if you will,
my dear
I will not tire
of you.
You can leave
me
if you wish,
my love
But
I’m not
going
anywhere." - Keaton Henson, from 10 a.m, Gare Du Nord
Just pour yourself a cup of coffee
Leave anytime, you don’t have to be right
You’ve gotta live the best you know how
And if you love, well that should be enough
Instead it turns your joy into sorrow
And I can’t breath, with the dust of retreat
I’m choking on the fumes of my wayward back
And when we kissed, it didn’t feel poisonous
And when you cried, I dried off your blue eyes
She smiles at me, as she is falling asleep
Says, “We gotta live the best we know how to." - “A Sea Chanty Of Sorts”, Margot and the Nuclear So and So’s (via handcraftedinvirginia)
(via coffeemaps)
Do it right here in my bed as I sleep.
If you must mourn, my love
Mourn with the moon and the stars above.
And if you must mourn
Don’t do it alone.
And if you must leave
Leave as though fire burns under your feet.
And if you must speak
Speak every word as if it were unique.
If you must fight
Fight with yourself and your thoughts in the night.
And if you must work
Work to leave some part of you on this earth.
And if you must die, sweetheart
Die knowing your life was my life’s best part." - Keaton Henson, You
Things change
You live your life for the stage
Til your kidney floats away
Thrown in a car accident.
A time for art
A time for living
Sometimes the two can be conflicting.
" - Chinawoman, Russian BallerinaI’ll be seeing you
In all the old familiar places
That this heart of mine embraces
All day through.
In that small cafe;
The park across the way;
The children’s carousel;
The chestnut trees;
The wishin’ well.
I’ll be looking at the moon,
But I’ll be seeing you.
Miss you terribly already,
Miss the space between your eyelids,
where I’d stare through awkward sentences
and avoid through awkward silence
Miss your teeth when they chatter,
when we smoked out in my garden
When we couldn’t sleep for all the heat,
soft talk began to harden.
Miss your teeth dug in my shoulder,
as we rolled in early morning,
Miss your arm dying beneath me,
as I lay there simply yawning.
you know there’s still a place for people like us
the same blood runs in every hand
you see it’s not the wings that make the angel
just have to move the bats out of your head
A day of pale skies and a real kiss
Inside an old house
By the seaside you can take off my blouse" - Love Letter, Lisa Mitchell (via rabbits-foot)
Well I’ve lost it all, I’m just a silhouette,
A lifeless face that you’ll soon forget.
You’re giving me such sweet nothing
