latenightcornerstore:

They told us our imaginations were endless
That we were bound by
Nothing 
But imaginary false stops.
That we had galaxies inside us
And that with the stardust in our lungs,
We could breathe life into silence.
We were small gods
We bore crayons and fingerpaints
We made our Mona Lisas 
In sidewalk chalk and window paints
We were unashamed of our failures
Because they were magnificent
Just 
Like 
Us.
We forgot
As we got older
About the constellations between our ribs.
Destinies gave way to deadlines.
Astronomies to anxieties.
We forgot how to look for them
But they didn’t disappear
And however afraid you feel
However lost, however lonely
When the words shudder short and the paint dries out—
Sometimes you laugh
And I still catch sight of the moon on your tongue.

— You Haven’t Forgotten, You’ve Forgotten How, by Ashe Vernon

latenightcornerstore:

They told us our imaginations were endless
That we were bound by
Nothing 
But imaginary false stops.
That we had galaxies inside us
And that with the stardust in our lungs,
We could breathe life into silence.
We were small gods
We bore crayons and fingerpaints
We made our Mona Lisas 
In sidewalk chalk and window paints
We were unashamed of our failures
Because they were magnificent
Just 
Like 
Us.
We forgot
As we got older
About the constellations between our ribs.
Destinies gave way to deadlines.
Astronomies to anxieties.
We forgot how to look for them
But they didn’t disappear
And however afraid you feel
However lost, however lonely
When the words shudder short and the paint dries out—
Sometimes you laugh
And I still catch sight of the moon on your tongue.

— You Haven’t Forgotten, You’ve Forgotten How, by Ashe Vernon

"You are the lipstick stains
In colors I could never wear
Left on the brims of mugs I haven’t touched
Since you left.
You are the way I avoid certain parts of the apartment
Because sunset in the living room
Is too much like midnight in the kitchen
Is too much like mornings tangled together on your side of the bed.
You are the cigarette butts I didn’t smoke
Still sitting in the ashtray on the patio.
You are the way the stair rail still creaks because
“I’ll fix it next week, I promise.”
You are every “next week” that never happened
Piled so high, I can’t fit anymore “would-be"s
Into the shelf space in my closet.
I am riding on fumes–
The way the corner of the couch still
Smells likes you, if I close my eyes
And want it bad enough.
The way I sometimes turn on the TV
To your favorite channel
And forget it wasn’t you who left it there.
You are the reason I keep falling asleep
At my desk in the office
Because my side of the bed feels too empty
Without you breathing there beside me."

You Are the Ghosts in My Window, by Ashe Vernon (via latenightcornerstore)

loveinspireuniversally:

If you’re scrolling through tumblr trying to distract yourself from something you don’t want to think about or you’re looking for a sign that everything will be okay, this is it. So, breathe. Relax into this moment. You’re alive & that’s all that matters.

(Source: samxcamargo)

svindel

(Source: artmonia)

aestheticgoddess:

Venere Dopo Botticelli
Andy Warhol, 1966

lilithsplace:

‘Among waves’, 1898 - Ivan Aivazovsky (1817–1900)

(Source: hasantayyar)

"A volte penso che la notte sia più viva e più ricca di colori del giorno."

Vincent Van Gogh (via anormalguywithabnormalmind)

(Source: doninagalina)

speaks:

Iridesence in clouds over Gran Paradiso National Park, Italy by Piero Armando

(Source: weheartit.com)

(Source: melisica)