And he loves her. He loves her like he can never grab enough of her between his fingers. And no matter how close he gets, even when they make love, it never feels close enough.

Iain S. Thomas, Intentional Dissonance (via crazeist)

I won’t do you the dishonour of writing you in something that stains forever. I’ll follow your winding heart—its changing patterns—its constant going and un-going. I will write you in lead, in chalk, in breathy sighs.

Salma Deera, Writing (via writingwillows)