໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა𓈒⋆⑅˚₊
90 posts
Bambiwony - Love - Tumblr Blog
in the land if gods and monsters i was an angel ʚɞ
⊹˚. ౨ৎ
when I'm sad I get so fucking poetic
she gave me her cherry
she’s my virgin suicide
Gavin Yuan Gao, from "Wild Nothing"
— Benjamin Alire Sáenz, “To the Desert” from Dark and Perfect (El Paso: Cinco Puntos Press, 1995) (via lunamonchtuna)
you are my heaven, my eden, my quiet. you know me like i've never been known. i will look to you forever, and look at others through the lessons and love you've taught me.
be a girl who isn’t afraid to fill her cup first. metaphorically but also literally. stay hydrated bitch.
The true blasphemy of literature is the romanticization of romance. They make it beautiful—all soft words, and elegant lines—and enchanting, with magic sparkling in the margins.
And you can feel it in the depths of your soul, an unexplored ocean of laughter and tears and dreams all melded together.
The yearning of a kiss that brushes against the steady and so so warm pulsing beat of life—against the smooth skin of a lovers neck. The desperation to touch another being and feel that they’re alive, right there next to you—right there, and never leaving.
To love and be loved is a jewel among treasures and all that we each seek—all that we each desire.
It burns and it burns and it burns.
“I would know him in death, at the end of the world.”
“Come home and break my heart, if you must.”
“Occasionally, Fate pulls itself together again and Time is always waiting.”
“And perhaps it is the greatest grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone.”
“By you, I am forever undone.”
“One word from you shall silence me forever.”
“A heart’s a heavy burden.”
“My sweet nemesis.”
“If you have to go, you know I will go with you.”
and then?
and then.
The book is over.
And you remember that love like that doesn't exist.
Not in the real world.
And all you can do is cry.
“I, with my romantic need and longing,”
— Susan Sontag, from a journal entry featured in Reborn: Journals & Notebooks (1947-1963)
What kind of writer am I? With all this love and no words for it?
— Anne Sexton, Anne Sexton: A Self-Portrait in Letters
“…I like simple things, books, being alone, or with somebody who understands.”
— Daphne du Maurier, “The Lover” (via moaka)
Custom engraved silver necklace by Silberwerk, commissioned by me- words from Belovéd by Yves Olade
i could sparkle up your eye ⋆ ˚｡⋆ ౨ৎ ˚
𝜗𝜚
♡𐬾︎✧𖧐𐬿
Ultraviolence ₊˚.𖥔 ݁ ˖
lady lana del rey
