I was an angel once, caught in the grace of his love. Then I felt myself falling. He had ripped out my wings and taken away the grace of his love without so much as a goodbye. The blood from the unhealing wounds where my wings once were provide the ink that I use to pour out my soul on paper.

27th June 2012

Quote reblogged from "Poetry is what gets lost in translation."R Frost with 3,216 notes

My wish is that you may be loved to the point of madness.
— André Breton (via misswallflower)

Source: misswallflower

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