Perhaps when we find ourselves wanting everything, it is because we are dangerously close to wanting nothing
I heard you're growing flowers in your garden.
Glad to know that you finally understood
how to take care of violets
Without tearing them apart.
For it being a month already,
I am slowly forgetting your voice, your touch, your eyes
And every beautiful thing about you
Including your bitter sweet lies.
I can't recall your face
Your memories are blurring out
Still here I am standing in the Dark
Repeatedly cleaving and bleeding my old wounds
It's been one year already.
How I left my scarf in your place deliberately,
Wishing you would come back in my life to return it
You didn't and I realise winter will be bitter this year
-dactylicreveries //
-Sylvia Plath, The Letters of Sylvia Plath Volume I: 1940–1956
“She turned to me and said, “hold me”. So I dropped the world I had been holding and picked her up with both hands.”
-Zachary K Douglas
Oh how painful it is to realise how much I love you and to look at your charming eyes just to realise they don't have the love for me anymore
You don't like the bitterness of coffee until you are with the person with whom you have spent eternities together in the past, so the realization hits that it's the only pathway to your memories of childhood.
So you sip the bitterness calmly in hope of turning back time and meeting the daffodils you once grew together in your garden of innocence.....
~s
Brenna twohy from Swallowtell //Sanna Wani, “Who is the Sun, Asking for Sleep?”, My Grief, the Sun // Fortesa Latifi, from The Truth About Grief.
21 /07/23
Life is confusing
Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Lath
Marguerite Duras, from The Easy Life