It’s hard to convince myself I don’t need someone by my side anymore.
For 5 months of my life I had you, to talk to, to love, to be loved by.
You consumed so much of me, took over so much of my life and without you so much was taken.
Your words were taken. Your body. Car rides curled into your side. Sleeping in your arms. Talking until late at night. Seeing each other in the morning. Getting into trouble together. Summer nights with all of our friends. Loving together.
The absence of you in a sense was the absence of me. You took pieces of my life that I thought had been set in stone.
But it was all temporary, you were temporary.
—  v.m

This little sickie was Typewriter Series #132 a bit ago. Still rings just as true in me heart.

Also, my new book, Wildly Into The Dark, is officially available for preorder! Every pre sold copy I am donating $1 to @twloha And the first 1,500 get a free signed print from the book! Head to bit.ly/WildlyIntoTheDark to order then to tylerknott.com/wildly to fill out the form and get your print! This is my most honest and intimate book of the lot, and it would mean the world to me if you would take a chance on it.

It took me a while to discover that people don’t exist in the ways we think they do. No one ever falls apart completely: sadness is never absolute, it just dissolves you bit by bit.
In January you stopped learning Latin.
In February you started crying in the shower.
In March you jumped off a bridge.
Parts of you went missing, day by day, month by month. I tossed every last fragment of my life aside, searching for something left of you in my house. I didn’t find what I was looking for until I pushed myself into a burning hot shower. I wanted to feel the way you felt. I wanted to hurt the way you hurt. The mirror steamed up in a fleeting second, and all that remained of you hung in the air.
Yesterday, after crying, I assume, you had traced your legacy onto glass: ‘mors certa, hora incerta’.
In April I looked it up.
'LATIN. 'Mors certa, hora incerta’- 'death is certain, the hour is not.’
—  #174- excerpts from the book I’ll never write
Holding on

What are we but lovers caught in a dream;
Entangled in a web of long gone wishes
Where only kisses breathe us alive,
We, trapped in a trance transcending time,
Locked is our distant gaze, craving eternity;
A single touch, what more could we want?

To remain close! – conjoined, is all we want:
Ethereal existence as in a dream,
Energy fusing in eternity,
We, longing to be but the sum of our wishes;
Sand never ruled by the hourglass of time,
Never falling, yet evolving, growing; alive.

I promise, our passion will forever remain alive,
This attraction fulfills the whole of our want;
We get lost in each other; in time! –
Skin to skin feels like a dream,
Let us stay drunk on love, high on our wishes;
Tightly clutched together for a sheer eternity.

This is destiny; our mortal grasp at eternity,
White sparkles inciting a flame forever alive,
Devouring us; stripping us of all wishes
Until we are consummated, free from want,
Absorbing the illusion of that lucid dream
Where your last kiss stops all time.

(Our moments will fade to memories in time.)

Us, promising and even expecting eternity;
Fools believe in such an idyllic dream! –
This last chance to keep you alive
Slowly slips away, wrenching my every want,
I see, only the heavens can grant wishes.

Bereft of hope, I whisper sweet death wishes,
Unable, no, reluctant to bide out my time
Now each waking day ends in the want
To gently slip into oneiric eternity,
The only place where I find you, still alive.

Alas, it is always just a dream.

Written by @denmysterywoman,
and @definegodliness

I feel blue but not the blue of sadness. More like the feeling when you look up at the sky and you see it so bright and you know it’s going to be a good day.
—  giulswrites