"Purple flowers grow, the colour blood looks in the veins. They’ll sprout out of my chest. I promise you they’ll crack the ground, grow over the freeways down the slopes to the sea. I’ll be in their faces. I’ll be in the waves, coming down on you from the sky. I’ll be inside the one who holds you.
And then I won’t be."
— Francesca Lia Block, Wasteland (via ontheedgeofdarkness)
(Source: ofdisappearances)
- 1 week ago
- 23
