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Finally learning to love again and it’s bittersweet leaving you behind, forever grateful for you and the lessons left imprinted on my heart and mind, most days i feel fine, sometimes however I still can’t h myself yearning to rewind the clocks of time, for it comes in waves and occasionally it feels like im digging up old graves, sifting through the mud and dirt sorting through the pain and the hurt. Carefully examining the bones wondering if I will one day yet again possibly feel at home, in the arms of a new lover will I ever feel happy and whole and safe ? Or is it perhaps another dissociated escape ? New flesh, new arms, new eyes the thrills and chills of sweet hellos and sappy goodbyes. Will this new found love fill this giant hole I have dug within myself ? Will this sweet warm feeling stay or will it simply fade away, I adore his warmth always somehow radiating heat bewitched by the unfamiliar sound of this new heartbeat, still at times I feel I am 6 feet deep clinging to the fragile bones of the past, reminded that nothing warm and soft and full of flesh will last
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“I could not escape from you. My soul favors you endlessly.””
— Margaret Atwood
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"Well, let it pass; April is over, April is over. There are all kinds of love in the world, but never the same love twice."
– F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Short Stories
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i've been searching for you behind lavender and sunflower fields, behind tulip and peony valleys, behind snapdragon and zinnia farms. i've been searching for you in various gardens but your heart was planted elsewhere.
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Fall through the ice
Just to see the other side
Be vulnerable for the first time
The cold leaves no place to hide
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why is wanting and needing things so humiliating like yes i do need a hug so what whatever die kys dont look at me i hope you blow up youre nothing leave me alone
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I reach for your hand
but it slips through mine like mist,
now lost to the night.
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“Just in case you ever foolishly forget; I’m never not thinking of you.”
— Virginia Woolf, Selected Diaries
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“It’s all messy: the hair, the bed, the words, the heart. Life.”
— Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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“It’s the things we love most, that destroy us.”
— Suzanne Collins
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“My heart is crowded full of foolish thoughts Like early flowers in an April meadow, And I must give them to you, all of them, Before they fade.”
— Sara Teasdale, from “A November Night”
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