Words of a Readaholic Firefly

Elaine. 18. English and Spanish. Nursing student.
I love words, their sound, their taste, their feel. And I love sharing them with the ones who love them too.

Llueve con el escándalo de las bombetas. 

Beirut enciende la llama de mi farol de independencia interior.

La miel de dulce de tapa. Los prestiños. El aire húmedo. Miramar se asoma, extiende los dedos de su pequeña mano hacia mí, me recuerda que cuando le di la espalda a sus memorias, ellas escogieron olores y colores nuevos para cuando volviera.

Well it’s been a long time, long time now since I’ve seen you smile. 

“His heart was like a sensitive plant, that opens for a moment in the sunshine, but curls up and shrinks into itself at the slightest touch of the finger, or the lightest breath of wind.”

—    Anne Brontë, The Tenant of Wildfill Hall 

(Source: margita-in-slacks, via letterstoleila)

“I tend to phase in and out of quietness. I can be happy and not show a spec of it. I can be sad and cover it up with a smile, or if I can’t help it, cover it up with silence. When I’m not thinking about sealing happiness shut, I’ll grab a chair, sit next to you, and talk to you about everything from A to Z.”


I sense change heading my way.

Leila Luqman

(via mybookofwords)

(Source: letterstoleila)

“It was never
about conquering
the entire galaxy.

It was about
pointing at a
handful of stars
and learning
them inside out.”

—   Noor Shirazie, Start small.
(via aestheticintrovert)

(via letterstoleila)

“I have no idea how he knows when I need him. We can go weeks without speaking, and then, when my blue moods threaten to turn black, he will show up and tell me my moods are:
and suddenly the blue will not seem so dark, more like the color of a noon-bright sky.
He brings the sun.”


The Realm of Possibility, David Levithan

(Source: wordsthat-speak, via letterstoleila)


S’mores Cinnamon Rolls | Crepes of Wrath

“The free soul is rare, but you know it when you see it - basically because you feel good, very good, when you are near or with them.”

Charles Bukowski

"I fear my poetry. Words haunting my mind until bound in ink, abandoned in the detritus of life. I fear your thoughts as you read my words… too open, too raw, too real. Each poem, at once both far too personal and just empty words, an extracted thread colored by life. I fear the unravelling of my thoughts in your presence."

“I guess that’s what we all crave once in a while. Okayness. Alrightness.”


Markus Zusak, Getting the Girl

(Source: raisingareader, via letterstoleila)

“Y después de un tiempo, uno aprende que si es demasiado, hasta el calorcito del sol quema.
Así que uno planta su propio jardín y decora su propia alma, en lugar de esperar que alguien le traiga flores.”


Jorge Luís Borges

(Source: obsidiana-pura, via historias-de-cronopios)

Laura Pritchett, Sky Bridge