a thousand paper cranes
would fight away all those demons
that leave scratches over your skin
just so that you know
that they don’t leave
through bloody trails.
I look at you and see all the ways
a soul can bruise, and I wish
I could sink my hands into your flesh
and light lanterns along your spine
so you know that there’s nothing
when I see you.
When the wind blows
all your candles out, when the stars
turn to plumes of smoke,
when your mother makes you watch
all the matches burn out in her eyes,
Let me hold your hand, your skin,
the stones you’ve swallowed in your sleep.
slip your soul out of your skin
so you can sleep in my palms
“I Love You The Distance Between Paris and New York,” Shinji Moon (via petrichour)
the line of your hip
becomes the brimming curve
of the wine goblet,
your breast is the grape cluster,
your nipples are the grapes,
the gleam of spirits lights your hair,
and your navel is a chaste seal
stamped on the vessel of your belly,
your love an inexhaustible
cascade of wine,
light that illuminates my senses,
the earthly splendor of life.
Pablo Neruda, Ode to Wine (via man-of-prose)
“Soon,” Pack Leader said.] “The Darkness is near.
Michael Grant, from Gone (via the-final-sentence)