I am no longer in love with her, that’s certain, but maybe I love her. Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Pablo Neruda, Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair (via observando)

You were just a boy on a bed in a room, like a kaleidoscope is a tube full of bits of broken glass. But the way I saw you was pieces refracting the light, shifting into an infinite universe of flowers and rainbows and insects and planets, magical dividing cells, pictures no one else knew.

Francesca Lia Block, Wasteland  (via rampias)