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Tomorrow is the last night
till our love becomes an ellipses.
Me, leaving. You, going — the
distance between us stretching
across state lines that for me
hold oceans between them.
Please. I press my lips against your skin
like a plea. Your fingers between mine
are prayers that I’ve been trying to find the
words for since the first time I woke up
from a dream about angels to see you
looking at me with the sky
in your eyes.

The worst part about being human is having
a heart so susceptible to metaphors.

Your lips are tulips in the vase of my throat.
You photosynthesize and my blood is made of chlorophyll.

I can’t differentiate between your pulse and mine
and I want to tell you that
All my poems sound like sighs since I’ve met you,
but you’re painting my neck the color of your breath
and I’m so distracted, thinking of you and your lashes
that furl and unfurl just for me, tonight.

You are the summer of the seven-year locusts.
You are so much that it’s breaking my heart.

I read you the first page of a novel by Nathacha Appanah
but I’m terrible at words so you kiss them away.

The night yawns and wraps its arms
around us both. You hold me closer and I want to cry.

I write what I have never told you slowly on your skin.

Do you know how it hurts to touch you
knowing that in the morning I’ll still wake up alone?

Tomorrow is the last night
till our love becomes an ellipses.
I don’t want to think of all those suns
that will rise without you.

— Shinji Moon, I Love You

9:28 pm  334 notes

“Truth is so darkened nowadays, and lies so established, that unless we love the truth we will never know it.”

— Blaise Pascal

10:58 pm  271 notes

“I was always attracted not by some quantifiable, external beauty, but by something deep down, something absolute. Just as some people have a secret love for rainstorms, earthquakes, or blackouts, I liked that certain undefinable something directed my way by members of the opposite sex. For want of a better word, call it magnetism. Like it or not, it’s a kind of power that snares people and reels them in.”

— Haruki Murakami

7:03 pm  507 notes

Are there any contemporary poets whom you particularly like?
by agrww

of course. i’m a very big fan of bukowski, t.s. eliot, e.e. cummings. if you want any recommendations for a particular poet, i’d be more than happy to provide you with some. you can find more of my favorites here.


nayyirah waheed and shinji moon!!!!!


8:25 pm  10 notes

Sometimes I think you are undoubtedly the most horrible human being in the entire world, but then I realize that I'm just an idiot. The only way to not let you win is to shut you out. I want to show you that you're not the only one with unbreakable walls, because once mine go up you'll be shut out forever, I'll just add you to the shallow dark part of my heart that I lock away. I'll show you who the horrible human being is, you'll feel the cold and I wont care if you keep knocking. Game over.
by Anonymous


8:35 pm  38 notes

“Sleep heavily and know that I am here with you. The past is gone, and cannot harm you anymore. And while the future is fast coming for you, it always flinches first, and settles in as the gentle present. This now, this us, we can cope with that. We can do this together you and I.”

Welcome to Night Vale

9:05 pm  635 notes

“I’m sorry, I’m awful, I’ve just felt so terribly destructive all week. It’s awful. I’m horrible.”

— J.D. Salinger, Franny and Zooey

9:03 pm  708 notes

“I loved you so much once. I did. More than anything in the whole wide world. Imagine that. What a laugh that is now. We were so intimate once upon a time I can’t believe it now. I think that’s the strangest thing of all now. The memory of being that intimate with somebody. We were so intimate I could puke. I can’t imagine ever being that intimate with somebody else. I haven’t been.”

— Raymond Carver, Where I’m Calling From

9:02 pm  2,860 notes

In the beginning, God created the earth, and he looked upon it in His cosmic loneliness.

And God said, “Let Us make living creatures out of mud, so the mud can see what We have done.” And God created every living creature that now moveth, and one was man. Mud as man alone could speak. God leaned close as mud as man sat up, looked around, and spoke. Man blinked. “What is the purpose of all this?” he asked politely.

“Everything must have a purpose?” asked God.

“Certainly,” said man.

“Then I leave it to you to think of one for all this,” said God.

And He went away.

— Kurt Vonnegut, Cat’s Cradle

10:25 pm  1,133 notes

when god lets my body be
From each brave eye shall sprout a tree
fruit that dangles therefrom

the purpled world will dance upon
Between my lips which did sing

a rose shall beget the spring
that maidens whom passion wastes

will lay between their little breasts
My strong fingers beneath the snow

Into strenuous birds shall go
my love walking in the grass

their wings will touch with her face
and all the while shall my heart be

With the bulge and nuzzle of the sea

— e.e. cummings

10:23 pm  101 notes

“I’m haunted by all
the space that I
will live without

— Richard Brautigan

6:06 pm  430 notes

“I loved you on this day. I love this memory.”

— Charlie Kaufman, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

6:05 pm  2,042 notes