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any prns • 18 i know love is real because i love you

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sorry i send you so many tiktoks i see a beautiful thing and i think of you

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Well, let it pass; April is over, April is over. There are all kinds of love in the world, but never the same love twice.

-F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Short Stories.

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In the first week of April the weather turned suddenly unseasonably, insistently lovely. The sky was blue, the air was warm and windless, and the sun beamed on the muddy ground with all the sweet impatience of June.

-Donna Tartt, The Secret History (1992).

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And he is— Oh, well! He is just himself, and I miss him, and miss him, and miss him. The whole world seems empty and aching. I hate the moonlight because it’s beautiful and he isn’t here to see it with me. But maybe you’ve loved somebody, too, and you know? If you have, I don’t need to explain; if you haven’t, I can’t explain.

-Unknown.

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touch

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it’s so easy to laugh

it’s so easy to hate

it takes guts to be gentle and kind

-The Smiths, “I Know It’s Over.”

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I love you and I always will and I am sorry. What a useless word.

-Ernest Hemingway, The Garden of Eden.

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sun gods

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i press your face into mine, hard.

hard enough to hurt,

hard enough to bruise.

you pull away and press a kiss to the flushed apple of my cheek.

oh, my sweet boy.

i do not want this.

i do not want a tender love.

i do not want you to treat me like a flower petal, about to tear under the soft flesh of your tongue.

i want to be close to you.

so close, we’re one.

i want to touch you.

to tear and claw and taste blood,

and then to smile, red lust smeared over my teeth and down my face.

to look like a sunset, or a cannibal.

tell me, my love,

is a bite not also a touch?

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dancers

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ophelia

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i lost my virginity in my childhood bed and my first swig of vodka burnt like communion wine

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blonde

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“and i’ll shake my head”

your hair catches the sun and i think of the luck i have, existing with you. i do not think of the luck i have, loving you, because i will cry.

and you will swipe a worried thumb under my eye and murmur,

“what’s wrong?”

and i’ll shake my head because how can i make the words i say every day mean more? it’s all i have, what i give you,

it’s all “i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you,

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spectres

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To love another person is to see the face of God.

-Victor Hugo, Les Misèrables.

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we were girls together