A Poem About Rain

06.18.22

headed to visit friends for the long weekend ,, i always have such a hard time convincing myself to go places when i get in a routine w school or work, but you gotta take advantage of the time you have ig

🎧: the door is closing - spirit of the beehive

Is life not just a scramble to get things done before a deadline that you don’t even know the time of?

His pillow was wet with salty tears and his eyes were swollen from crying as he woke up. His chapped lips stung with the taste of saltwater. Diana called him.

“What time is it,” he asked, his voice cracking. He hoped she would think he was just tired. She did not.

“It’s just about 8 o’clock. What’s wrong?”

He didn’t say anything but simply hung up. He walked to the South Meadow again, slower than last time. He did not see Theo next to him. After a few minutes sitting at the bench next to the field, he heard a voice behind him.

“You’ll be late to chapel,” it said quietly, worried. Theo popped up in front of him. He tried his best to smile. Theo did not mask the concerned expression on his own face. He noticed a stray tear right under Alexander’s eye, and knelt down to wipe it away. The feeling of his hand on Alexander’s face made his skin tingle. He started to smile honestly. Theo sat down next to him quietly.

It started to rain, and Theo stood up from the bench.

“We’ll be late,” he repeated simply. Alexander walked behind him to chapel.

Italian dialects alignment chart

the feminine urge to visit an old bookstore and find a dried rose between its pages

with my papers not proofread and my manuscripts unfinished, i thread on through the world

Obsessed with the idea of sacrifice in a book being a selfish act rather than a selfless one. Their lover screaming at them: “How dare you leave me in this barren world? How dare you take away my choice to die for you and leave me with this grief?”. They are dead, and their lover is left - a gaping wound - bleeding into the ground. Do they love them so much that they would die for them, or do they love them so much that they forced the other to live without them? Sacrifice as a bitter act. Sacrifice as something wildly violent; something tormentingly cruel — but always, always built on love. Perhaps, they are both martyrs in the end.

Hopes and expectations

Ps: I’m doing a survey on Dark Academia for a university project, if you like DA, I’d be happy to have you do it: https://forms.gle/bhFRX9ivTs9BXXdj8

I dream and I dream and I dream.