Maybe poems are made of breath, the way water,
cajoled to boil, says, This is my soul, freed.

Dean Young, from “Scarecrow on Fire” (via proustitute)
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A story is like a moving train: no matter where you hop onboard, you are bound to reach your destination sooner or later.

Khaled Hosseini, And The Mountains Echoed (via bookmania)
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Fluorescent Adolescent

Arctic Monkeys
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My mom taught me something about relationships when I was growing up. She told me to never be the one to love the other person more. I always thought that was odd. That was until I saw how my mom loved my dad more and let him leave bruises on her skin. That was until I found my best friend drunk, bleeding on her bathroom floor, because the boy she loved more broke her heart and left. That’s why when I start to fall I catch myself. I don’t want to be the one to love more because I’ve seen what that does to people. Oh, but god do I love you more.

silly little me (via merokok)
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