Quotes added on Tuesday, August 30 2016

Dare to be different. The world is full of the ordinary.
Then I understood that when someone begins to tell you her story, you are entwined together. Perhaps even more so if the ending hasn’t been divulged. It was exactly like dreaming the same dream, then waking too soon and never finding out what had happened.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example, ‘The night is shattered
and the blue stars shiver in the distance.’

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me sometimes, and I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is shattered and she is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight searches for her as though to go to her.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another's. She will be another's. Like my kisses before.
Her voide. Her bright body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.

—Pablo Neruda, Tonight I Can Write the Saddest Lines

The lights come off
a shower-glass from
the ceiling, undress
your costume flesh.

I toss my skin-laundry
in your sleep-figure direction,
and you catch it
guts and all, you catch it
every time when
I’ve always dropped the ball.

In the dark
with our clothes on
is the most naked
we’ve ever been, yet
you’ve never believed
in monsters, have you?
The mirror of me
we lose sleep about.

Tell me 2 AM
doesn’t smell like
regret, tell me
the dawning isn’t something
you don’t wanna
wake up to.

When the lights come back
you know, my mouth will
stop spitting lies. Again
but whether I am dripping
saliva over tempers, or
begging apologies of a new
day - I am unsure.

I am unsure which version
of me I am,
anymore.
— 2 AM AND LIGHTS OFF

format-br0kenwings LEAVE THIS HERE PLEASE.







All the people who love me
TURN INTO MONSTERS.

© format coded by: br0kenwings
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Image is from tumblr, original photographer unknown.


WE WERE NOT LOVERS
WE WERE LOVE.

I’ve been taught that love is beautiful and kind, but it isn’t like that at all. It is beautiful, but it’s a terrible beauty, a ruthless one, and you fall – you fall, and the thing is – The thing is you want to. You don’t care what’s coming, you just want who your heart beats for.

There were grief and ruins,
and you were the miracle.

The worst memories stick with us,
while the nice ones always seem to slip through our fingers.

Human beings often display emotion they do not feel. And they often feel emotion they do not display. That’s a description of me all right. I keep myself locked as a box when it matters, and broken open when it doesn’t matter at all.

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