I will remember your small room, the feel of you, the light in the window, your records, your books, our morning coffee, our noons, our nights, our bodies spilled together, sleeping, the tiny flowing currents, immediate and forever. Your leg, my leg, your arm, my arm, your smile and the warmth of you who made me laugh again.
— Charles Bukowski
She was like the moon—part of her was always hidden away.
— Bleeding Violet by Dia Reeves (via lostinthesounds)
