-h.m.valentine
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@myweakknees
-h.m.valentine
you ravage your acolytes. it’s no wonder you tried to hide their detestation. your urges seep through your human suit and into my naive eyes and i couldn’t help but want it anyhow.
i cant keep on with the guilt. i inflicted you upon the weakest of us. god, forgive me.
now i don’t know how to carry on like normal, all your secrets feel like knives in my belly as your eyes stare through my brain.
i’m inside out for you, baby. this is the worst kind of pain.
— Mary Lambert, Shame Is an Ocean I Swim Across
the lover’s almanac : part one.
Underrated Elation
It takes a speck of sadness to relish
a downpour of shunned joy; when days
cloaked in muteness stretch over the spring,
chrysalides' arrested developments wait for
the next memory's birth to unfurl; and yet
I lie bare on the vernal grass, drenched
with anticipation, as I summon
your hissing tongue
to lick me clean.
✒️ F. J.
— v, excerpts from a book i’ll never write #2 (via letsbelonelytogetherr)
Entreaties
I leave the cathedral absorbed in contrasts: daisies, buttercups, and blackened walls, a spiked iron fence and a swallowtail. After hallowed ceilings, the sky is dazzling.
On the parvis grass a group of children plays softball. They run, cheering one another. And why not? Surely, the sight is pleasing to any rendition of a benign universe.
I cross the cobbles. Opposite the portico a young woman in stripey slippers lies passed out cold in a concrete doorway, half under a blanket that was once pink.
Surely, she is not any less pleasing. Surely, she is a part of all this innocence, of the stillness within the stone, the green and blue and gold, of the children,
for the love of God.