VII

You’re the difference between hell and home The sky lost a star that night

[neckkiss]

SKINS

Mr.Cook

[headlikeanorange]

[sulfatto-deactivated20241018]

[neckkiss]

Sunset at the Santa Monica

Source: 500px

[quotemadness]

“The hardest part of letting go is understanding that the other person is okay without you.”

— B.M.

[vexeia]

[perrfectly]

[love-personal]

[successfulling]

[cerleansky]

The legacies people leave behind in you.

My handwriting is the same style as the teacher’s who I had when I was nine. I’m now twenty one and he’s been dead eight years but my i’s still curve the same way as his.

I watched the last season of a TV show recently but I started it with my friend in high school. We haven’t spoken in four years.

I make lentil soup through the recipe my gran gave me.

I curl my hair the way my best friend showed me.

I learned to love books because my father loved them first.

How terrifying, how excruciatingly painful to acknowledge this. That I am a jigsaw puzzle of everyone I have briefly known and loved. I carry them on with me even if I don’t know it. How beautiful.

[speaklavenderthoughts-deactivat]

absolutely obsessed with these tags

[sustancy]

[feral-ballad]

Anna Akhmatova, tr. by Lenore Mayhew and William Mcnaughton, from Poem Without A Hero and Selected Poems

[yuyuuyuyuu-deactivated20230726]

[julykings]

i want to be loved but not like that. peer into my small indoor life and ask for the bits you want to keep like a garage sale or a free sofa in the street. i miss all the storms i’ve slept through. i want to be loved the way the thunder surprises us, fast and possible like a reminder. yes i need a lot of reminding. of wrapping up, cleaning, showering in the dark so i don’t have to look at myself. peer into my life. my envelopes opened with small knives, my closet with its mostly stained clothes. peer into my envelope. ask that i fold neatly around you and divulge…

[horrifying]

by Peter Przybille

[anamorphosis-and-isolate]

― Comet (2014) Dell: There are parallel universes out there where this didn’t happen. Where I was with you and you were with me. And whatever universe that is, that’s the one that my heart lives in.

[love]

“This photograph is my proof. There was that afternoon, when things were still good between us, and she embraced me, and we were so happy. It did happen. She did love me. Look for yourself.” This is my proof, Duane Michals, 1974