Because the night belongs to lovers…
Because the night belongs to lovers…
The wind is clawing at the window panes. Trees roar under its pressure as cars screech and wind home for the night. I watch him walk, crossing the ally and down the neighborhood street, till he disappears into the darkness of the trees shadows. He is lost till the headlights flick on and he turns back to wave at me, blowing me kisses to our second story home.
A neighbor is calling in her cat. Just as she does every night around this time.
-A.H.
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James McNeill Whistler —
Nocturne in Black and Gold: The Falling Rocket.
(Source: ephe, via goldenfools)
Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita
———
not really but it sounds pretty.
(via butchrag)
(Source: thenocturnals, via butchrag)
View high resolution
James McNeill Whistler —
Nocturne in Black and Gold: The Falling Rocket.
(Source: ephe, via petit-poids)