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i killed a plant once because i gave it too much water. lord, i worry that love is violence.

— José Olivarez, from “Getting Ready to Say I Love You to My Dad, It Rains,” Citizen Illegal

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A Hikers’ Paradise: Maroon Bells- Snowmass Wilderness [OC] 4032 X 3024 ✈

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Your flaws are perfect for the heart that is meant to love you.

Unknown (via flame)

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You get better every time you do something difficult. Your standards of difficulty rises and you will gradually improve.

My Professor (via attackonstudying)

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You can love a monster, it can even love you back, but that doesn’t change its nature.

Eliza Crewe, Crushed (via splitterherzen)

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our hearts are made of concrete and we are trying to hammer each other with words that can break it all apart our defense has turned into an offense and offense into defense maybe hurting each other is how we protect ourselves and maybe protecting ourselves means hurting the other

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if there is a light then i am going to swallow it. if there is a god then i’m going to make him cry.

s. osborn, from “blasphemies at the 5th street station,” published in The Rising Phoenix Review (via lifeinpoetry)

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     why is He like the wolf?

how is he not?  he is hunting, prowling  I don’t trust him by the gleam in his eyes and his teeth seem much too ready, sharpened along the bones of those  who were sweet, unsuspecting  while on a path in a forest that they  will never remember taking.  he is devious, can’t you see it in the way his haunches roll with each step? I have screamed stay back and I know  he hears, his ears much to good  to miss the sound of my heart beating  out of my chest and my breath leaving  my lungs in a rush faster than I’ll be able to run. his growl travels further than hope, don’t you hear it just behind your ear?  he is coming, running along a path of wet fallen leaves  and nothing will stop him from devouring  what he believes is his.

- why the wolf will never again be mistaken for a boy || O.L.

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i don’t need to apologize for existing.

nov 27, 2017

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Always, over and over, these days and nights will come, the anxiety, the aversion, the doubt. And I will still live, and I will still love life.

Hermann Hesse, from Wandering; “Rainy Weather” (via efidelity)

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And some days Writing is like Pulling out my bones Laying myself barer Than bare For everyone to see.

my words are the deepest part of me // a poem (via writerpoetstoryteller)

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You have a dark past Don’t taint her future with it

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And then here it comes, the agony of existing in a world where I have loved you, you almost loved me, but it was gone just a little too soon.

(via deadwatered)

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I don’t want to love less, I won’t simmer myself down. I want to love loud enough to recreate the big bang, passionately enough to make the stars dance.

(via deadwatered)

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I’m thinking of ways to mend my heart, to be as kind to myself as I am to others, to be so gentle, so loving, to be apologetic like the way I’ve been to those before me who have been so reckless. I need to love my heart the way she’s never been loved and touch my skin the way she’s never been touched. I’m sick of feeling scathed from the inside out, watching pieces of me fall off and become one with the earth, I can watch as I drift behind until I’m nothing, but I want to be something. I am something, someone, I just need to find her.

(via deadwatered)