pls drink a lot of wine and be extraordinarily well read and buy too much perfume and write a few too many love letters and spread affection and poetry wherever you go
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i wish i could form words to explain to you how much you mean to me; how much i love you
“You know full well that I’m the heaven’s full moon,”
— Wallada, tr. by A.R. Nykl, from “If You Were Just in Keeping our Pact of Love,” (via poetic–rose)
where does this need to overshare come from…. why am I like this…. why can’t I be mysterious
some angels are elegant and graceful in their every move. some angels radiate divinity and have a hum of heaven beneath their every word.
some angels are clumsy and dreamy. some angels appear soft and offer a gaze kinder than youve ever seen.
Imagine working in a local village bakery and you’re part of a book club with the library full of elderly ladies who have interesting stories to tell, and you spend your days delivering bread loaves to them, writing stories and eating apples from the tree that grows outside your window and you cycle around with a book and a flask of tea in your basket, always ready to stop under a nice tree and read