Rainer Maria Rilke, Sonnets to Orpheus: First Part (XXV) (tr. J.B. Leishman)
How will you remember me ?
Will you remember me
By the times I told you I loved you or by the times that I showed you the same?
Cause if it's former geez I'm sorry, I hope you reminisce the latter.
Will you remember me
When you see my favorite flower or by the scent of my favorite perfume?
If it's the former I left you a plant and the latter in a box among your clothes.
Will you remember me
By the silly fights i picked or by the number of times I apologized?
If it's former or the latter, maybe you should remember me by something else.
Will you remember me
By my imperfections, will you remember all of my flaws?
I hope it's both former and latter, cause those are the parts of me that loved you the most.
Will you remember me
When you play our videos or will you hear my voice as you read this?
If it's former you better save it forever, if it's later I wish it never fades.
Will you remember me
After a year, will you remember us after a decade?
I tried to leave back pieces of me, because I'm scared of you forgetting the latter.
💫🧡
“Whatever causes night in your soul may leave stars.”
— Victor Hugo
when stephen chbosky wrote "we accept the love we think we deserve" and hanya yanagihara wrote "x = x, he thinks. x = x, x = x."
Ok no offense, but some of us *looks pointedly at self in mirror* need to fucking chill
Sunshine In Disguise 🌤
Standing in the middle of a crowd
struggling to find my sound
I put my heart on a silver platter,
every wound unbound.
Endlessly wanting to do furthermore,
to feel a sense of belonging.
Until one day, I was worn out
wishing for an exemption from that longing.
It took me ages to comprehend
that it takes only one soul
willing to give you a corner of their heart,
to pull you out of that black hole.
Someone who'll sit with you
until you're ready to talk.
Someone you can hold on to
until you're ready to walk.
They'll give you an unfeigned smile,
the one that reaches their eyes.
And that is how you'll know
that's your sunshine in disguise.
“You can’t read that book in a day”
I learned kintsugi so I could fix my favorite broken mug.
The art that meant golden joinery,
Golden repair.
But I never thought about what it meant.
Why would I? I fixed my mug.
Until I broke,
Until I saw cracks within people that I love.
That was the moment I realized
Kintsugi isn't just for fixing ceramics
It is not to say what didn't kill you made you stronger.
It is to show what didn't kill you is now a part of your story.
A significant piece of who you are.
For better or worse,
whether it made you stronger, weaker, or traumatized,
It's. Still. You.
So we pick up the broken pieces of ourselves and the ones we love
And we put it back together with golden glue,
As best as we can.
We assure our loved ones not to conceal their scars
We promise them the glued parts aren't ugly.
That the cracks are now like a golden vein,
a vein through which ichor flows.
The same ichor that Gods bled is now,
Keeping us immortal for a while.