When you decide to die, little things begin to happen. You stop looking both ways before you cross the street, you start answering the door without asking who’s there. You don’t hold onto the railing when you go down the escalator, you play with matches. You smoke, and breathe it in, actually praying it will make a difference. Deciding to die is actually almost nice, in a way. You stop caring. Even if you are not pro-actively looking for ways to kill yourself, you stop looking for ways to survive.

(via felicefawn)

(Source: choke97, via empresswuofthetangclan)

Good Morning Bruises

babyheroin:

None of your lovers are going to attend your funeral.
You spent too much time writing poetry about them,
and not enough kissing their black and blue stomachs
good morning. As they pinched the fat on their stomachs,
you compared their eyes to oceans that you’d never bathed
in. While they were lost inside of their own skeletons, you
spit out sonnets on the pillow. Remember this, you and I
will both die in the end, and none of this is going to matter.
Love better than you write.

(Source: adoenamedjane, via empresswuofthetangclan)

What cannot be said will be wept.

Sappho (via 13thmoon)

(Source: whatsmacksaid, via empresswuofthetangclan)