Books are like seeds. They can lie dormant for centuries and then flower in the most unpromising soil.
Carl Sagan, Cosmos (via observando)
I love the rain. I love how it softens the outlines of things. The world becomes softly blurred, and I feel like I melt right into it.
He kisses me as if
his lips are in fervent prayer,
yearning for some absolution
lingering in my mouth as he seeks out
its every crevice with a velvet tongue, smooth
and soft, like a whisper barely breaching the silence.
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