Haiku Feels @kneeuhlay - Tumblr Blog

shadow-writer-deactivated202111

“He’s a keeper.”

This is the kind of thing people tell me about you. As if you could be kept. As if I could actually count you among my things. As if you were a handful of sea glass, or a rose pressed into a book, or my grandmother’s lace handkerchief.

And though you may be more precious than any of those things, you are not mine to keep. But if you stay…if you stay I promise you, I will cherish you just the same.

wordsnquotes

Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art…. It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things which give value to survival.

C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves (via wordsnquotes)

pniepple

I put it down on paper and then the ghost does not ache so much.

Sandra Cisneros, The House on Mango Street (via pniepple)

wordsnquotes

Since I was young, I have always known this: Life damages us, every one. We can’t escape that damage. But now, I am also learning this: We can be mended. We mend each other.

Veronica Roth, Allegiant (via wordsnquotes)

recovering-and-healing

Do not confuse my bad days as a sign of weakness. Those are actually the days I am fighting my hardest.

(via broken-from-memories)

thelovejournals

It is easy to love people in memory; the hard thing is to love them when they are there in front of you.

John Updike, My Father’s Tears and Other Stories (via thelovejournals)

quotethat

I crave the side of you that you don’t show to anyone else.

Unknown (via quotethat)

lotsofpinkplaid

It ends or it doesn’t. That’s what you say. That’s how you get through it. The tunnel, the night, the pain, the love. It ends or it doesn’t. If the sun never comes up, you find a way to live without it. If they don’t come back, you sleep in the middle of the bed, learn how to make enough coffee for yourself alone. Adapt. Adjust. It ends or it doesn’t. It ends or it doesn’t. We do not perish.

Caitlyn Siehl (via lotsofpinkplaid)

wnq-writers

Last night. Our last night. The moon refused to rise. A cold wind took flight. Torment in your eyes. And while we slept. The stars, they wept. A billion delicate cries.

myremarkableplace (via wordsnquotes)

writingsforwinter

The Five Stages of Grief, as Told By Five Women Who Know Them Well

Denial, as told by Marie Curie

If only I hadn’t let you go out into the rain that day, if only the horse had fallen before it reached you. You are still there, are you not? It is but a dream. A cruel one, tipped with blood like a knife made for the killing. To see you tomorrow - I will wake from this dream and see you tomorrow. Pierre, of all the magic we discovered together, Eve was the most precious.

Anger, as told by Anne Boleyn

I gave you everything, my love, spent all my money on gowns, jewels, goblets, blushed my cheeks with rouge, offered you my body, extra finger and all, called for lavish dinners for you to feast upon. I gave you a child! And still. Still this dishonor, this presentation of my head on a silver platter to your festering mouth. It leaves me every night in a cold sweat. Let it be known: Elizabeth ruled this world better than you ever could. You selfish man. You ugly, selfish, despicable man. I will see your head on a platter in Hell.

Bargaining, as told by The Black Dahlia

They thought I was a store mannequin at first before they discovered I was a corpse. So pretty too, right? You loved that Glasgow smile. I’ll give you this case of moscato. I’ll give you everything that’s left in the safe. The diamonds, the notebooks, the brooch, anything. Don’t let them see me like this. Not with these bruises, these decayed teeth. Let me be known as Elizabeth Short, not by this dark flower. Don’t take my body. Not this. Not this.

Depression, as told by Cleopatra

I know it is false, but I cannot see life without this man. Not without Antony. Of all the joyful moments we spent together - the bet we made about the dinner, when I dissolved my pearl earring in the vinegar - the birth of our twins, even the death of my sister, our plans of revenge and glory were the most beloved. But the asps are ready now. The figs will be tasteless. My breast is bare. Let them take me like they took him.

Acceptance, as told by Georgia O’Keefe

After the breakdown, after the hospitalization, there were skulls, but there were wildflowers too. Painting gave me back the life that had been sucked from me, gave me every new cloud. It wasn’t a man who brought me back to myself. It was the land. It was me. And if I am ever lost again, I will be the one to find myself again.