"

We lit our cigarettes off of each other’s. We were never meant to be, no. We had sex, but I could never let her touch me. She couldn’t have extracted my soul from all the places it was hiding. That’s okay. We were what we were, when we needed it.

She was out on my balcony, late one night. I was in the kitchen, when I sensed a change in energy. I walked out onto the balcony to find her sitting with a cigarette in her fingers, trembling with tears streaming down her cheeks.

I sat down in front of her, and said gently, “Come here, sweetheart.” She slid into my lap, and sobbed into my shoulder. I remember the exact feeling of her back beneath my fingertips, as I ran my fingers up and down her spine. My god, I held her, and for the first time in so long, I felt something in my heart that resembled softness. It was a heartbreaking, heartmaking feeling.

She melted my permafrost in that moment. I cared. Suddenly, I could feel tenderness again. That was a frozen ocean melting and surging to meet her. I owe my change in seasons to her. My summer finally returned.

"

- C; How Do You Take Your Coffee? (series)

(via aux-temps-perdus)

bluebug85:

These are pictures BEFORE - DURING - AFTER War. Notice in each that their faces look more alive during war but after it is like something is missing.

I wrote a poem and even posted it on here “Yes Freedom Is Never Free” and in it I used a line “The Boy Dies and the Warrior comes to Life” I even wrote that the warrior dies but I don’t think I truly captured that death. The death you see in each of their eyes. 

Thank you to each and every one of you for sacrificing so much. Thank you for sacrificing more than we truly ever knew. 
 

(via panda-propaganda)