He strips me away to my last nakedness, that underskin of mauve, pearlized satin, like a skinned rabbit; then dresses me again in an embrace so lucid and encompasing that it might be made of water. And shakes over me dead leaves as into the stream I have become. Angela Carter, The Erl King. (via light-essence)

(Source: venusmilk, via bruisebouquet)

I’m not sad, but the boys who are looking for sad girls always find me. I’m not a girl anymore and I’m not sad anymore. You want me to be a tragic backdrop so that you can appear to be illuminated, so that people can say ‘Wow, isn’t he so terribly brave to love a girl who is so obviously sad?’ You think I’ll be the dark sky so you can be the star? I’ll swallow you whole. Warsan Shire  (via fleurstains)

(Source: sirenchild, via starmaps)