He pretends as though he doesn't care while I long for him, desperation filling my lungs. Our eyes find each other, and it's just the two of us. Unspoken words threaten to leave our bodies at any moment. Errors and differences are so vast between us that we are unable to get past them. And then we both pretend it doesn't mean anything more when he calls me by my name.
- @journalsofsarila
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adult pink
soft;
soft curves
of your side profile
like the children's slide
at the center of the mall's
"special sale" aisle
cushion-y and cute
but will take a
young mind
on adventures
of sailing
over the moon
soft like,
the
lowercase letters
that weave this
pathetic, pretentious poem,
that keeps its
cutting, craggy edges
from tearing me
apart, into a
viscous, vulnerable
mess,
oozing with
pus and love,
hate and blood
forming clots
of desire and hurt;
soft
that carries
the rot of my undead,
flourishing fungi
on my back
and gives birth
to dandelions
with offspring
heavy with greed
they don't fly
but feed
and feed
and feed.
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On earth we are briefly gorgeous.
I ask you what makes monsters and you tell me they have always been. Lonesome creatures of lacking love and isolation of which were never meant to be cruel. I ask you what makes monsters and you tell me they are made in creators hands of everything they have always known. Mothers that abandon the womb and touch all that they have known in senses and sight.
Monsters are a strange word, you and I who were never meant to hurt and became poisoned in all that beheld it, monsters imply more than one - you and I share some.
I catch your eye and see the grotesque understanding of what you have created - you forgive like the Old Testament.
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Farewell Mr Stranger!!
I used to miss you every now and then.Now, I think about you all the time.But, there are some differences.Before,I used to smile whenever you crossed my mind.Now, I feel disgusted.Memories we made so beautifully together, All are shattered now.Memories that I used to cherish before,Have started hurting me now.You have ruined everything.You used to be a beautiful chapter in my life’s story.Now, I…
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religion is one of the most prominent recurring themes on the album, and it has been present in some capacity for quite a few records now. taylor previously compared love to religion: her saving grace, her belief system, and a fated divine intervention (false god, cornelia street, and cruel summer are the best examples of this). ‘sacred new beginnings that became my religion’ and ‘we’d still worship this love even if it’s a false god’ are two of the defining statements about her philosophy on the lover album.
taylor doesn’t want to leave all of that behind on ttpd, at least not at the beginning. the first supernatural force she mentions is the spaceship on down bad, which she compares to a skylight of freedom in the epilogue. *something* has finally come to save her from her life of suffering. she doesn’t care if it’s a force of good at first; if anything, she’s just fine being taken away by aliens. she views this man as her destiny. it isn’t until guilty as sin? that taylor starts to ponder the moral implications of what she’s doing. is she guilty as sin for wanting to leave her previous religion and relationship behind? she comes to the conclusion that, even if she rolls the stone away and gets resurrected/redeemed, she cannot avoid the fallout. she is okay with the thought of having to wait, as long as both lovers vow to be together forever, just as she once did with someone else in false god. ‘I choose you and me religiously’ finishes the bridge of the song in a direct callback to cornelia street.
the next mention of religion has murkier imagery. she claims that she does not need the Lord’s help to save this man. she sees the halo that he has, and she can fix him herself. now that she feels free of her prior cage, she isn’t looking for divine intervention anymore. she wants control. she is their route to salvation.
when the relationship falls apart, she retreats back into the position of a believer rather than a divine figure. she compares him to a Holy Ghost who promised to save her and take her to heaven. instead, she is in hell in every sense of the word: she’s down bad and feels guilty for digging up the grave. he was a jehovah’s witness who promised that she could break free of the cage imposed by love without changing her religion altogether; she would’ve just had to switch denominations. she could still have a marriage and kids! she could still have a blue tortured poet! the man was different, but not the dreams they had together. the story of the first part of the album ends here. her faith has been broken, and she has only found any semblance of sanity by refusing to mention these belief systems altogether.
side b/the anthology blends the christian imagery of side a with goddesses, sorcerers, and prophecies. she bargains with these powers to let her have the future she wants (the prophecy). she doesn’t sound like someone believing in salvation. if anything, she feels cursed. she decides that the concept of divinely ordained timing will never work in certain relationships (‘the goddess of timing once found us beguiling / she said she was trying / peter, was she lying?’). this disdain extends onto her perception of other people’s faith (‘bet they never spared a prayer for my soul’). she does position herself as a prophet in cassandra, but even then, she admits that the role has hurt her. perhaps the pain in thank you aimee was meant to be, or perhaps she was just strong enough to build a legacy in spite of it, boulder by boulder. is she a martyr? does she want to be? or did she save herself?
the only real love song on this half of the album makes no mention of fate or any divine forces. it wasn’t meant to be. it’s not a supernatural invisible string or lightning in a bottle. she is just in love.
the album ends with the manuscript, which revisits an old story of a defining, formative heartbreak. as she sings ‘at last, she knew what the agony had been for’ while describing the legacy of her writing, she seems to revert to thinking about the purpose of trauma. the only exception is that, in this case, she is the one who found meaning in her pain by turning it into a manuscript. writing is her belief system now, and she proselytizes by telling her stories and thus giving up the manuscript.
ultimately, her belief in destiny has chewed her up and spat her out. she so desperately clung to her existing belief systems that she was fooled by a conman, which left her feeling cursed. religion is supposed to be with someone even in their darkest moments, but the album explains that taylor often felt abandoned. the only constant in her life was, well, herself. she’ll be okay, but her pen will be her saving grace.
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