The Winter, Alexandre Calame, 1851

To be loved means to be consumed. To love means to radiate with inexhaustible light. To be loved is to pass away, to love is to endure.

—Rainer Maria

hii ik we don’t interact much, but i just want to say that i love seeing u pop up in my notifs !

i also really love ur poetry. i totally resonate w the emotions being conveyed :^) please don’t ever stop writing !!! <3

❤️ aww, thank you! the support is really appreciated! much love to you as well!!

How to Save Your Own Life, Erica Jong

northern lights photographed from space

Vincent Van Gogh's painting details

the screaming that bounces around the inside of my skull is back to grace me with its presence. guttural and keening and feral.

i take another sip from my soda can and pretend i do not hear it, because to let it out into the world, where it would transform from visceral agony to banal noise, would be worse than enduring it silently. at least this way i can still feel it. at least this way no one else has to.

And the grass where you lay left a bed in your shape

Here’s a video so you can hear the water and the thrushes. I took it for you because you couldn’t be there. <3

was it not enough that you stole

my heart, my lungs, and spine?

i do not have the stomach for it anymore.