{image desc.//A poem written on yellowed lined paper with a black pen, the handwriting appears choppy and inconsistent but otherwise neat and slow as if the writer was taking his time practicing his letters, reading “if you ever looked into the water, would my reflection cast onto you? Will there be ripples of time, folding and shaping, Or a calm stir in an otherwise perfected copy of me?“ then the second half is different in style, letters bunched up together and smaller in space with quicker strokes reading “I’m losing you. You’re sailing off to sea, the wind catching your dreams, And I’m the anchor still pressure deep”//}
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to say i miss you doesn't even begin to capture the despair your absence has brought me.
— mae s. (journal entry to the one i still love)
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gentle reminder: it’s safe to let love in 💕❤️🚪💌
instagram
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Grieving, grieving, constantly grieving.
I mourn what could have been, what should have been, what will not be, what I cannot save.
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words by me,
prints available here!
instagram / youtube / twitter
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i never wanted you to leave.
six-word poem.
d.b.a
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{image desc.// lined yellowed paper that looks to be dirty with a short poem written in squished messy handwriting with black pen reading “innocence is pitifully deceptive, remorse will grind over our” the next word is scribbled out with the word “hearts” rewritten above it “and my friend, my dearest friend, No one is as shameful as you.”//}
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I have so much love in me that I would like to cry.
Simone de Beauvoir, Kayleb Rae Candrilli, Sylvia Plath, Clarice Lispector
buy me a coffee
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not to sound traumatized, but it feels unreal that someone can just miss you and want you around so often. I feel like every worry within me keeps repeating, “until when? until when?” and the people I love and that love me confirm, “as long as you’d like.”
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