We are so kind to everyone else but so cruel to ourselves.

Your words linger on when your presence doesn't.

No matter how trivial a thought is, a poem can be born from it.

You could tell me to go on just by loving me.

RT @Elfhood_: Coherence is the sound of nothing collapsing in the face of dissonance.

RT @shallowgreys: It’s just the moon baby.

RT @incharmuese: if you don’t believe in love.how do you live.

Not a day goes by when I don't think of what could have been when we still had time.

An exhaustion while chasing dreams that tastes like "I waited a long, long time for this".

The silence of our flame. And how it engulfs things we keep hidden but want them to be seen. An artic glaring flare with snow fox speed and wondrous hunger.

Pour words out of coffee cups, lit them on fire between eyes, gently deposit them on lips, and let their smoke fly.

Kiss me to sleep, my demons will find their crematorium.

The ending of us is together.

Gentler than the wings of a butterfly.

I want a river of you, the summer kind.

You don't remember the actual, precise event, you remember the memory of a memory of a memory. Every time you recall it, you just touch the latest copy of the chain. I wonder if the other copies are glimpses of what we write about when we feel lost.

RT @BashoSociety: flowers .blooming in the colors .of a watermelon. Basho.

RT @rottedwithin: My hands,.Older now. They tremble.yes,. but they still open.to hold what matters.

RT @shallowgreys: I noticed a few fresh shoots appeared on a little patch of dirt on which I scattered a few seeds.I shall read stories and….

The rain.still dripping.off tiny leaves.of memories.

I am allowed to be a wreck, a wreckage, a brand new definition of chaos. There is a lot of space, time to be unfolded, in this universe of thoughts and I do not necessarily seek a way out.