If I had! If you had! Such words and ifs are vain.
“
| — | J. R. R. Tolkien, The Return of the King (via poetrist) |
If the boy who draws
lets you look over his shoulder.
If the poet
smiles
and shows you her words.
If the girl who sings for the shower only,
hums a song
in front of you.
Know that you’re no longer a person
but the air
and dust
that fill their lungs.
When the world perishes,
and all things cease to exist,
you’ll remain inside an ink stain,
a paint brush,
a song.
lets you look over his shoulder.
If the poet
smiles
and shows you her words.
If the girl who sings for the shower only,
hums a song
in front of you.
Know that you’re no longer a person
but the air
and dust
that fill their lungs.
When the world perishes,
and all things cease to exist,
you’ll remain inside an ink stain,
a paint brush,
a song.
“
| — | Alaska Gold, “Poem N.8” [proofread] (via poetrist) |
Acceptance is a small, quiet room.
“
| — | Cheryl Strayed, Tiny Beautiful Things: Advice on Love and Life from Dear Sugar (via poetrist) |
She was made for untidy rooms and rumpled beds.
“
| — | Alexander McCall Smith, The Sunday Philosophy Club (via poetrist) |
