On certain incredible nights,
When your flesh is drenched with moon
And the windows are wide open:
Your breasts are sculpted
From the soft inside of darkness
And your belly a fragment of a great bright flask.
Thank-God a peninsula of sheet across your waist
Imprisons you upon my bed.
O not toward the glory
Of the beautifully infested outside skies,
Where girls of might are floating up from every room,
Would I a moment turn my head,
As other men have innocently done!”—Leonard Cohen. On Certain Incredible Nights. Let Us Compare Mythologies. (via anotherword)
“[You will fall out of love. You will fall in love. You will fall out of love.
You will run out of money. You will be glad it’s always warm. You will stare at the sea. You will stare at the sun. You will stare at the birds breaking up blue.] You will stare at the wind leant palms.”—Fielden Nelson, from “Failure Map” (via the-final-sentence)