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#longing
forlornalbatross · a day ago
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My only grief is without you --windswept with melancholic throbs -
D C de Oliveira from Forlornly "Barren" | September 16 2021, 3.49am . Thursday
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Lena Janssen
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metamorphesque · 3 months ago
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1. Meg Day 2. Haruki Murakami 3. Edouard Labrosse 4. Rainer Maria Rilke 5. Ron Hicks 6. Virginia Woolf 7. Joan Didion 8. Ron Hicks 9. Sylvia Plath 10. Anne Magill 11. Franz Kafka 12. Peter Wever 13. Vi Khi Nao 14. Peter Wever 15. Anna Akhmatova
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Crush by Richard Siken // Two Girls in Bed by Henri De Toulouse-Lautrec // “Washing Machine Heart” by Mitski // David Altmejd // Wasted by Marya Hornbacher // Embrace Painting by Peter Wever
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heart-break-beat-mlm · a year ago
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the intimacy of being tired together. a head on a chest while falling asleep to the thump thump thump of your love’s heart. those delirious giggles you get directed at nothing in particular. to be wrapped in a cocoon of blankets on a cold winter’s night, bodies as close and intertwined as humanly possible to keep warm. there’s nothing i want more than to drift off in the arms of the one i love.
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thinkingimages · 2 months ago
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You see the first thing we love is a scene. For love at first sight requires the very sign of its suddenness; and of all things, it is the scene which seems to be seen best for the first time: a curtain parts and what had not yet ever been seen is devoured by the eyes: the scene consecrates the object I am going to love. The context is the constellation of elements, harmoniously arranged that encompass the experience of the amorous subject... Love at first sight is always spoken in the past tense. The scene is perfectly adapted to this temporal phenomenon: distinct, abrupt, framed, it is already a memory (the nature of a photograph is not to represent but to memorialize)... this scene has all the magnificence of an accident: I cannot get over having had this good fortune: to meet what matches my desire. The gesture of the amorous embrace seems to fulfill, for a time, the subject's dream of total union with the loved being: The longing for consummation with the other... In this moment, everything is suspended: time, law, prohibition: nothing is exhausted, nothing is wanted: all desires are abolished, for they seem definitively fulfilled... A moment of affirmation; for a certain time, though a finite one, a deranged interval, something has been successful: I have been fulfilled (all my desires abolished by the plenitude of their satisfaction).
Roland Barthes, A Lover's Discourse: Fragments
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feral-ballad · 2 days ago
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There is not one moment without longing,
Ono No Komachi, tr. by Jane Hirshfield and Mariko Oratani, from The Ink Dark Moon Love Poems by Ono No Komachi and Izumi Shikibu
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liamiamm · a year ago
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Not to be gay on main.... But all I want is to live in a small medieval town. I'm the town baker. My bakery is my home and I'm always wearing an apron and covered in flour.
Nextdoor is a forge, and I am very close with the blacksmith that works there. Every morning I bring him a freshly baked loaf of bread. As I hand it to him our hands touch briefly. His hands are rough, yet they're so careful and gentle with everything he touches. I secretly want him to be that gentle with me.
One day, he walks into my bakery, he's still sweaty from the intense heat of the forge. In his hands is a small dagger in it's sheath. He hands it to me and tells me it's to protect myself if needed.
I take the dagger out of it's sheath. It's beautifully made. There are intricate designs engraved into the metal. It's so much more complicated than anything else yeah blacksmith has ever made. It must've been so time consuming to make.
I look up at him and with just one look I understand why he's giving it to me. With one look we both understand that we love each other. He leans in and kisses me. It's so soft and sweet, and gentle.
He comes by every day to get a loaf of bread and kiss me. We keep our relationship a secret. And everyone wonders why neither of us have found wives. But we know exactly why. And we're completely content with being secret lovers.
Is that really too much to ask?
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memoryslandscape · 11 months ago
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I am not praying. I'm longing: Please.
Meg Day, from “There’s Snow in the West,” Last Psalm at Sea Level (Barrow Street Press, 2018)
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