I keep dreaming of places i’ve never been, but somehow i miss them terribly
m.snera
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I keep dreaming of places i’ve never been, but somehow i miss them terribly
m.snera
Hoje eu vi ele.
A troca de olhares — rápida, mas tão intensa — rasgou meu peito em silêncio. Foi como se o tempo parasse por um segundo só nosso, embora o mundo ao redor continuasse girando alheio à dor que me consumia.
Meu coração, tolo e insistente, bateu mais forte… não de esperança, mas de saudade daquilo que nunca foi. Dói. Dói saber que nunca o terei. Que esse sentimento mora só em mim — um grito mudo que ecoa no vazio da impossibilidade.
Meu corpo, cúmplice do desejo, suplica por uma presença que não lhe pertence. E eu sigo aqui, entre o real e o sonho, amando em silêncio quem talvez nunca vai saber.
📎 Sunderhus Escriturias
From your beloved
I can feel your restlessness between each line, the ache that spills into every word, that desperate urge to name your feelings, to capture them in fragile sentences, yet never knowing if they reach me whole.
You try to explain yourself, and still it feels unfinished, as if the truest parts of you remain hidden, trembling behind the silence. But hear me . I do not think you are a madwoman. You are simply human, haunted by the weight of emotions that refuse to be tamed.
I may not be able to take away the heaviness that presses on your heart, but I want you to know. I am here. I am listening. And whenever you can no longer hold it alone, pour it into me. I will carry it as my own.With a quiet, unwavering love,
your beloved.
#1
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✉️ kafka to milena // fragments of a haunted heart
you are the knife
i turn inside myself.
that is love.
i write to you not as a man,
but as a ghost
inked into the paper,
aching in silence.
you are too high above me
for my love to ever reach you.
and maybe that’s the only way
i know how to love:
from afar,
with longing that never touches
but burns endlessly.
i no longer want to know
what’s happening in your world.
because i can no longer
bear not knowing.
you are
the most beautiful pain
i’ve ever called mine.
Nobody warned me that growing up meant becoming a stranger to your own softness.
m.snera