)

6,404 notes
I am a fucking earth .
My heart doesn’t beat .
It quakes .
Fuck you . I love me . "Chest Quakes" by Joseph Cook (via jnc-ink)


(via alonesomes)

1,754 notes
We don’t learn to love each other well in the easy moments. Anyone is good company at a cocktail party. But love is born when we misunderstand one another and make it right, when we cry in the kitchen, when we show up uninvited with magazines and granola bars, in an effort to say, I love you. Shauna Niequist, Bread & Wine: A Love Letter to Life Around the Table, with Recipes  (via thatkindofwoman)

(Source: emotional-algebra, via alonesomes)

18,004 notes
What I want is to open up. I want to know what’s inside me. I want everybody to open up. I’m like an imbecile with a can opener in his hand, wondering where to begin— to open up the earth. I know that underneath the mess everything is marvelous. I’m sure of it. Henry Miller, Sexus (via notesondistractions)

(via alonesomes)

1,498 notes

Learn how to be
lonely. Learn what it’s like to know
that you are coming home to

yourself night after night—
that empty is just another word
for open.

Kristina Haynes, from “The Love Not Poem" (via violentwavesofemotion)

(via alonesomes)

52,129 notes
And I began to let him go. Hour by hour. Days into months. It was a physical sensation, like letting out the string of a kite. Except that the string was coming from my center. Augusten Burroughs, You Better Not Cry (via durianquotes)

(Source: durianseeds, via alonesomes)

12,207 notes