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I don’t remember us, really.
I mean I do, but not in a familiar way.
When I think of us I think of the time
this old war veteran came to visit
our class to talk about his time
in Germany, the number of people
who died by his hand, how horrific
the whole experience was.
I think about the sincerity on his face
when he told us that he didn’t want
to have a son because he couldn’t
bear the thought of losing him to another war.

A guy sitting behind me blurted out
his curiosity, ‘so how did it feel,
killing those people, what was it like?’

I remember how the veteran looked
at each and every one of us before
he answered, blank, as if he had
forgotten where he was for a moment.

'Like?' he said, ' I don't know what
it was like. It didn’t happen to me,
it happened to someone I never knew.
I wasn’t there. I was floating,
I was watching from above.’

Now I know that I’ve never been to war,
and I cannot claim to understand
what this veteran had been through,
but I do know loss and I do know pain
and I know that each of us remembers differently.

When I think of us, I think of the war veteran
who chose to remember the battlefield
from somewhere in the sky.

And when I think of what it was like
being in love with you, I still touch myself
as if I’m covered in all of this blood
and I can’t find a wound.

Pavana पवन

(Source: maza-dohta)

I don’t want to look back in five years time and think, ‘We could have been magnificent, but I was afraid.’ In 5 years I want to tell of how fear tried to cheat me out of the best thing in life, and I didn’t let it.

(via tropicalrainstorm)

(Source: thedbldee)

One day, whether you
are 14,
or 65

you will stumble upon
someone who will start
a fire in you that cannot die.

However, the saddest,
most awful truth
you will ever come to find––

is they are not always
with whom we spend our lives.

Beau Taplin, "The Awful Truth" {Hunting Season – 28 copies left} 

(Source: afadthatlastsforever)


take me to an art museum and stroke my hair and tell me im the prettiest thing in the room