even on easy days it’s difficult

And how odd it is
to be haunted by someone
that is still alive.
— I Guess the Old You is a Ghost (#589: June 25, 2014)

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.


In Flanders Field by John McCrae (via goldthehardesthue)
I wish I could walk till my blood should spout,
And drop me, never to stir again,
On a shore that is wide, for the tide is out,
And the weedy rocks are bare to the rain.
— Edna St. Vincent Millay, from “Departure” (via proustitute)
The people who are meant to be in your life will always gravitate back towards you, no matter how far they wander.
— Unknown (via soulsscrawl)