― Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals Of Sylvia Plath

Harry: are you taken?

Draco: Yeah, for granted

book dedications are so tender here is this piece of art i made for an audience of thousands. but really every word is for you

FLOWERS AND SCARS

The flowers you once gave

Are now my bookmarks.

Dried and black,

Yet somehow artful.

Like the scars, you left behind

To bookmark

The person I was, and have become.

Dried and black,

Yet somehow hurtful.

(13.11.20)

sometimes i read a book that i just saw and like the cover and then i go on pinterest and discover that i have joined an international cult and thre is no way out of it

in conclusion: it finished me

Malyen Oretsev in Ruin and Rising (Leigh Bardugo)

desperation

A word we borrowed from Latin.

de (without) + sperare (to hope)

forming a word that I'm getting more familiar

with each passing day.

Desperation: to lose hope.

Losing you would be to lose hope,

Because that is what you brought into my life.

That is what you are.

A hope.

A hope that, in your eyes, I'm worthy of love.

A hope that loving someone could feel so easy.

A hope that loving you is a feeling of warm yellow light.

My days pass without being next to you

And each day, that warm yellow light dims a little.

The flowers that slowly bloom in my lungs

when your hands touch me

slowly start to wither without their light.

I feel my heart gradually freeze

into a block of ice

that doesn't melt without your warmth.

Desperation

starts to creep into me with every breath I take.

So my dearest,

I urge you to come,

to hold me until the winter in my heart thaws,

touch me and bring back the spring.

“Words were different when they lived inside of you.”

— Benjamin Alire Sáenz, Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe (via razreads)

Therapy can't fix me, I really need an exorcism

A Vampire Fever Dream. 👀

Centuries ago, one chilly winter night,

You smiled, held my hand in yours to leave behind,

Memories that twists my heart like a dagger,

While I wish my every sigh to be the last one

Since then I searched those amber eyes everywhere,

The color of maple leaves during the fall

I searched for you knowing that you are nowhere

Until I met someone who understood my pain.

Years passed away, and my companions with it.

I stayed the same, and so did our memories.

The only immortal things I've come across.

The living me, and the intangible us.

Now centuries later, this chilly winter

With this lovely human curled up next to me

I feel mortal. Not alive, just plain mortal.

Every second prized, every moment precious

With those same amber eyes, like a setting sun

One that threatened to burn me eons ago.

Have I wished for you often and hard enough?

That you had no other choice but to come back.