anenlighteningellipsis reblogged
desireforart-deactivated2015081
I am looking for a word from you.
I’ve combed the landscape of my body,
I’ve traveled its dark rivers.
I’ve looked under the cloud of my heart,
unraveled its complicated net of veins.
I’ve found plenty of blue material here-
why don’t you write?
Sidney Wade, Ink
anenlighteningellipsis reblogged
oh,
my love is a wind-wet quarry; is the color
I become when I am no longer thirsty;
Tarfia Faizullah, from “The Color I Become,” published in Southern Humanities Review
Source: southernhumanitiesreview.com
anenlighteningellipsis reblogged
Shall I tell you what you’ve given me? On that very first day, a little bottle of perfume made me feel important. You were my first friend. And then when you fell in love with me … I was so proud. And when I came home, I needed something to make me feel proud, and your camellias arrived and I knew you were thinking about me. Oh, I could’ve walked into a den of lions.
#ffffuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu#uuuuuuuuuuuuuuu#uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck#rip me#i can't handle these two - this - in my raw fragile state#why do i subject myself to such things when i know this ??#because i must#in order to come through the pain#to transcend it#perhaps...#***#ac#k#rêves sans espoir#just carve my heart out with a silver spoon#now voyager#paul henreid#bette davis#film#to see if there's a pub#la douleur exquise
anenlighteningellipsis reblogged
memoryslandscape-deactivated202
It’s getting harder
to live without
faith, or you,
or whatever
we choose to call
what calls
to us in the quiet.
Kevin Young, from “Book Rate,” Dear Darkness: Poems
anenlighteningellipsis reblogged
she’s got
a rose
in her smile.
Hope Sandoval, Charlotte
anenlighteningellipsis reblogged
metaphorformetaphor
A white breeze was rising toward the hills
and the sun spilled its last gold upon your hair,
oh sad part of me, do you remember?
Roberto Sosa, from ”Under the Sea,” Return of the River
anenlighteningellipsis reblogged
fromanotherroom
I’ll Be Seeing You playing from another room Billie Holiday
anenlighteningellipsis reblogged
I don’t know how you are so familiar to me—or why it feels less like I am getting to know you and more as though I am remembering who you are. How every smile, every whisper brings me closer to the impossible conclusion that I have known you before, I have loved you before—in another time, a different place, some other existence.
Lang Leav
anenlighteningellipsis reblogged
Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.
Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights
anenlighteningellipsis reblogged
I had words that I wished to say to you across the void.
Anne Sexton - from A Self-Portrait in Letters
anenlighteningellipsis reblogged
Deep in earth my love is lying And I must weep alone.
Edgar Allan Poe
In February 1847, Poe’s young wife Virginia died of consumption. Poe was devastated by her death and penned these words.
anenlighteningellipsis reblogged
metaphorformetaphor
My longing
was ruby-colored. I wore it
around my neck, and everything
was drunkenness and dance, every day
a kind of drowning—
Zeina Hashem Beck, from “I Dreamt We Threw Bread Crumbs,” Louder Than Hearts: Poems
anenlighteningellipsis reblogged
it’s your voice
that undresses me.
violentwavesofemotion-deactivat
You can’t touch anything without turning it into an angel.
Anne Sexton, from a letter to Stanley Kunitz featured in A Self-Portrait In Letters
anenlighteningellipsis reblogged
My God, does love ever die? I ask, and will die asking.
Anaïs Nin, from Nearer the Moon: The Previously Unpublished Unexpurgated Diary, 1937-1939