Anne Carson, Plainwater: Essays and Poetry
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Anne Carson, Plainwater: Essays and Poetry
Callista Buchen, “Taking Care”
It is the sin of memory, which has no eyes or lips or flesh or nose, the silt of all the days and nights we have been without each other
Marina Tsvetaeva, trans. by Elaine Feinstein, from Bride of Ice: “Epitaph” (via intopermanence)
She smiled, with half- closed eyes; clasping her arms around my neck she pressed upon my lips a long, long kiss of morning greeting, like the kiss of an awakening dove.
Gustave Flaubert (1821-1880), from “November” (1842)
Maria Hummel, from “Stone Bread”
i’d rather have bad times with you then good times with someone else.
Luther Vandross (via aerigonee)
in the depths of despair you’ll hear her cry like a wolf’s howl echoing through the silence.
(via aerigonee)
a smile to smite her enemies and cure her allies.
(via aerigonee)
kiss me with the same passion you use to curse my name.
(via aerigonee)
your lies like fingers pressed into my wounds make me bleed the same way you made me yours
(via aerigonee)
if i scream will the void hear my cries, answer back with the reasons why my voice is stifled by the murmured whispers in the silence
(via aerigonee)
my fire blazes for all eyes laid upon my flames, you will remember the way i burn against your flesh
(via aerigonee)
i decide when the sword falls upon the neck of the one who stole my desire for life.
(via aerigonee)
“Cold, I felt. Cold as a garden in winter, gone deep to ground.”
— Madeline Miller, Circe
my mask is a painted smile, it hides the pain, the grief, the sorrow
(via aerigonee)
i worry so that they don’t have to, i stress because all i want is to keep them safe, my god if nothing else, keep them safe
(via aerigonee)
you can’t see me. you can’t unsee me. my face etched into the memory i hate the most. i scratch and claw at it to make it disappear. it’s still here. you can’t see how much it hurts to see me.
(via aerigonee)