petaltexturedskies:

What did my fingers do before they held him?

What did my heart do, with its love?

Sylvia Plath, from three women: a poem for three voices (1962)

etherea1ity:

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so many worlds to see through the window

(via)

inactive-339944:

the concept of vinyl records will never cease to amaze me like they put SOUND in there!!!!!!! what the hell and fuck

falcvns:

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in conclusion, i am dead

"

How do the bruises manage to hurt years after they were inflicted?

I continuously stumble into new layers of agony, unsure of whether I will ever resurface.

"

Noor Shirazie, Into the Wildfire: Mourning Departures (via noorshirazie)