“Don't be in a hurry to love me. Don't spill all your love on me so quickly, because hurried loves leak through the fingers to the ground. They sweeten beyond what we can bear and make us sick, craving a pinch of salt. So if you're going to love me anyway, love me slowly. Love me in detail, in consistency, just a little bit every day, and for the rest of our lives.”

— Letters to my last love.

solitudedemaudit

I think I'm falling in love with this blog <3 Its contents and the quality of these pieces are just perfect. Please keep it going.

Source: oblitarum

hearthearthheart26

strawberrystepmom-deactivated20

im literally just an old lady muttering to herself on the porch

hearthearthheart26

theskeletonprior

There is something so beautiful about reaching out to the monstrous with intent to touch it gently. To risk the sharp teeth and the lethal claws, to defy fear and revulsion, and choose to be delicate with something that can be, and often is, incredibly brutal.

hearthearthheart26

fossilnet

hearthearthheart26

I love her to the point of heartache

hearthearthheart26

I thought wanting was enough for me but its not. Its hard to watch her with someone else that is not me. Its hard that i cant have the freedom to express my feelings whenever i miss her or when i want her to be with me. I crave her but she isnt mine so i cant ask for more. I miss her i miss her i miss her i miss her i miss her. Your the only good thing in my life.

hearthearthheart26

letsbelonelytogetherr

“In a parallel universe or another world or a different life, we sit across from each other at the kitchen table and go over the grocery list.”

— Margaret Atwood

hearthearthheart26

bfbkg

kafk-a

Jenny Slate, Little Weirds

hearthearthheart26

onecompletecycle

heavensghost

from Autopsy by Donte Collins

hearthearthheart26

thoughtkick

“Sometimes you put up walls – not to keep people out, but to see who cares enough to break them down.”

— Socrates

hearthearthheart26

I wish she would let me love her and let herself love me

hearthearthheart26

“I have dreamed of you so often, you are no longer real.”

— Dean Young, from “Robert Desnos (1900-1945),” in Bender: New and Selected Poems (Copper Canyon Press, 2012)

hearthearthheart26

Home

hearthearthheart26

Im so tired and depressed and disgusted and confused

frog city part 2: frog suburb

[image description: a watercolor painting of an underwater forest comprised of lily pads on long stalks, painted in greens, oranges, and yellows. below, in the long grass of the forest floor, sit two boxy houses. their windows are lit up from within, and their white siding is dappled with sunlight and shadows from the lily pads above them. large frogs are visible silhouetted against several of the lily pads. /end i.d.]