Literal Hearts In My Eyes
  • ARTIST: Mary Lambert
  • SONG: Jessie's Girl
  • ALBUM: Heart On My Sleeve (Deluxe Edition)
  • 350,884 plays
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theladymonsters:

in which a gay cover of one of america’s most quintessential modern american love songs is a thing that exists

55,398 notes
  • spring: sad
  • summer: sad
  • winter: sad
  • fall: sad but cinnamon
26,893 notes
  • ARTIST: Jackie Wilson
  • SONG: (Your Love Keeps Lifting Me) Higher And Higher
  • 491 plays
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theswinginsixties:

Jackie Wilson — (Your Love Keeps Lifting Me) Higher and Higher - 1967

(Source: classicrockneverdies)

767 notes
Stepping into the void at #commonground in Lansing.

Stepping into the void at #commonground in Lansing.

siriuslikesboys:

ok but dead poets society remake with an all female cast

15,459 notes
conyfera:

You turn to me, i see eternity #brooklyn

conyfera:

You turn to me, i see eternity #brooklyn

2 notes
I wanted to see where beauty comes from
without you in the world, hauling my heart
across sixty acres of northeast meadow,
my pockets filling with flowers.
Then I remembered,
it’s you I miss in the brightness
and body of every living name:
rattlebox, yarrow, wild vetch.
You are the green wonder of June,
root and quasar, the thirst for salt.
When I finally understand that people fail
at love, what is left but cinquefoil, thistle,
the paper wings of the dragonfly
aeroplaning the soul with a sudden blue hilarity?
If I get the story right, desire is continuous,
equatorial. There is still so much
I want to know: what you believe
can never be removed from us,
what you dreamed on Walnut Street
in the unanswerable dark of your childhood,
learning pleasure on your own.
Tell me our story: are we impetuous,
are we kind to each other, do we surrender
to what the mind cannot think past?
Where is the evidence I will learn
to be good at loving?
The black dog orbits the horseshoe pond
for treefrogs in their plangent emergencies.
There are violet hills,
there is the covenant of duskbirds.
The moon comes over the mountain
like a big peach, and I want to tell you
what I couldn’t say the night we rushed
North, how I love the seriousness of your fingers
and the way you go into yourself,
calling my half-name like a secret.
I stand between taproot and treespire.
Here is the compass rose
to help me live through this.
Here are twelve ways of knowing
what blooms even in the blindness
of such longing. Yellow oxeye,
viper’s bugloss with its set of pink arms
pleading do not forget me.
We hunger for eloquence.
We measure the isopleths.
I am visiting my life with reckless plenitude.
The air is fragrant with tiny strawberries.
Fireflies turn on their electric wills:
an effulgence. Let me come back
whole, let me remember how to touch you
before it is too late.
- Stacie Cassarino, Summer Solstice

(Source: grammatolatry)

1,417 notes

What is love to you?

(Source: thoughtline)

876 notes