Her sentences were icebergs, with just the tip of her thought coming out of her mouth, and the rest kept up in her head, which I was starting to think was more and more beautiful the longer I looked at her.
Plant your own garden and decorate your own soul, instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.
― Veronica A. Shoffstall, “After a While,” 1971 (via blua)
I want to rip off your logic and make passionate sense to you. I want to ride in the swing of your hips. My fingers will dig in you like quotation marks, blazing your limbs into parts of speech.