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@the-year-i-met-you

you exist and i call you art.
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the-year-i-met-you
suntara
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theprofoundcosmos

The love was there.

(NOT BASED OFF ANY CURRENT EXPERIENCES)

Jeanette Winterson / Ashe Vernon / Clementine von Radics, "In a Dream You Saw a Way to Survive" / P.D, "there is no absolution for the fallen, only dying" / Sky Ferreia, "Sad Dreams" / ? / Lidia Yuknavitch, "The Chronology of Water: a Memoir" / ?
the-year-i-met-you
ruhlare
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metamorphesque

— Vladimir Nabokov, Letters to Véra 

[I love you. Infinitely and inexpressibly. I’ve woken up in the middle of the night and here I am writing this. My love, my happiness.]
the-year-i-met-you
letsbelonelytogetherr
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letsbelonelytogetherr

“I sit with my grief. I mother it. I hold its small, hot hand. I don't say, shhh. I don't say, it is okay. I wait until it is done having feelings. Then we stand and we go wash the dishes. We crack open bedroom doors, step over the creaks, and kiss the children. We are sore from this grief, like we've returned from a run, like we are training for a marathon. I'm with you all the way, says my grief, whispering, and then we splash our face with water and stretch, one big shadow and one small.”

— callista buchen

the-year-i-met-you
persephoneshellhounds
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petaltexturedskies

I feel unspeakably lonely. And I feel - drained. It is a blank state of mind and soul I cannot describe to you as I think it would not make any difference. Also it is a very private feeling I have - that of melting into a perpetual nervous breakdown. I am often questioning myself what I further want to do, who I further wish to be; which parts of me, exactly, are still functioning properly. No answers, darling. At all.

Anne Sexton
the-year-i-met-you
ashstfu
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sketiana

poetry is a fundamental food group if you dont read a decent poem once or twice a month you get soul anemic bone tired and all that