#sk

As if you could pick in love, as if it were not a lightning bolt that splits your bones and leaves you staked out in the middle of the courtyard. (...) You don't pick out the rain that soaks you to the skin when you come out of a concert. ↗

— Julio Cortázar

#choice #love #rain #skin #soaked

He was a boy, she was a girl Can I make it any more obvious He was a punk, and she did ballet, What more can I say He wanted her, she wouldn't tell, but secretly she wanted him as well, All of her friends stuck up their nose, They didn't like his baggy clothes He was a sk8er boi, she said see you later boy, he wasn't good enough for her ↗

— Avril Lavigne

#love-story #sk #love

She was resolved to take the risk of being happy. ↗

— Guillaume Musso

#taking-risks #love

…he glanced over his shoulder at her, regarding her, as he often did before they made love, as if she were a lost continent about to be rediscovered. ↗

— Tom Robbins

#sex #skinny-legs-and-all #tom-robbins #love

Beer bottles, whiskey bottles, brown glass, green. They fell to the lawn and I'd feel serene. Adam was king to my stilted queen. ↗

— Kate Bernheimer

#drinking #love #poems #whiskey #love

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. ↗

— Chales Bukowski

#life #love #life

What do you love?" "You for doing this - you in general. Chocolate, sushi, malt shakes. All things I'm highly deficient in at the moment. Well, other than you." "What do you hate?" "Chloe and clowns. Come to think of it, Chloe is a clown. ↗

— Addison Moore

#skyla #toxic #love

This is my skin. This is not your skin, yet you are still under it. ↗

— Iain Thomas

#intimacy #love #skin #love

You know those nights where the day has unfolded in such a way that now, in the night, you can feel all the gaps in your body and you can see all the reasons you’re not who you wish you were - you know those nights where the only sound is of you drinking and the people outside who have each other to drink with - those nights when you’re unable to think or be or do because of the paralyzing loneliness - it feels like a hundred of those nights - stitched together and squared - and they come to me in a blush. ↗

— Stefan Golaszewski

#night #stefan-golaszewski #love

She is like the morning," he said. "With that golden hair, those blue eyes, and that fresh bloom on her cheek, she is like the summer morning. The birds here will mistake her for it. We will not call such a lovely young creature as that, who is a joy to all mankind, an orphan. She is the child of the universe. ↗

— Charles Dickens

#love