🥺 Why are you so fucking cute?!
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Love Begins
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@whispersweetnothing
🥺 Why are you so fucking cute?!
Your hand in mine...
Is the beginning and end of time.
i’d wait for you. forever if that’s what it took.
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I am gasping for your breath
to invade my lungs
and remind me
of what it means to breathe.
Despite our claims to the contrary, life is always carried on in faith, rather than truth - as truth is absolutely relative and faith exists as the manifestation of unfettered trust in a higher power or our opinions of the sum of our observations.
At which point do our experiences tip into delusion? At which point do our convictions begin to match our actions?
I'm left with an empty shell. I beg you to lie to me. You've done it before.
You can do it again.
— Jessica Katoff, Love Like Arson
How many tears can someone cry?
I feel pathetic.
Are you living or simply waiting to die?
When I saw you for the very first time,
You wore a shade of blushing anxiety and awkwardness;
A large, black bag clutched to your side,
You faced me with a fearful
Yet determined look in your eyes.
Every step towards you stretched on and on,
over the span of my entire life,
Until I stood before you, with you,
And we shook from the love we craved,
paralyzed.
the intimacy of being tired together. a head on a chest while falling asleep to the thump thump thump of your love’s heart. those delirious giggles you get directed at nothing in particular. to be wrapped in a cocoon of blankets on a cold winter’s night, bodies as close and intertwined as humanly possible to keep warm. there’s nothing i want more than to drift off in the arms of the one i love.
And more.
Every moment you don't respond is a moment the entirety of the world crumbles down around me, and I am left dwelling within the bitter ruins of a reality I cannot recognize and cannot love.
You should be by my side. Anything less is suffering.
“I learn tonight how many years of learning by heart I waited for you.”
— John Berger, from And Our Faces, My Heart, Brief as Photos
Just how many ways
can you tangle words,
the way we tangle
our legs and lives.
Losing our pieces
in carefully woven nests,
bodies embraced for rest.
A permanent escape.
Beyond the grip
Of an ever looming fear,
just out of touch
but always near.
Why aren't you here?
It's like you're animatronic, the repetitious replies of a recording, telling me what I want to hear with no answers, promises, or understanding.
Are you even there?
You write to me every day, but you won't call me. It's as if I'm the only one who is missing the others voice.
What a hole you've left in me.
When you say things like this so carelessly, it shatters what's left of my heart.