The heart is supposed to fall
In love,
And for someone
But mine is quiet,
Still at it’s place
It doesn’t beat in sync with someone’s
But it beats for me
I’m not giving it up
But wear it on my sleeve
And treat it gently
Sylvia Plath, from a journal entry featured in "The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath,"
— Virginia Woolf
“Can you remember who you were, before the world told you who you should be?”
— Charles Bukowski
“I want you always to remember me. Will you remember that I existed, and that I stood next to you here like this?”
— Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood
Charles Bukowski, "young men," from What Matters Most is How Well You Walk through the Fire
Streetlamp light disturbs the midnight time
Distorted shadow, running along the asphalt
It might be mine
to live. to live forever.
●a way to let go of my thoughts because I fear they might crush me● ||they/them||
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