❝ Poems are never just poems. They’re compensating for something. Here are the words I wish I had written in crescent-moon bite marks down your neck. Here are a hundred words for “stay,” and a hundred more for “please.” Here is how I hold a pen. Here is how the pen holds me. Here are my thoughts, over-steeped in empty fervor. Here is nothing and everything all at the same time. ❞
Fragment 5, Kristina Kutateladze (via neongospel)
❝ You’d be surprised at what you’d do to stay alive. ❞
Brent Weeks, The Way of Shadows (via hawtvintage)

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