-Mahmoud Darwish, From "In The Presence Of Absence," Originally Published In 2006

Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Lath

Their was before you and their was during you. For some reason I never thought their will be after you, but their was and I was in it.

-Colleen Hoover // Reminders of him

I want to go to a place where people asks me if I ever fell in love and I don't start talking about my heartbreak

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 //

In all the colours I expected love to be, it was not what I got . I thought love will be the dawn colours. The warmness of orange that at the end of the day being with your lover will ease the scars , the calmness of blue that doesn't matter how complicated the situation is we will get over it , the assurance of lavender that it will all heal, the sweetness of pink that no matter what love will make everything right and even the yellow that doesn't matter what at the end love will win, but for me love was the colour of silver. Too shinny and perfect from afar but from close it was the colour no one will choose. The colour of coldness, the colour which will left you numb. The colour which will leave you in the state of being non-committal.

So who's gonna meet me behind the mall this August?

Here is my hand, he said Here is my hand that will not harm you.

— Louise Glück Epithalamium from "Descending Figure.”

— Louise Glück Epithalamium from "Descending Figure.”

We heal up through being loved, and through loving others. We don't heal by forming a secret society of one - by assessing about the only other 'one' we might admit, and being doomed to disappointment.

Jeanette Winterson, Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal?