@gardenbeelesbian - Tumblr Blog

Paintings that scream "a lesbian and gay man who are best friends in a lavender marriage"

[Image 1: Untitled by Haddon Sundblom, Image 2: Evening on the River by Michael Malm, Image 3: Playing Their Song by Joseph Lorusso, Image 4: On the river by Puteiko Vladimir Grigorievich]

luminous-studiess

2023 REBRANDING ‘ME HAVING A HARD TIME BREATHING FROM ANXIETY’ AS ‘BREATHLESS AT THE PROSPECT OF GOING INTO NEW AND WONDERFUL AND UNCHARTED WATERS’

shisasan

Egon Schiele, Two Figures, 1917

sportsbianism-deactivated202306

i really truly do believe in true love... but you can't just leave it in someone else's hands. you have to do true love and give true love and act true love... and you have to do it every day before you even meet the person you're going to give it to, because it takes a lot of practice and you want to be ready, because you truly love them

engulfes

Taking a walk because it feels good going to bed on time because it feels good waking up earlier because it feels good eating enough fruit because it feels good doing a workout because it feels good cooking myself a nice meal because it feels good staying in contact with friends because it feels good… sometimes joy is work but it’s always worth it

lylylylylylylylyly

pitseleh333

from this ask polly

freakoutgirl

The thing is I do like cliche and over-quoted poetry. Like wow I do love you and I'm glad I exist. You are in a car with a beautiful boy and he won't tell you that he loves you but he loves you. You do only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. There are twice as many stars as usual.

aeschylus-stan-account

Gay Pride Weekend, S.F., 1992

by Brenda Shaughnessy

I forgot how lush and electrified it was with you. The shaggy fragrant zaps continually passing back and forth, my fingertip to your clavicle, or your wrist rubbing mine to share gardenia oil. We so purred like dragonflies we kept the mosquitoes away and the conversation was heavy, mother-lacerated childhoods and the sad way we'd both been both ignored and touched badly. Knowing that being fierce and proud and out and loud was just a bright new way to be needy. Please listen to me, oh what a buzz! you're the only one I can tell. Even with no secret, I could come close to your ear with my mouth and that was ecstasy, too. We barely touched each other, we didn't have to speak. The love we made leapt to life like a cat in the space between us (if there ever was space between us), and looked back at us through fog. Sure, this was San Francisco, it was often hard to see. But fog always burned off, too, so we watched this creature to see if it knew what it was doing. It didn't.