Here’s the thing, here’s the stuff I last cried over: I’ve always been too much for men. I remember coming home from the bar one night and a car had run over a white cat on my street. I was drunk and I saw it from my doorstep. I ran out into the street and one blue eyeball…
It’s not that you can’t have morals without God, it’s that you can’t make sense of morals without God.
When I think of you I think of dying.
I’ve been burning memories in photographs in boxes in my backyard, with stacks of beach trips and birthdays and anniversaries, and fingers in hands, and cheeks pressed together and looking at nothing. And both of us burning.
This is beautiful.
Leslie Ludy (via littlethingsaboutgod)