"The air moving around you sometimes smells like beeswax and empty theatres."
(i met the most lovely girl yesterday* a girl who travels the way i love to, to places i dream of. she wears pale copper lipstick and observes "exceptionally green" trees as intently as i do...)
"My nights have been myriads of shattered chords; long-lasting like the departing steps of lovers. And in such moonshades, every poem turns to aurora borealis enveloping never-weres."
"Every time your hands are quiescent, resting away their poems, I imagine all the things they've touched, and how I'd like their echoes to stay still against my cheekbones, forever. Tree bark, washed out ink, bookshop-doors, guitar strings, white pillows, snowflakes, dust. Everything your hands have ever touched."
-writings via restlesshearts