February 2012
Today I realized I’m sort of in love, and also, that I’m being used…
And Sarah posting poetry doesn’t make things any better… so Im leaving.
Bye T
“My brother, come home from war, sits now for hours in the garden. I see now, he...”
– from Flower Bomb by Vuong Quoc Vu (via beardsbeerandliterarybadassery)
likeordinarylife:
When it’s over, I want to say: all my life I was a bride married to amazement. I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms. When it is over, I don’t want to wonder if I have made of my life something particular, and real. I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened, or full of argument. I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.
- Mary Oliver
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I don't mind the snow,
the dead grass, the lack of leaves or the overall grayness of it… but damn do I miss flowers. As in real, non plastic flowers, those that I can approach and stare at and occasionally smell…
There are flowers at the entrance of my house, I see them every morning and every night, and from time to time, cut to give to my mom. But here, in this winter of life, I have to no flowers to see,...
art-is-mentalsex replied to your photo: Veinticinco. by Adara . on Flickr.
Este ha sido como mi favorito de lo que hayas posteados. Wow.
Gracias!!!
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