752winters

[752winters]

James Baldwin, If Beale Street Could Talk

[752winters]

I look at you and my heart strains like the strings of a violin under the skillful fingers of its owner. the melody warms the very depths of my soul, leaving me breathless in your beauty— oh, how you make me want to sing. I look at you, you with that warm smile, and I want to crumble in your arms and my soul burns to melt into your warmth, until every single atom of me unwinds to bond with yours.

— always yearning for you

[752winters]

Franz Kafka, Letters to Felice‎

[752winters]

Danez Smith, from "summer, somewhere"

[752winters]

tumblr heard it first: i have a single coming out on april 19th

follow if u love imogen heap’s 2005 hit song “hide and seek” #vocoder

[752winters]

i’ll be the ink, i’ll be the pen, i’ll be the paper

i’ll be the wax, the candle stick, the light, and the stamp

the envelope, the pigeon with the letter between my teeth

before i’ll be the writer

[752winters]

Mahmoud Darwish (trans. Mohammad Shaheen), Like a Hand Tattoo in an Ode by an Ancient Arab Poet

[752winters]

to evaporate

to be held within tufts of air and dust

nurtured by the ripe candescence of sun

lulled to soft slumber by way of its repose

nothing and nobody else

for there is not one body in sight or sense

to enter unscathed and oblivious

to linger atop deserts, plains, fields, monuments, and mountains

to be without the eyes to see them or the ears to hear their plight

to be a mere particle

to be a fragment of a much larger form

and to have no idea

to have nothing and be nothing

to travel across the atmosphere with no legs to grow weary

to be the barest form of liquid

until the next time it rains

and to precipitate from whence i came

plummet gracefully, forcefully, and purposefully back down to the earth

nourishing its particles, its plants, its people

painting a terracotta pot crimson, maybe

dripping down its side and onto the grass

spreading thinner as i reemerge into this thing

this thing i wished so desperately to flee

this thing i hoped would entangle me into its roots and swallow me whole

only to sprout anew, remember my first name,

and take to my usual walking route

but with the light of the stars in the back of my mind

the warmth of the sun on the tip of my nose

and the memory of non-existence

as if it could ever be obtained

this is what i wish

i do not wish to be gone

i wish to volatilize

and reconvene with the notion that i did not bud out from this planet without purpose to serve

and that i was hand plucked from the clouds

to return home

and to stay

[752winters]

1 thing about me I'm gonna be a sweetie

[752winters]

you redefine the phrase

too good to be true

something arbitrary

moving me to tears

meet me halfway

crossing both our hearts

uncross all your fingers

i’ll love you for the rest of my years

[752winters]

2024 is all about being cozy and saying i love you whenever it crawls to the tip of my tongue

[752winters]

if you found me through my old blog hello hi <33 thx for being here <33 also i can’t explain why the links in my bio are fucked up (if they even are. i have no idea what it looks like to other people idk) swag <3333

[752winters]

Gustaf Fjaestad (Swedish, 1868-1948), Winter Landscape, 1925. Oil on canvas, 94 x 103 cm.

[752winters]

next year all our troubles will be out of sight

[752winters]

getting into bed on a December night by Ellen Bass

[752winters]

when you die

do you become the blood?

if i was someone else’s guts

would i survive a couple cuts?

let me infiltrate her veins if i should be the first

fill up all her arteries so her heart will never burst

[752winters]

i want to shrink down

and crawl into your ear

i want to hear what you’re hearing and thinking about it

drill a hole through your chest and know how your pulse really feels about me

it’s not the worst thing

being someone else

i take a look at myself when i’m with you and realize

you’re only person who’s ever met me and suddenly i’m scared as all hell