não se fira por quem não te cicatriza.
That night when you kissed me, I left a poem in your mouth, and you can hear some of the lines every time you breathe out.— Andrea Gibson (via writeswithafist)
My dear,— Charles Bukowski (via all-the-ways-things-are)
Find what you love and let it kill you.
Let it drain you of your all.
Let it cling onto your back and weigh you down into eventual nothingness.
Let it kill you and let it devour your remains.
For all things will kill you, both slowly and fastly, but it’s much better to be killed by a lover.