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*flirting* sorry about the blood in my mouth i wish it was yours
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Mary Oliver, Long Life: Essays and Other Writings
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[...] I’m so pathetically intense. I just can’t be any other way.
Sylvia Plath, The Letters of Sylvia Plath: Volume I: 1940 - 1956 — Edward Cohen, c. 11th September 1950
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John Keats, from a letter to Fanny Brawne, 27 July 1819
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Susan Sontag, As Consciousness Is Harnesses To Flesh
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“As we drive back down the mountain road we are sleepy from the heat, and so full from all the bananas. A tropical thunderstorm has started, so loud we can’t hear ourselves speak, so we don’t. It’s warm and my skin is damp. I think I smell like the rainforest. Maybe my body of water is the rainforest or the whole city in the rain; maybe my rivers are all these small waterfalls. I can’t see anything outside through the mist except occasional flashes of banana tree fields. I keep looking back until they disappear.”
— Nina Mingya Powles, Tiny Moons: A Year of Eating in Shanghai
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Let's not talk. We're not good at it. With you I am useless with words. As if somehow I had to learn to speak all over again, as if the words I needed haven't been invented yet. We're cowards. Come back to bed. At least there I feel I have you for a little. For a moment. For a catch of the breath. You let go. You ache and tug. You rip my skin.
Sandra Cisneros, Vintage Cisneros
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Prelude, Brynne Rebele-Henry
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FENDI Spring 2021 Couture
Designed by Kim Jones.
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