let the rain
wash away
all the pain of yesterday

leaving is not enough; you must
stay gone. train your heart
like a dog. change the locks
even on the house he’s never
visited. you lucky, lucky girl.
you have an apartment
just your size. a bathtub
full of tea. a heart the size
of Arizona, but not nearly
so arid. don’t wish away
your cracked past, your
crooked toes, your problems
are papier mache puppets
you made or bought because the vendor
at the market was so compelling you just
had to have them. you had to have him.
and you did. and now you pull down
the bridge between your houses.
you make him call before
he visits. you take a lover
for granted, you take
a lover who looks at you
like maybe you are magic. make
the first bottle you consume
in this place a relic. place it
on whatever altar you fashion
with a knife and five cranberries.
don’t lose too much weight.
stupid girls are always trying
to disappear as revenge. and you
are not stupid. you loved a man
with more hands than a parade
of beggars, and here you stand. heart
like a four-poster bed. heart like a canvas.
heart leaking something so strong
they can smell it in the street.

vintageanchorbooks:

Celebrate Banned Books Week by reading a banned book.


Guy:  
What do girls do at sleepovers?

Me:  
Pass the Bechdel test.

Everyone thinks of [fairy tales] in terms of poisoned apples and glass coffins, and forgets that they represent girls who walked into dark forests and remade them into their own reflections.

wnderlst:

Lake Louise, Canada | Jim Ding

edithsprior:

"Drink up. Whisky is God’s way of telling us he loves us and wants us to be happy."

tangledaxon:

staceythinx:

Orbital Mechanics by Tatiana Plakhova 

This is breathtaking.

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.

The darkness drops again but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

W.B. Yeats, “The Second Coming.”

I find myself thinking about Yeats’ “rough beast” a lot of late. Yeats thought a shared apocalypse was nigh. But it seems to the beast comes for us one at a time.

(via fishingboatproceeds)

the first poem I ever loved.

(via maggie-stiefvater)

Animal (Neon Trees Cover) by Secondhand Serenade
on Weightless EP
2,433 plays

miqraines:

Secondhand Serenade - Animal (Neon Trees cover)

unsuccessfulmetalbenders:

if u think that there has ever been a greater scene on television think again

notabuddhist:

— little mix, counting stars/holy grail/smells like teen spirit