I understood not having your heart
I understood not being lovers,
I cant understand
Not having your hand,
We were friends…
Before this began,
Please don’t forget
We were friends,
This was double the heartbreak
Please come back again,
Even if just once
Hold my hand.
Wait for me and I will do the same. See you when God says “It’s time.” ❤
Carve your name on hearts; not tombstones.
A legacy is etched into the minds of others and the stories they share about you!
“There’s little in taking or giving
There’s little in water or wine
This living, this living , this living
was never a project of mine.
Oh, hard is the struggle, and sparse is
the gain of the one at the top
for art is a form of catharsis
and love is a permanent flop
and work is the province of cattle
and rest’s for a clam in a shell
so I’m thinking of throwing the battle
would you kindly direct me to hell?”
Sometimes we choose to stay at the same place hoping that they will come back. Yes, hoping.
I don’t even know if this is real or a dream anymore.
I am extremely grateful for you taking a place in my dream.
Though in real life, i’d rather not fight.
Because i will lose, i am not in place to lose myself for the umpteenth times
Dearest lover, please find me when I’m whole again
She was my girl and now she’s sleeping in your arms.
And just like that, in the blink of an eye, everything has changed. Me, my dreams, my idea of you. 💔
𝐕𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐞𝐛𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 !
𝐑𝐞𝐟 : 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝟑 𝐏𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐁𝐢𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐢
30/05/2020 7:14PM / I keep trying to confess to a crime I can no longer name. I grew my mind/life around it — like a Poe character or Genet character or Genet himself (or perhaps, even a parasite?). Of course, I am talking about love and what’s more: a love that was never meant to be or happen or ever exist [the love that haunts], the old cliche, and like the old cliche, of course, it did happen, which was beautiful and tragic all at once. Picture: roses, lots and lots of roses, pink and oregold, and then also a thousand kisses and a hundred more and then — why the hell would you waste them, they’d say. That’s what I did. Life imitates art, yes? — no, that is a trap. You’re in terrible danger when you start to live your art. It is better to write [be outside/detached] than become a puppet, a character, a bead-eyed doll, and yes, it still feels like that, even now. I feel like I have become somebody else’s Dream, somebody else’s Creature — that is, when I get vulnerable and it’s hard to escape like now or pretty much any time when my eyes/heart is soft. Venus Rx is doing this to me, I’ve been told. At times like this I feel as if I’ve lost my personal [emotional] agency and have been sentenced to life lived through the eye [the heart] of the Other, or rather: the Beholder, the Beloved. (Perhaps the real cause of this is that I have eaten Him or He’s eaten me, and now there is no real difference and I can no longer tell where I begin and He ends which makes me feel insane). It’s exhausting to get your heart broken on repeat (over and over and over again) so I keep scratching at the walls, the yellow wallpaper, in search of freedom [relentless]. This is all this ever was about. God, yes, I loved but I want out.
Call Me By Your Name - André Aciman
Sometimes I think, did I also leave curiosity to you? Or you just didn’t really give a damn about me.
Life gives us choices.
You either grab on with both hands and just go for it… or you sit on the sidelines!
Idk who else needs to hear this, but I did 🙋♀️ There is a time for everything
…its because I can’t run to you, to the one who made me feel like my tears were worth something, rather than meaningless drops of solitude.
Ironic, because now I’m only able to gift you my tears, whereas I’d want to share a bundle of happiness.
But believe me, I would if I felt some. I would run to you without a worry in the world, but its because I have never had anything else to offer but my tears, that I can’t run to you.