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@halleeex
I want to live in these beautiful places ...
Sylvia Plath, aged 29, after discovering her husband's affair, in a letter to Ruth Tiffany Barnhouse Beuscher, her former psychiatrist (dated Friday, 20 July 1962)
Livre de la Vigne nostre Seigneur; France, 15th century; Bodleian Library, MS. Douce 134, f. 49v
in another universe, i got to love you the way i wanted, and you let yourself feel all of it
Hilma Af Klint, The Swan No. 1
I was searching for something today when I saw it—
your peppermint candy.
It took me back to that moment—
car parked, us sitting there together.
The freckled seashells I had gathered because they reminded me of you.
The keychain from a place you’d never been, so you could carry a piece of it anyway.
The way your face softened as you pulled each thing from the bag.
“Why do you do this to me?” you asked, almost shy, blushing.
Because nobody’s ever seen you the way I did.
We got out of the car to go eat.
You were searching through your bag for something—anything, I guess.
“Here,” you said, holding out a single peppermint candy with a sheepish smile.
“Here’s my souvenir,” you joked.
But I told you I’d keep it, and I did.
I wonder if you knew that.
- I’ll be seeing you
The Lovers
Kaja Horvat, 2024
Right as I opened my door, there you were.
Hands tucked in your pockets, that soft, dimpled smile across your face.
It felt like something out of a movie—I was the main character, and you were the boy who always showed up at just the right time.
I wasn’t expecting you, but there you were anyway.
Funny how that worked out—because when we met,
I wasn’t expecting you, either.
Now we’re here, six months later.
You’re leaving—not because I want you to,
not because you want to,
but because you have to.
I stand there, looking up at you with tears stained under my eyes,
knowing that “goodbye” could mean for now or forever.
Neither of us knows for sure, but we both carry the quiet hope that this goodbye isn’t the end.
For a moment, neither of us moves,
as if staying here long enough
might make time forget to pull us apart.
- I’ll be seeing you
I keep looking at you,
And every time I study your face, I get a glimpse of the boy you used to be—
Vulnerable, bright, and full of wonder.
I never knew you then,
But I still see you.
I see it in the way you laugh, like you still believe in magic,
When your smile reaches me like a memory I shouldn’t have.
When you tell me your stories,
Or when your eyes well with tears, and you apologize with a softness,
Like you’re scared you’ve let me down,
Like a child who thinks they’ve done something wrong.
I can’t help but see it—
The boy you were, laid bare in the quiet vulnerability of the man before me.
- I’ll be seeing you