“Please, let him be soft. I know you made him with gunmetal bones and wolf’s teeth. I know you made him to be a warrior a soldier a hero. But even gunmetal can warp and even wolf’s teeth can dull and I do not want to see him break the way old and worn and overused things do. I do not want to see him go up in flames the way all heroes end up martyrs. I know that you will tell me that the world needs him. The world needs his heart and his faith and his courage and his strength and his bones and his teeth and his blood and his voice and his– The world needs anything he will give them. Damn the world, and damn you too. Damn anyone that ever asked anything of him, damn anyone that ever took anything from him, damn anyone that ever prayed to his name. You know that he will give them everything until there is nothing left of him but the imprint of dust where his feet once trod. You know that he will bear the world like Atlas until his shoulders collapse and his knees buckle and he is crushed by all he used to carry. Dear God, you have already made an Atlas. You have already made an Achilles and an Icarus and a Hercules. You have already made so many heroes, and you can make another again. You can have your pick of heroes. So please, I beg you– he is all that I have, and you have so many heroes and the world has so many more. Let him be soft, and let him be mine.”
— Please, let him be happy ( j.p. )
Ohara Koson (1877-1945) "Night-Heron with Raised Leg Perched on a Willow Branch,"
'We said our goodbyes
And blew the stars out
Like candles'
- ellen everett
Redraw of an old drawing i did a while back :)
not people thinking they can escape heartache. avoiding it at all cost is itself a form of it
People from a planet without flowers would think we must be mad with joy the whole time to have such things about us.
— Iris Murdoch, A Fairly Honourable Defeat” (Chatto & Windus in 1970) (via Thoughts)
cleaning up your own living space: sucks ass
cleaning up a friend or romantic partner's living space: deeply satisfying and even a little entertaining
I understand people that believe in a religion. Isn't every sunset that's partially hidden by an average day's clouds proof of the devine?
Yesterday was a bad day, my apartment was too quiet. Too empty. There was nothing, nothing.
Then suddenly I was turning on lights and they were the perfect shade of yellow and the music from my little speaker hit me so hard I almost cried in the kitchen and those socks I bought kept my feet warm and my warmed-up tortellini were so good with the scrapes of my mom's pesto.
I listened to Billie Eilish and Hozier and The Neighborhood and suddenly they were just people.
Sometimes I lay in bed terrified that I'll stop feeling. Yesterday was not that day.
(She/her) Hullo! I post poetry. Sometimes. sometimes I just break bottles and suddenly there are letters @antagonistic-sunsetgirl for non-poetry
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