an aesthetic: 1940s elegant lady owning the exotic flower shop at the corner of the street, red lipstick always perfectly on point, probably either a witch, a spy or a time traveller, definitely a lesbian
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It’s good that he’s gone,
but don’t let him be too gone.
He’s got to be candle blown out
in the other room gone.
Or exhaust pipe
huffing down the block gone.
Not closure-gone. Not someone-else’s-
baby-gone. Not cut your hair gone.
He can’t ever be too far
away to hurt you, honey.
Megan Falley, “Lana Del Rey Intervenes When She Notices I’ve Stopped Writing About My Ex,” published in Rattle (via bostonpoetryslam)
She looked like, if you bit her, milk and honey would flow from her.
Franz Kline (via funeralfaerie)
neurotypical person: listen i know you’re mentally ill but why are you mentally ill
“we understand you are depressed, honey, but why are you also apathetic, lazy, lacking motivation, easily angered, and constantly spending whole days in bed not doing anything?”
“You just have to push through the depression.”
I’ve been doing that for years. That kind of sentiment is why I’m in this deep pit of emotional desperation.
I love the rain. I love how it softens the outlines of things. The world becomes softly blurred, and I feel like I melt right into it.
Hanamoto Hagumi, Honey and Clover (via wordsnquotes)
Always wear your mind like a crown, it’s the greatest weapon.
Honey Jumalon (via 90skidvagabond)
Like a snake, my heart
has shed its skin.
I hold it here in my hand,
full of honey and wounds.
Federico García Lorca, Corazón Nuevo (via provst)
“show me your face
i crave
flowers and gardens
open your lips
i crave
the taste of honey”
– Rumi, excerpt of How Long (tr. by Nader Khalili)