#bon iver & st vincent

[godindepression]

Current Top 100 Albums!!!

i didn't went hard on this one when it comes to position, it suggest some preferences but it's actually hard to tell when it comes to actual accurancy regarding my current opinion on these amazing pieces.

I'm not that much of a hardcore scrobbler or music listener in general, but i hope you find my taste at least interesting!!.

i miss topsters 2 tbh, but its fine, taking life as it comes.

[decemberblue]

This atmosphere… 

[fiovske]

for a series that is so bad overall, the twilight saga had an absolutely banging soundtrack

[thyion]

one of the songs of all time

[opalsiren]

[thegamingcatmom]

If yknow...

*listens to Rosyln by Bon Iver & St. Vincent*

Yknow.

[personalartchive]

27/08/2023

[leatherjacketblesseddreams]

When'd this just become a mortal home?

...

[everdeenxmellark]

tw: suicide mention

“sea and the rock below,

cocked to the undertow.

bones, blood and teeth erode,

they will be crashing low.

wings wouldn't help you.

wings wouldn't help you down.

down towards the ground,

gravity smiled.”

- roslyn; bon iver, st. vincent

[songspiral]

"Roslyn" by Bon Iver & St. Vincent

[recklessandyoung]

Rosyln by Bon Iver and St Vincent plays at 4:00 AM in the morning

…

*crickets*

[a-contemplative-soul]

I don't know why but this song makes me remember about people that used to be in my life and now are strangers, also it reminds me of vacations and trips I made in the past that just became memories, it's indeed a song that have a very nostalgic feeling, even though the lyrics are not exactly about it. Moreover, I have noticed folk songs are able to bring a certain type of feeling that other styles rarely can bring, it's a very unique feeling, it seems like the simple and ambient aesthetic of the genre has a sort of contemplative twist, almost in a spiritual way.

Song: Roslyn

Artist: Bon Iver & St. Vincent

Year: 2009

[acteur-dramatique]

In the Quiet Hours, Under Rosyln's Spell

I sit alone,

bathed in the blue light of my screen,

the office empty but for my thoughts,

as I scroll through social media,

through the endless feeds of other lives

flickering past like specters.

I stumble on my music library,

a familiar place to seek comfort,

and I put on Rosyln,

Bon Iver and St. Vincent's voices

slipping into the quiet like a haunting,

filling the room with echoes

of longing I can't shake.

The first lines drift in --

"Up with your turret

Aren't we just terrified?"

And I feel it, the ache of it,

the worry I keep hidden behind stone walls,

screened behind pleasantries and smiles,

my own turret where I hold my secrets close,

my fear tucked away

where no one will ever find it,

especially not him.

Kyle.

He floats into my mind,

unbidden, like a whisper in the dark,

the man whose friendship I hold

like a fragile glass,

too precious to break,

too dangerous to tip.

I replay our conversations,

our laughter woven into quiet moments,

the warmth of his gaze,

the way his hand lingers a second longer than necessary,

a friendship that means the world to me

because I have so few male friends,

and even fewer that makes me feel seen,

that make me feel safe.

But beneath it all, there's this other thing,

this tightrope I tread alone,

the feelings I hide,

a heartbeat that skips and stumbles

whenever he is near.

The song deepens, the lyrics seep in --

"Sea and rock below

Cocked to the undertow,"

and I feel the pull,

the weight of an unspoken gravity,

a draw that drags me down,

bones and blood eroding

under the tide of yearning I dare not speak.

Tomorrow, I will see him in clinic,

and the thoughts bring a flutter to my chest,

a quiet thrill to behold his face,

that perfect symmetry,

the hint of stubble that roughens his jaw,

his brown hair carefully coiffed,

his smile a golden boy's charm,

but with a kindness that makes it real.

His body, sculpted from years of discipline,

thighs and calves honed on the baseball field,

strong yet soft in his Midwestern way,

a sensibility that grounds him,

a steadiness I admire,

a secretly, hopelessly, adore.

The song reaches its final refrain --

"You barely are blinking

Wagging your face around

When'd this just become a mortal home?"

and I am pierced,

hot needles threading through my chest

as the words settle into my heart.

The filing, both blessed and burdened,

fills me up,

and I wonder when friendship

became something to tread so carefully,

when my heart became a mortal home

for a love that must remain hidden.

Tears gather, unbidden,

hot streaks trailing down my cheeks --

happy tears for the closeness we share,

for the laughter and the warmth,

and sad tears for what cannot be,

for a love that waits in silence,

knowing it will go unreturned.

The song fades into quiet,

and I am left with the stillness,

holding these feelings close,

like secrets buried under earth and bone.

Tomorrow, I'll smile, I'll laugh,

I'll walk the line between friendship and longing,

and he will never know

the gravity of this quiet ache,

the joy and sorrow bound so tightly within me,

a song that ends in silence,

a love that never speaks its name.

[my-bookmark-is-a-flower]

When'd this just become a mortal home?