When Jeanette Winterson Wrote “i Want To Be Able To Call You. I Want To Able To Knock On Your Door.

when jeanette winterson wrote “i want to be able to call you. i want to able to knock on your door. i want to able to keep your key and give you mine. i want there to be no gossip. i want to make supper with you. i want to go shopping with you. i want to know noting can come between us expect each other.” and when franz kafka wrote “you clam you haven’t done enough nice things for me, but is there anything nicer, any greater honor you can show me than simply being with me and allowing me to sit in front of you” and when james schuyler said “not to be in love with you i can’t remember what it was like it must’ve been lousy” and when caitlyn siehl “You are making breakfast in every dream that I have of you. You are in the kitchen, your soft middle pressed up against the cold marble countertops like a vision too beautiful for the magazines, sprinkling dark chocolate chips over pancakes. I think for a brief second that I am dreaming inside of my dream, that I had to make you up twice, just to get it right. You, brushing your dark hair out of your face, smearing batter across your cheeks. You have come and made my dreams smaller, narrower. Filled them with sugar and your body humming in the same room as mine. I dream, now, of a normal life with you. A life where breakfast lasts until the sun goes down, until I have finished gazing at you from across the table, flour dried to your forehead like a kiss.” and when sanna wani wrote “I want to eat fruit the same way you eat fruit with your lips not your teeth tongues stained with juice when I smile I want you to smile back wipe the corner of my mouth with your thumb kiss me kiss your thumb show me how fruit tastes in your mouth just a touch different from how it tastes in mine” and when daniel walsh said “I crave the simplest love of you with you. a cold night, warm sheets, and your skin against my own. certainly, that is all I could ever ask for.” and edna st. vincent millay wrote “I am going to make you love me. sweetheart, what I mean is: I want to sit on the edge of your bed while you have your breakfast - i want to laugh with you, be incredibly silly, be incredibly happy, be like children, and I want to kiss you more than anything in the world.”

More Posts from Min-us and Others

3 months ago
I am tired. These people make me feel l have a hole in the middle of me.

D.H. Lawrence, from "The Plumbed Serpent" in The Complete Works

1 year ago

i love the implication that annabeth just gets approached and asked for autographs often by fans - dryads, naiads, satyrs, other demigods. she has her own little fan club and resident member percy jackson didn't even know about it but was like "yeah that makes sense" when he found out.

4 months ago

Who else is feeling the universal ache of existence tonight

2 years ago

hello, you might know me as jelly, tuna, syub, baby apple, or that user with the hug emoji that tweets nonsensical things. my ao3


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2 years ago
Hyungs Cuddling Their Maknaes
Hyungs Cuddling Their Maknaes
Hyungs Cuddling Their Maknaes
Hyungs Cuddling Their Maknaes

hyungs cuddling their maknaes


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2 years ago
HE’S SO SILLY I LOVE HIM SO MUCH 
HE’S SO SILLY I LOVE HIM SO MUCH 
HE’S SO SILLY I LOVE HIM SO MUCH 
HE’S SO SILLY I LOVE HIM SO MUCH 
HE’S SO SILLY I LOVE HIM SO MUCH 
HE’S SO SILLY I LOVE HIM SO MUCH 
HE’S SO SILLY I LOVE HIM SO MUCH 
HE’S SO SILLY I LOVE HIM SO MUCH 
HE’S SO SILLY I LOVE HIM SO MUCH 
HE’S SO SILLY I LOVE HIM SO MUCH 

HE’S SO SILLY I LOVE HIM SO MUCH 

bonus:

image

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1 year ago
The World’s Loneliest Whale Sings the Loudest Song
By Noor Hindi

The World’s Loneliest Whale Sings the Loudest Song
           & Other Confessions

I won’t make metaphors out of fish. If I have to die, I choose the ocean. If I have to live, I choose you. You: Everyone I’ve ever mourned. I believe less & less of sunlight these days. I won’t die alone. To awaken crying is to awaken displaced. Ghost of your joy in the bathtub. A face in the mirror. Your nephew’s painting in the foyer. My mother cried in bedrooms growing up. I would study her for hours. In a study, researchers learned patients who cried less are likely to have dismissive attachment styles. Today, every bedroom in the house is mine. I stopped crying at age 12. As a child, I spoke a language no one understood. Research suggests loneliness increases cardiovascular disease. When my cousin died, she died alone. When the world collapsed around Darwish, he wrote of coffee and sex. When you held my body close to yours, I thought of clementines, sweet citrus, all the world’s lemons we’d temper with honey. The world’s loneliest whale sings the loudest song. This is what you’ll tell me the first time we meet. And I’ll think about the ocean. And I’ll think about you. I never learned how to swim. I’ve been drowning my whole life. Studies suggest drowning lasts 1-3 minutes. But I’ll never stop grieving. Scientists are still searching for the 52-hertz whale. But I swear he’s here. In my bedroom. And I can hear him. And he’s telling me I can stop.

The World’s Loneliest Whale Sings the Loudest Song by Noor Hindi


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1 year ago
"What did you learn?" he asked neutrally.  That I could study you for a lifetime, carrying all of your pecu- liarities and discretions in the webs of my spidery palms, and still feel empty-handed.

alone with you in the ether by olivie blake

1 year ago
It was as if hope had appeared out of nowhere, to settle beside you and it wasn’t going anywhere, it wasn't going to desert you now.
Hope, neuroscientists say, resides in the orbitofrontal cortex, one of the most confounding parts of the human brain, which somehow directs our decision-making and expectation and memory and emotional behaviors and our hedonic experiences—which is to say, what devastates us and what makes our life worth living. It is located just above our eyes: it dictates how we see the world. I wonder if this is why, to envision a hoped-for beyond or to focus better on a hopeful wish or a prayer, we close our eyes, or look up.
Only you are my hope. Only you."
I will kiss you like forgiveness. / You will hole me like I'm hope.
I have a small grain of hope / one small crystal that gleams / clear colours out of transparency.
Hope. They call it hope— / that obscene cruelty, it never lets up for a minute.
Hope lives deeper in my heart than faith. It is with hope that I work each day, and at night I curve myself into a quilt of hope’s many designs stitched together. It is hope that keeps my spirit alive, intact, and searching for the right work to follow what I feel from this earth.

on hope

alice hoffman practical magic \\ anna badkhen to see beyond: a hoping in three pictures \\ lenelle moïse haiti glass: "the children of immigrants" \\ clementine von radics \\ denise levertov for the new year 1981 (via @petaltexturedskies) \\ franz wright earlier poems: "voice" (via @luthienne) \\ linda hogan ancient root

kofi

1 year ago

the smallness of the quest, returning a lost chalice, let the audience see a side of percy that is different.

this is a percy that has time.

a percy that has time to go to school and join clubs. a percy who has time to go to smoothie shops with annabeth and grover. a percy that has time to think about what he wants and what he's scared of. a percy that has time to be a kid.


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