pinksubmergence: he is the scent of an imminent thunderstorm; swirling, a warm sigh before the absolute disposal of the heavens.
Writing is utter solitude, the descent into the cold abyss of oneself.– Franz Kafka (via pavorst)
ohmyearth: I miss you. I miss you in parts, I miss you whole. I miss you in silver, I miss you in gold.
blankpagesandinvisibleink: i don’t want you to need me. i don’t even want you to miss me, anymore. but you said once that we were a novel, so i want to know this. have you started writing our story yet? and if so, can you tell me how it ends?
As your hair spilled down and came to rest on my chest, I could hear you...– Daily Haiku on Love by Tyler Knott Gregson (via tylerknott)
I Once Dated A Writer and
ofheightsandhollows: Writers are forgetful, but they remember everything. They forget appointments and anniversaries, but remember what you wore, how you smelled, on your first date… They remember every story you’ve ever told them - like ever, but forget what you’ve just said. They don’t remember to water the plants or take out the trash, but they don’t forget how to make you laugh. ...