She’s the rising smoke
after you blow a candle out,
twenty-two seconds of sunlight
when the sky’s full of clouds.
She’s the dream you have, so vivid,
you question if it really happened.
She’s the small part of you
that still believes in magic.
She’s a dizzy kind of comfort
that you never thought you’d feel.
She’s life after you recover,
all the ways in which you heal.

Kayla Kathawa (via ninakathawa)
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If it’s something serious then hit me up but until then the door is shut, forget my room.
And if I had a match for every lie and every attempt to deny, I’d strike a few.

The Story So Far; Navy Blue (via pain-nuts)
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Ignorance

Paramore
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You remember too much,
my mother said to me recently.

Why hold onto all that? And I said,
Where can I put it down?

Anne Carson, excerpt from “The Glass Essay” (via larmoyante)
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