Look At The Moon.

I’ve been working
on a disappearing act:

1. I’m going to turn myself into
words on paper —
everything I didn’t know
how to say, every
sentence that got
stuck in my throat.

2. Strike a match and
let it kiss
my paper body
made up of
my paper dreams.

3. I will
disintegrate back
into the universe
and carry myself
with the wind. I will
turn into a thousand pieces of
What Could Have Been; vanish
and become the smoke
that makes up
your hazy past.

4. You’re going to
lose sight of me and
you’re going to forget.
But I hope every once
in a while, when you watch
the sun set, you’ll
find me there.
A.Y // a disappearing act for a paper heart girl 
(via 2wentysixletters)

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One believes things because one has been conditioned to believe them.  Aldous Huxley, Brave New World (via scifi-fantasy-horror)
It’s not about the words. It’s about the memories lost inside the words. Virginia Woolf, from Selected Letters (via c-ovet)

(Source: violentwavesofemotion, via rustyvoices)

When you live in the dark for so long, you begin to love it. And it loves you back, and isn’t that the point? You think, the face turns to the shadows, and just as well. It accepts, it heals, it allows.



But it also devours.

Raymond Carver, Late Fragment.
(via mirroir)

(Source: wordsnquotes, via rustyvoices)