bethssilence

to write.

[my-dreams-will-be-my-future-dea]

[bethssilence-blog]

You know what's wrong with you, Miss Whoever-You-Are? You're chicken, you've got no guts. You're afraid to stick out your chin and say, "Okay, life's a fact, people do fall in love, people do belong to each other, because that's the only chance anybody's got for real happiness." You call yourself a free spirit, a wild thing, and you're terrified somebody's going to stick you in a cage. Well baby, you're already in that cage. You built it yourself. And it's not bounded in the west by Tulip Texas, or in the east by Somaliland. It's wherever you go. Because no matter where you run, you just end up running into yourself.

Fred, Breakfast at Tiffany’s

[bethssilence-blog]

long love

“Darling don’t leave.”

It’s okay I won’t.

“I have a need.”

I wish only to know.

“I hear it in my soul, it rattles like it’s loose.”

Does it hurt?

“No.

“Well only when I’m without you.

“It rattles like fear and wonder and dread,

“That come someday you’ll disappear and I’ll remember it’s said,

“You don’t know what you have until it’s all gone,

“And I don’t want to forget like how they say it may come.”

...

“I’m so sorry.”

My dear, you’re tired and worried by no sleep.

Do you feel my hand? And my pulse, how it beats?

As long as it does so I’ll go nowhere,

No place without you and your sweet white hair.

Your worrying brow that seldom sleeps,

And your eyes that you are always using to think.

If tomorrow you wake and don’t remember my face,

I’ll write down some memories for you to take.

Precious and sweet and humble and true.

Everyone of them dear, I’ll take care of them all to keep giving them back to you.