You’ve waited far too long
for someone to color your heart with tenderness,
to hang love like art on the bare walls of your soul.
But time slipped through like candlelight,
and in the quiet,
dust gathered where laughter should’ve lived,
cobwebs clung to dreams left untouched.
Still, you wait—
romantic, patient, aching—
a heart dressed in longing,
hoping love will one day come
and call this place home.
Pick your poison babe, I’m poison either way
To be alive is to dance on the edge of oblivion, to feel the weight of existence pressing down upon us, even as we reach for the stars.
I desire nothing. Truly. My gut burns with lust for nothingness in its purest form.
— ( @songs-of-venus )
Me after coming back to this hellsite after 9 years
Fuck restaurants and arcades.
Take my hand and bring me here for our first date.
I can make no sense of the water inside me
𝑇h𝑖s i𝑠 𝑚y l𝑎s𝑡 𝑙o𝑣e l𝑒t𝑡e𝑟 𝑡o y𝑜u, 𝑡h𝑜u𝑔h s𝑜m𝑒 𝑤o𝑢l𝑑 𝑐a𝑙l i𝑡 𝑎 𝑐o𝑛f𝑒s𝑠i𝑜n.
I s𝑢p𝑝o𝑠e b𝑜tℎ 𝑎r𝑒 𝑎 𝑠o𝑟t o𝑓 𝑔e𝑛t𝑙e v𝑖o𝑙e𝑛c𝑒, p𝑢t𝑡i𝑛g d𝑜w𝑛 𝑖n i𝑛k wℎa𝑡 𝑠c𝑜r𝑐h𝑒s tℎe a𝑖r wℎe𝑛 𝑠p𝑜k𝑒n a𝑙o𝑢d.
A Dowry of Blood, S.T. Gibson
𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚍𝚐𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚜, 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚜
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