Egon Schiele, Crouching Nude in Shoes and Black Stockings, Back View, 1912.
A
(Source: metmuseum.org)
"32. I’m a lover without a lover.
33. I’m lovely and lonely.
34. I belong deeply to myself."
33. I’m lovely and lonely.
34. I belong deeply to myself."
tactile by emily kendall on Flickr.
"
I do not know how to tell you
what I am feeling.
You ask, and
my tongue strangles itself.
It chokes itself silent.
Under my heart,
there is a wellspring
of things I wish I could
tell you, and my tongue
is the cork stoppering
them up. It is the sentinel
warden at the gate, letting
none of the prisoners through.
I wish I could drive a spile
under my ribs
and let it all pour out for you.
Liegender Frauenakt nach rechts, by Gustav Klimt (1912-1913.)
"My insomnia is at its worst; I can’t sleep and the rain is determined not to quit soliloquizing about you all night. I can’t help but overhear, my dear."
"How many times have people used a pen or paintbrush because they couldn’t pull the trigger?"
Anne Sexton, “For My Lover, Returning To His Wife”
(Source: worn-in-perfection)
(Source: malebasi)
