Talk To A Real Person By Stephen Shore

″One was a book thief. The other stole the sky.“

- Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

I am fueled by foggy mornings, moonlight, and starry skies.

Di Drago (via exospecies)

my grandparents film from Italy 🌥

You’re standing in a room you used to know so well, a hand on the doorframe when it starts. The walls blur and your shirt’s off; there’s a hand reaching for your waist. Almost an invitation. Almost something more. How many times has this body been almost touched? The world rights itself and you’re past the first exhibit. You move inside, past the books, the poems, the lists you almost finished. You’re sitting on the edge of a bed when it hits you again: a mouth on your mouth, a hand on your thigh. Almost an argument. Almost a mistake. You could call this the exhibit of personal significance. You move toward the window, making note of the sideshows playing out around you. The time you almost saw the streets of Spain. All the nights you almost saw the sun rise. All the times you almost reached out to someone but didn’t. Your mind’s moving someplace else now, to a series of snapshots. Eyes in different colors, blurry faces thrown back in laughter, hands poised around drawing pencils. Freckles on shoulder caps, tattoos in small corners of the body. Tell me, how many people have you almost loved?  Call this the art gallery. Call this the main attraction.

Kelsey Danielle, “Call Me a Series of Almosts” (via pigmenting)

The Darkest Truth About Love from Hannah Jacobs

I’ve finally accepted that maybe we just weren’t meant to be

Day 205 (via myonlywayoutofhere)

An excerpt from the poem Happy Poem by Sean Glatch (@7-weeks​); featured in his debut poetry collection 4:41 | buy it here!