All My Bones are Dust

...and my heart's sealed with rust...

59 notes

It does not matter what I say. Crowding, like a fluttering bird, one sentence crosses the empty space between us. It settles on his lips. I fill my glass again. I drink. The veil drops between us. I am admitted to the warmth and privacy of another soul.
Virginia Woolf,The Waves. (via fuckyeahvirginiawoolf)