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FLAPPER FANNY SAYS, by Anericn cartoonist, Ethel Hays (1892-1989).

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Dorian Leigh photographed by Irving Penn, 1946.

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The Approaching Fall

Photographed by Freddie Ardley - instagram

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David Bowie photographed by Lord Snowdon, 1978.

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[ID: a floral lace doily on a grey background. the phrase "sometimes I feel very evil" has been added to it in white thread.]

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her yerde kendine doğru kıvrılmak

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Brown Noise

I’m overly attached

I firmly believe no one else will ever be able to love me.

That’s not why I stay though.

I know I’m only able to love you.

I think you never truly do anything wrong.

Even with how annoyed I get, everything is just a misunderstanding or a miscommunication.

I feel an immense amount of guilt whenever you tell me a negative thought about yourself.

At the same time, I try so hard not to hate you for making me feel like this.

I know it's selfish but I can't help thinking it.

I don’t know why it comes to mind. 

I think it’s hard for you to understand how I feel when I choke on my breath or bite little scars into my fingertips.

I want to give you everything, but would you take it from me?

All this time, and would you take it from me?

As a gift.

I want to gift and gift and gift.

I want you to have everything I own for myself.

It’s the want I find important.

The want is how I fell in love, not why.

How do I know you’re in love?

Everyone lies.

There is one Saint left in this world and it’s neither of us.

How am I supposed to know if you want me or not?

All words have done is deceive me.

I think it’s hard for me to understand the exchange you desire.

If you wouldn’t want it, why would I?

If you pay for it, why shouldn’t I?

It’s a process I don’t understand but I want to know.

I would fill a library with print pressed books on what I would know if I understood.

But I can’t.

Do you know how emptying that is?

Neither of us understand.

When you go to bed, I tell the world “there is nothing here for me now, until my sweet boy wakes up.”

Do you say the same?

Or is it tucked away in your head with all the folders and pages you have.

Actions will say what your words cannot tell.

Actions are how your thoughts speak.

Maybe this is why I’m overly attached.

I am emotionally unsatisfying, but there’s enough to keep me balancing on the edge.

Will a push bring me to safety or to my demise?

Which direction is truly my demise?

Because I swear to God, what I let you have over me is fucking scary but going without you would leave me as dust.

From a distance, I’m scared, but when we're together, I hum.

I give warning like a cop when a pretty girl drives too fast; our of interest, not taken seriously.

You know me so much so when I do get hurt I feel a sense of avoidance and intent.

With so much time, how did you think this wouldn’t hurt me?

As I love you more, I get more scared.

Not of you fully, but of what the world can now take away from me.

Another thing I invest my everything into, just to come up short and have it hung over me for leverage by someone who doesn’t understand what we mean to me.

Finding the person who speaks your language after not being able to communicate to anyone, that you don’t understand, for your whole life.

It’s dangling over me in places I don’t think to look at first.

Are you held by your hand or by your neck?

I could one day be the bride from sonnets of romantics centuries ago but how to stick out through it, I don’t know.

Because life with you could be beautiful, but what am I supposed to do when you’re gone?

Away for the day I can do but what about years into the future when your mind leaves your body because it needs something more?

Something that’s not me.

For somewhere you’ll be reborn.

My last life will be only 1275 days where I’ll burn anything that would leave a trace of who I was because If I ever go down in history I want it to be with you, for you are the reason I become anything good that the earth can do.

For all I have, I cannot let you go.

I’d go crazy and get sent back again.

But when we cross that fork, I will turn down the road that will provide you with the best life you can have; even if that means we take different paths.

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darkness

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Marilyn Monroe

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by Petros & Claudia Koublis

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Poets are the painters of human experience, capturing the colors of their heart in verse.

— agelesslibrary

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the full moon in paintings

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𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘶

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x - x / x - x