Your gateway to endless inspiration
Did I crossed the line?
They were wrong, love is never enough to keep someone with you.
Charles Bukowski, The People Look Like Flowers at Last: New Poems
Charles Bukowski, Tales of Ordinary Madness
— Edna St. Vincent Millay, from a letter to Arthur Davison Ficke
So all of it will heal one day or I will just get used to it?
-Yanyi, from Dream of the Divided Field: Poems; “The Friend”
-Ocean Vuong, from “Eurydice”, Night Sky with Exit Wounds
But who I was before I met you?
IT'S SEPTEMBER already, how can i hold my own heart.
-Sylvia Plath, The Letters of Sylvia Plath Volume I: 1940–1956
-Anne Carson, from The Glass Essay
-Isabel Allende, The House of the Spirits
Charles Bukowski, "legs, hips and behind," from What Matters Most is How Well You Walk through the Fire
-Christina Rossetti, from "Echo", The Complete Poems
-Charles Bukowski, "cancer," from Come On In!
— Sylvia Plath, "The Bell Jar"
—Haruki Murakami, 1Q84
In all the colours I expected love to be, it was not what I got . I thought love will be the dawn colours. The warmness of orange that at the end of the day being with your lover will ease the scars , the calmness of blue that doesn't matter how complicated the situation is we will get over it , the assurance of lavender that it will all heal, the sweetness of pink that no matter what love will make everything right and even the yellow that doesn't matter what at the end love will win, but for me love was the colour of silver. Too shinny and perfect from afar but from close it was the colour no one will choose. The colour of coldness, the colour which will left you numb. The colour which will leave you in the state of being non-committal.