kameneva

She doesn’t need to speak. Her presence says, I endured.

[kameneva]

She exhales. Relieved. Safe.

Then she smiles, that small, shy one he loves.

"I like showing you my pieces."

He smirks slightly now.

"I know. You always watch my face when I read them."

She blushes.

Caught.

@kameneva

[kameneva]

major tom: i am suspended between worlds

@kameneva

[kameneva]

to tear a vow from flesh

@kameneva

[literaryvein]

L. V., excerpts from the afterword

[kameneva]

I never wanted a saint—yet he kneels, bleeding, at my feet.

[kameneva]

in my misery, i found a peculiar companionship

@kameneva

[kameneva]

the immortal man

@kameneva

[kameneva]

The poetry community is richer for your voice—you are such a talented writer. You deserve all the flowers and more. 💐💐💐

Late or not, your words feel like a bouquet I’ll keep close. Thank you for showering me with such kindness. 🤍

[kameneva]

the vessel of eight million

I see her — this deity of soot and silk — and I wonder if I, too, have grown limbs no one can see. Arms to carry the children I never had. Arms to strike the fathers, I never forgave. A halo behind me, or a noose. I can't tell. She isn't monstrous. She's inevitable.

i do not fear her. I envy her.

@kameneva

[nixscriptum]

[kameneva]

cilla blanchard and rex sawyer 🤍

[kameneva]

the devoted

@kameneva

[kameneva]

Literature;

They said books were lifeboats, but I climbed in and drowned. The page is not paper—it is flesh, stretched tight over bones of thought. It sighs beneath the scalpel of the pen. I write, and something within it bleeds. And yet—there is beauty in this autopsy. There is heaven in the horror. The ink does not lie: it remembers everything I was too afraid to say aloud.

@kameneva

[kameneva]

I just stumbled upon you and am in love with your writing style. Are you an author? Have you written any books? Love love love your stuff

Oh wow. Thank you for your kind words. I write because it hurts not to. I haven't written books exactly. Just pages. Messy ones. Half-truths that feel more honest than anything I say out loud. And maybe that's enough. Not a book, not a clean ending. Just the ache, the scrawl, the trying. Some days that's all I have. And still, I write. 🤍

[kameneva]

possession

@kameneva

[kameneva]

i refuse to let go

@kameneva

[kameneva]

you didn't know i was dying

@kameneva

[kameneva]

i prefer ink

@kameneva

[kameneva]

an elergy for chatterton

@kameneva