#(i carry it in my heart)

[howifeltabouthim]

I kept the memory of our parting safe, hoarding it as a sign of unspoken feeling. All summer long, I talked to his ghost, telling the shadow what I had wanted to tell the man.

Siri Hustvedt, from The Blindfold

[sugurusmoon]

Conversations with my dead beloved

Him: “Would you have peeled an orange for me?”

Me: “Are you seriously asking me that? After everything?

I would have peeled a pomegranate for you.

Fuck, I would have swallowed the seeds whole and followed you straight into hell, the juices on my lips staining yours with my kiss.”

Him: (sighing) “You’re utterly hopeless, you know that, right?”

Me: “I’m not the one who is dead.”

Him: “You’re the one still talking to me 5 years later. Your romanticism knows no limits.”

Me: “Neither does my love…”

Him: “I know…I am the one who’s dead.”

[minimalistartshop]

I Carry Your Heart I Carry It In My Heart – E.E. Cummings Poem with Heart Flowers – Typography Print

Experience the beauty of love and art with our captivating “I Carry Your Heart I Carry It In My Heart” E.E. Cummings Quote Typography Art Print. This exquisite piece combines the timeless words of Cummings with a vibrant and intricately painted heart adorned with delicate flowers. It’s a celebration of love, emotions, and artistic expression that will elevate your space.

[bookshelfdreams]

yk when you see someone share a finished handmade item that they clearly spent a lot of time and money on and it's just. The absolute tackiest thing you have seen in your life. And then you ask yourself why someone would waste all those resources on such an eyesore.

(no, of course you can't relate to that because you're a much nicer person than me)

In any case.

BEHOLD!

A wool coat!

The top fabric is handwoven and handspun, the whole thing is sewn by hand, too.

Leftovers. Barely anything, all things considered, which is very satisfying.

This thing took me well over 3 years to make, on and off. And now I'm done.

Thank you for your attention.

[ruporas]

captain's warm hugs! (id in alt)

[hyunpic]

hyunjin talker go: le gala des pièces jaunes

[orpheuslament]

If Beale Street Could Talk, James Baldwin

[stil-lindigo]

into the hobie-verse! (inspired by all the hobie concept art)

prints

[parisoonic]

Rubbin it in.

[howifeltabouthim]

You're shrunk and bottled in a glass jar, you're a portable saint.

Chris Kraus, from I Love Dick

[sugurusmoon]

Tw: trauma, NSFW, Implied sexual content, mention of suicide death and loss, grief, blood, pain, teeth

Never an angel

Never a goddess

but he prayed at my feet as if I were,

kisses red as stigmata wounds,

murmurs containing vows to my inner thighs

the litany on his lips hummed over and over was my name, imploring me to be his benevolent deity

Secretly we both knew he coveted the slow burn, like a moth to a flame

Stoking a cinder that barely flickers

Chanting eulogies to his sanity as it went up in flames

And I let him. Hells, I drove him to it

I all but gave him the map leading him to the center of this labyrinth inferno, where I’d lie in wait, tracking his progress with my gaze

Teeth bared in a wolfish smile,

Pupils blown out black as lust, enticing as a new moon, consumed with euphoria when he’d draw nearer to his little death and bring me to my own…

Sobbing into my chest and the crook of my neck, skin crashing like waves into my skin, bodies crashing like continents in a cataclysmic upheaval, reshaping the terrain of our worlds with each rush towards our unified desire, forcing, shifting, heated as volcanic magma flowing just under the surface, sweat pouring like rivers carving out pathways down, down, down… smashing lips, tongues, teeth, a taste of iron and copper, salt and water, the sting of a bite, blooming purple and red bruised petals on skin, where we claimed our territories. Then the roar of blood and passion and the release… of everything… how did I find this perfect man…

Two strong arms grasping every single inch of flesh they can find purchase of within their fingertips and palms, cradling me, reverently, rocking me, into and through and past our release… I have never been touched this way before or since…

For 8 years I slept so soundly, in those arms, nearly every single night. For 8 years he taught me to drink at his fountain, overflowing with so much adoration and love, and lust for me, for my body, for my heart, and soul. He took and took and took it, held it captive, he was the most careful thief. I never realized I was actually the one held hostage. He raised me up so high I didn’t realize it meant that it was that much further to fall, because surely, a love like this, would never fall, would never fail…

How long have I been without his worshipful presence…his eyes drifting over me, forcing me to accept his admiration of every part of me, even the parts I hated so much…

Gently taking my arms and holding them firmly at my sides, so he could SEE me, my beloved, never judging, ever worshipful…

Breath hitching, heart squeezing, bursting, chest ripping open with so much fucking LOVE for him, for him, for him, FOR HIM, FOR HIM, FOR HIM ALWAYS FOR HIM.

Still.

Still for him.

Him.

And they ask me, have you moved on?

Don’t you want to?

Aren’t you lonely?

Has the ground opened up and released my heart from its mortal coil? Has the sun set in the east?

Has the earth kissed the moon? Have the stars blinked out into a pitch black sky? Has anything ever gone the right way in my life? To any fruition? To any happy end? To any decent place?

I lash out or laugh bitterly when asked if my heart is healing, or why it will not be moved from its place of mourning him. He was my singular most devoted soulmate of my entire existence, the one who took it upon himself to devour any and all self doubt and replace it, while filling me, overflowing, again and again, with so much fucking LOVE.

Love that endures, even now, despite all the torture and trauma, rage and fear, heartache and loneliness, that his suicidal death has sunk like a knife, razor sharp and deeply, so deeply into my core. Leaving it there. Unable to remove it, lest I bleed to death. Removing it, removing him, is impossible as removing a vital organ such as my own heart. I wax poetic…

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart) < 3

I love you 17 David.

Even now.

Especially now.

[ayyy-imma-ninja]

soooo today's ep, huh QwQ

[goryhorroor]

horror symbols: crucifixes

In horror movies, crosses are often used as protective charms or magical weapons against supernatural enemies, but in horror movies critiquing catholicism, it could mean to a character a tramua of theirs and what is being used to scare them.

[ruporas]

i’ll find you again in every universe. let us be a little more honest, let us have a little more time.

[7cfc00]

home is where the heart is (and yours is gone)

[apticho]

my hope, my star