mirinaes

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"Having a Coke with You" from The Collected Poems of Frank O'Hara (1971)

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– Maggie Smith, from "Good Bones"

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mutual devotion,

mutual obsession,

mutual worship>>>

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Franz Kafka, from a letter to Felice Bauer written in 1912, featured in Letters To Felice

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FINAL LAMENT OF THE HERO'S HEART

i love you. doesn't that mean anything? of course it does. it means everything, don't you know?

and you love me. you know i do. it isn't a question. not even now. not from you.

you promised me forever. was that a lie? i meant it. i still mean it. my love is yours forever. for as long as my broken heart beats, and beyond.

but you're going to leave anyway. i have to. i'm sorry. i would stay if i could. but somewhere out there lies a gravestone waiting already with my name written on it ( but not yours, and i thank whoever is listening for that ) and i do not have the strength to uncarve a stone.

why you? why do we have to be the tragedy? because the gods are cruel, or at least uncaring. because the earth is parched with bloodthirst. because all the other lovers who were tragedies asked the same question and received no answers.

but i love you. and you love me. my broken heart, if love were enough to change the story there would be no tragedies left in this world.

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the saddest universe

the saddest universe is not the one where i love you but you do not love me.

the saddest universe is not the one where i love you and you love me but the gravity of fate tugs us apart.

the saddest universe is not even this one where i love you and you love me and we lose each other over and over and over and over and over again.

in the saddest universe we have never walked in the same place at the same time.

in the saddest universe i have never seen my eyes mirrored in yours and you have never felt your fingers brush against mine.

in all the infinite possibilities of time and space and fate this is a universe where i know the color of your eyes and the shape of your name on my lips and the echo of your voice in my bones.

and for that i am grateful to the kindness of this universe no matter how many times we must lose each other over and over and over and over and over again.

at least in this universe we have something to lose.

- by sylvie (j.p.)

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oh, these blue-eyed boys, these firestorm boys with constellations in their teeth, these back alley boys with bloody knuckles and painted smirks, these snowfall boys with quiet rage and quieter hopes.

pity these blue-eyed boys gave mercy on these blue-eyed boys because the world will have no mercy for them and they are born with almost etched in their bones.

he almost loved him. he almost kissed him. he almost held him.

he almost followed him. he almost stopped him. he almost caught him.

he almost saved him. he almost made it. he almost came home.

he almost—      he almost—           they almost—

they almost had a chance.

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you were a touch of lips that breathed air into my stuttering lungs an arm around my shoulders that sparked my fluttering heart a first-aid kit stitching my anger back together a cool press of fingers swiping gentle against the fever and then you were the whisper of a bullet guarding my six the glint of a sniper scope that struck hope, not fear the heavy march of boots always right behind mine

it was you. it was you. it was always you.

and i always knew i would have died a hundred times over without you.

you are echoes in the empty chambers of my heart screams in the air that clamour in my lungs a nightmare repeating like a skipping record you are still seventy years of empty spaces a ghost that still lives and breathes and screams a memory that lingers in my every footstep

i never did learn how to live without you.

and i should have known when my heart stubbornly kept on beating that you were not gone.

- by sylvie (j.p.)

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Nathaniel Orion G. K. / 11.21.24

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Savannah Brown, from Closer Baby Closer; “Notes on your dramatic exit from the house party”

[Text ID: “OH YOU DO LOVE THEM / YOU DO / JUST NOT / IN THE WAY THAT LETS BOTH OF YOU LIVE”]

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Caitlyn Siehl, from What We Buried; “The Mural”

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Caitlyn Siehl, from What We Buried; “For the dinner table”

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Caitlyn Siehl, from What We Buried; “Desperate”

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Anaïs Nin, Little Birds