My memory loves you; it asks about you all the time.
― Jonathan Carroll (via larmoyante)
what doesn’t kill you
leaves scars
ruins your lungs
dries out all your tears
leaves you lying awake at 4 in the morning
wishing you weren’t alive
leaves scars
ruins your lungs
dries out all your tears
leaves you lying awake at 4 in the morning
wishing you weren’t alive
― c.c. (via fabulousbitch69)
But even so, every now and then I would feel a violent stab of loneliness. The very water I drink, the very air I breathe, would feel like long, sharp needles. The pages of a book in my hands would take on the threatening metallic gleam of razor blades. I could hear the roots of loneliness creeping through me when the world was hushed at four o’clock in the morning.
― Haruki Murakami, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle (via larmoyante)
In another world, your mouth would have been on mine
by now. So much rain is in our bodies, so many exhalations
poured from one chest into another;
when we kissed our tongues became knives.
I used to find your hair stuck in the shower drain,
ten ringlets wet and dark.
I tell my friends about…
