A voice carried by the moon
If ever we love again
Drowned by the wind
The winter sun, now stepping down, would look no longer upon our trails.
We set out at morning and under many suns we journey’d north until, at last, we came upon a pass. Familiar, though I could not say where it led.
She turned back south. “For home,” she said, she’d journey’d far too long and left another to wait.
Oh, death, I don’t want to be a bother. I’ll just shuffle on over into this corner.
Her fleeting heart
If you can love someone with your whole heart, even one person, then there’s salvation in life. Even if you can’t get together with that person. — Haruki Murakami, 1Q84 (via bookmania)
Next to the chalk outline, written in blood: I stopped running from the things I feared.
His hands were cold when he tried to wipe the tears from my cheeks. The shock only made me cry more.