#deathpoem

[incognito-melancholia]

"I hope death is like being carried to your bedroom when you were a child & fell asleep on the couch during a family party. I hope you can hear the laughter from the next room."

[krydesama]

If tomorrow I’ll be gone Would you forget the good Things we’ve done? If tomorrow I’ll be gone Would you still remember me Like we were twenty-one? If tomorrow I’ll be gone Do not mourn for I’m In peace at once. I wouldn’t want to see Your crying face For that time I’ll be At a lovely place With our memories in my heart, Carved like a master Piece of art.

[thememoiristslosttrain]

Six months

If I had six months to live And I told you today, Would you run to my side Or dart right out of my life? Would you spend our time in the fields of butterflies Or let it go to ruin; wasted - forgetting that I have that time? Could you see your life, designed and defined, without mine Or stay stuck; living a life, begging to once again be touched by mine? Would you dream of nights when I'm no longer by your side and disappear in fear Or dream of those nights and grab as much time, take what you will be later denied? Will you still love me, knowing I'm as temporary as a Mayfly Or let our love be as fleeting as it's life I have six months to live Be by my side. Spend with me, for the last time, hours in fields of butterflies. For now, while I still breathe, don't see a life without me. Don't dream of those nights, not now, not later, not even when I die. Love me, just because I am a Mayfly. When six months have past and I have died. Remember me, full of life. Preserve me, at the back of your mind. Forget me, live another life.

[incognito-melancholia]

I do not know if I will ever forget. I do not know if I want to. I am every age I have ever been. All time ever does is pass and all I ever do is remember. There are days I do not recognise myself in old pictures. There are times I feel like my life stopped at 18.

[incognito-melancholia]

[incognito-melancholia]

There's a sickening feeling of familiarity, when the wrong person knows you too well ...and you know them too well... and they weren't always the wrong person!

[incognito-melancholia]

"It's pouring, the trees are getting greener before my eyes, I love you. I'm almost afraid of the intensity of this happiness.

- Vladimir Nabokov, from Letters to Véra tr. by Olga Voronina & Brian Boyd

[incognito-melancholia]

Isolation is not safety, it is death. If no one knows you're alive, you aren't!

Neil Hilborn: (poem: This is Not the End of the World)