Every night I extirpate you from my heart, and every morning I construct you again.
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@thedeadpoetshadow
Every night I extirpate you from my heart, and every morning I construct you again.
maybe it’s been years since we last spoke, but you still live somewhere in the back of my mind.
Every night I extirpate you from my heart, and every morning I construct you again.
I didn’t send the message.
Not because my hands didn’t shake, not because the words weren’t loud in my chest, but because I chose myself for once.
poem— (repost)
Reblog with your listening age according to Spotify
writer culture is spending an hour rewriting the same sentence only to leave it as it was at the start
- 💀
.
They say one day you’ll wake up and forget about it like it never happened.
But today is not that day.
a listener need a listener too—
You're my that nothing.
And I hate when I have so much to say and I'm feeling so much that no words can describe.
𝙽𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟸𝟷, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟹 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝙾𝚏 𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚣 𝙺𝚊𝚏𝚔𝚊, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟶-𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟹
What's the point of showing up in my dreams if you don't exist in my reality?
I won't survive this.
i hope to possess the power of understanding what the actual fuck is wrong with me all the time
17 November, 1927 The Letters of Vita Sackville-West to Virginia Woolf (1924-1941)