Everything I’ve ever let go of had claw marks on it.
David Foster Wallace (via cosmickxtten)

beautifulsouthasianbrides:

Images byFresh Wedding Photos

"A Beautiful Indian and Jamaican Interracial Wedding"

If it is right, it happens — The main thing is not to hurry. Nothing good gets away.
John Steinbeck, born on this day in 1902, on falling in love in a magnificent letter of advice to his teenage son. (via h-o-r-n-g-r-y)
Baby, I’m gonna find you.

Baby, I’m gonna find you.


Oh Christ I just wanted you to fuck meand then I became greedy,I wanted you to love me 

Oh Christ I just wanted you to fuck me
and then I became greedy,
I wanted you to love me 

aseaofquotes:

Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude
Submitted by whenling.

aseaofquotes:

Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

Submitted by .

You are not brave because you said no, or brave because you ran away, or because you looked love in the face and said “not today.” There is nothing courageous about the way you left me, open handed, palms outwards, waiting. I was standing at your door and I was saying “I will take you as you are if you will do the same for me.” You didn’t know how to. No one had taught you that wanting someone desperately is like sliding out of your clothes and out of your skin and laying yourself at their feet. All skin and no walls. All soul and no teeth, no metal, no keys. No one had shown you how lovely vulnerability can be. How proud it is to be naked in front of someone. Fully clothed, naked. Arms full of heart. Heart full of rain. Body like an olive branch, I am telling you that I love you today. I am telling you that I am not scared to be fragile in front of you. I am telling you that I trust you to look after my gentle. Keep it safe, don’t keep it hidden. They say that giving your name to someone is giving them power over you. I wrote my name on your wrists. I wrote it in your mouth. Whispered it into your ear. I said “here, this is who I am, do what you will with it. I am not scared. I am not frightened.” Even then, even after that, in that quiet rain filled room I watched you stitch yourself back up again and turn away, I watched you do it without me. I kept my hands open anyway, just in case. Here, the mattress is asking you what you’re doing. Here, the walls have known how you sound when you murmur my name. Here, everything is wondering where your brave is. Where has your courage gone? Where is your wolf? I know that you can feel in colours that haven’t been invented yet. I know that you’re trembling beneath your soldier body. I would have loved you enough for the both of us. Until then, I will run through the streets after dark holding a sign that says ‘I SURVIVED LOVING A MAN WHO DID NOT KNOW HOW TO LOVE ME BACK AND IT WAS GLORIOUS.’
Azra.T “not leaving your heart wide open was the most cowardly thing you’ll ever do”  (via 5000letters)
throneofroses:
Brown girl,
love the limb
and length of you:
your stone back, and
bullet mouth, your satin hips
and thick knuckles;
do not apologize for this
or open your hands
to beg forgiveness for your own
blood and bones.
Do not fix your mouth to say
that you are anything less
than everything. Say
that you are every possible
definition of beauty
and power. Say
you are the perfect
natural disaster.
Sasha Banks, “Dear brown girl,” published in Alight (via bostonpoetryslam)