Our bodies flicker

Toward extinction

by Sylvia Plath, “Sculptor,” from The Selected Poems 

(Source: lifeinpoetry, via starmaps)

" if you consider a woman
less pure after you’ve touched her
maybe you should take a look at your hands
by (via lulu-a)

(Source: anachronica, via mindoftheunkind)

" Vouloir, c’est pouvoir. "
by the french
" If I breathe you in and you breathe me out, I swear we can breathe forever. I swear I’ll find summer in your winter and spring in your autumn and always, hands at the ends of your fingers, arms at the ends of your shoulders and I swear, when we run out of forever, when we run out of air, your name will be the last word that my lungs make air for. "
by Iain S. Thomas (via purplebuddhaproject)

(via purplebuddhaproject)