But the sky is still the sky without you,
And I’m not surprised by that anymore. ❞
Caitlyn Siehl, from This is Not a Love Poem (via alonesomes)
Haruki Murakami (via kushandwizdom)
Maybe when you were a child your father always shook down the wasp nest
or took to it with a bat until it exploded into Northern Lights.
And most people assumed it would always be your father doing that,
were never able to see how your mother already was: