I’m jealous of the moon
that kisses you too soon.
Like the feel of your lips
on the 26th of June.
I’m jealous of the stars
that know where you are.
Yet I’m too far.
And all that’s left
is your scar.
| — | (the-wild-rxse) // Scar (via wordsnquotes) |
He loved her, he loved her, and until he’d loved her she had never minded being alone.
| — | Truman Capote, Summer Crossing (via books-n-quotes) |
My mom once said “you don’t show love through words”
