“Wait until it is night before saying that it has been a fine day.”
French Proverb

You lose your love for her and then
It is her who is lost,
And then it is both who are lost,
And nothing is ever as perfect as you want it to be.

In a very ordinary world
A most extraordinary pain mingles with the small routines,
The loss seems huge and yet
Nothing can be pinned down or fully explained.

You are afraid.
If you found the perfect love
It would scald your hands,
Rip the skin from your nerves,
Cause havoc with a computered heart.

You lose your love for her and then it is her who is lost.
You tried not to hurt and yet
Everything you touched became a wound.
You tried to mend what cannot be mended,
You tried, neither foolish nor clumsy,
To rescue what cannot be rescued.

You failed,
And now she is elsewhere
And her night and your night
Are both utterly drained.

How easy it would be
If love could be brought home like a lost kitten
Or gathered in like strawberries,
How lovely it would be;
But nothing is ever as perfect as you want it to be.

Brian Patten

annehathawillannehathaway:

"are you wearing the-"

"the chanel boots? yeah i am"

(via pagingme)

“Life isn’t like a book. Life isn’t logical or sensible or orderly. Life is a mess most of the time. And theology must be lived in the midst of that mess.”
— Charles Caleb Colton
“I still feel that poetry is not medicine — it’s an X-ray. It helps you see the wound and understand it.”
— Dunya Mikhail

(via ifuckwiththestars)

“Heavy, melancholy people grow lighter through precisely that which makes others heavy, through hatred and love, and for a while they rise to their surface.”
— Friedrich Nietzsche, "Maxims and Interludes", Beyond Good and Evil 

(via whyallcaps)

“And now I’m looking at you,” he said, “and you’re asking me if I still want you, as if I could stop loving you. As if I would want to give up the thing that makes me stronger than anything else ever has. I never dared give much of myself to anyone before but, since the first time I saw you, I have belonged to you completely. I still do. If you want me.”
Cassandra Clare - The Mortal Instruments