"There are a million important things to do. But none as important as lying here next to you."
"The way your body smells after two days, the taste of the back of your teeth and other places most will never find their tongues, the perfect sour of your breath after a too-long night that lasted just the perfect amount of time. I imagine the static that forms in my stomach and courses through every capillary whenever you brush against me accidentally and the texture of your favorite sweater and the militant veins that protrude from your arms like they’re dying to be noticed, touched. When I think about these things — the symphony of color in your eyes and what might be happening behind them — I know they haven’t got us completely figured out. I know that some things belong to only us."
Stephanie Georgopulos, I’m Tired Of Reading About Us (via handcraftedinvirginia)
(via leon-lyone)
(Source: serialstranger)
"To him she seemed so beautiful, so seductive, so different from ordinary people, that he could not understand why no one was as disturbed as he by the clicking of her heels on the paving stones, why no one else’s heart was wild with the breeze stirred by the sighs of her veils, why everyone did not go mad with the movements of her braid, the flight of her hands, the gold of her laughter. He had not missed a single one of her gestures, not one of the indications of her character, but he did not dare approach her for fear of destroying the spell."
Gabriel García Márquez, Love in the Time of Cholera
(via gaws)
"You were gone before it even sank in that you were here. I should have hugged you at least four more times."
(via anditslove)
"Until you are no longer the pictures that chase me down a flight of screens each night. Until the part of me that you first touched, forgets."
"
All I ever wanted you to do was feel this feeling. Be this way. Exhale the sky.
All you ever did was feel different. Be away. Wash your hands with air.
All I love is a feeling. I still feel this way. I cannot breathe.
I still forget there’s air out there.
I still forget how white hot everything was.
I still forget myself.
There’s nothing wrong with this.
There’s nothing true about this.
There’s nothing.
You were once everything I felt.
You were once everything.
You were, once.
And if love moves like air, then teach me how to dig my nails into the palm of my hand so I can remember what you once felt like.
"(Source: AshleyAyres, via ronenreblogs)
"
And in the beginning, my lungs had too much air in them, whenever you were near, like I could never breathe out enough.
And in the end, my throat closed, whenever you were far, like I could never breathe in again.
"