#rough winds do shake the darling buds of may but thy eternal summer shall not fade

[hairmetal666]

The note shows up in Eddie's mailbox cubby on Valentine's Day.

It's nothing fancy, loopy cursive handwriting on lined paper:

"I know this is probably silly but I can't go another day without saying it, and today seems appropriate for this kind of confession. Seeing you in the morning is the best part of my day. You're so gorgeous it leaves me breathless. I hope you don't mind if I don't leave my name. Just wanted you to know that you're beautiful."

His eyes fill with tears that he blinks back, a goofy smile stretching his mouth wide.

"You good there, Munson?" Robin Buckley asks.

"Oh, yup, yeah, all good." He laughs. "Just got one of those 'you're my favorite teacher Mr. Munson!' notes."

He squeezes the letter to his chest before slipping it in his pocket.

---

The worst thing about Eddie's new job is that someway, somehow, Steve-fucking-Harrington works here too. PE teacher, JV basketball coach, of-fucking-course. Once a douchebag jock, always a douchebag jock. What makes it all worse is that he's still the prettiest guy Eddie's ever seen.

---

The first week of March, there's a commotion in the hallway that has him rushing out of his room, ready to breakup a fight. He finds Harrington already there, holding Dustin Henderson and Will Byers by their shoulders. Troy Walsh and James Dante stand across from them, wearing matching snarls.

Of course Harrington is picking on little nerd kids; he knew it. But before he steps forwards to break it up, Steve speaks, voice low and angry. "You want to tell me what happened here, Troy?"

"Byers tripped. He really should watch where he's going," Troy says. James laughs.

Steve's glare goes even more icy, more disdainful (it's so fucking hot, Eddie hates it). "You want to take that again? And try being honest this time, or you're suspend from the team."

Troy splutters for long enough that Eddie finally notices Will's stricken face, the sketchpad and snapped colored pencils littering the linoleum.

"I saw you take those things from Will, and unfortunately, I'll have to call your parents and you will be responsible for purchasing a new sketchbook and pencils. You're also benched for the next four games."

The boys shout, but when Steve raises a hand they quiet immediately. "You want to complain more, or do you want it to be five games?"

"No, sir," they answer before scampering off.

Harrington faces Dustin and Will. "You boys okay?" he asks them.

"We're good, Mr. H," Dustin answers.

"Glad to hear it." Steve begins collecting Will's ruined belongings, stops to study one of the drawings.

"This is really good, Will."

Will flushes. "Thanks. It's my character for dnd,"

"Dnd? That's that game that El and Max are always talking about? With the character sheets and the dice?"

"Yeah!" says Dustin. "You know it?"

Steve's smile is a little bashful, and it tugs at Eddie's heart in a way he has to ignore. "Not much. Just from what the girls have said. You want to tell me about it?"

"Really?" Their eyes light up.

"Really. You can stop by the gym during lunch. Only if you want to, though."

"Cool," says Dustin.

He pats them both on the shoulder, and they hurry away, leaving Steve and Eddie suddenly alone.

Eddie should head back to his class, hasn't been needed in this situation at all, really, but before he can disappear, Steve spots him and his eyes widen.

"You need something, Munson?" Steve's cheeks go a faint pink.

He shakes his head, feels wrong-footed. "Uh, that was really cool what you did just there."

"They're really good kids," Steve says. "I know them a little. Used to babysit El Hopper." He slides his hands into the pockets of his khakis and, seriously, fuck Harrington for looking like that in a pair of Dockers.

"Babysitter, Harrington? Never thought I'd see the day. Or that you'd be the one defending a bunch of nerds," Eddie says. He means it teasing, but Steve's face warps into a frown.

"Y--yeah, I guess. I mean. I'm trying not to be that guy anymore, and Robin's really helped--"

"Shit, man, I'm sorry. That's not what I meant, at all--"

"--I feel terrible about all that shit I pulled back in school. That King Steve stuff? I was awful and you didn't deserve--"

"Steve!" Eddie cuts him off. "I forgive you. For everything." He looks down at his shoes. "For all I didn't want to believe it, you really have changed."

They're both pink faced now, avoiding each other's eyes. "Thanks," Steve says. "I should get going, but--for the future-- I really wouldn't mind--um--trying to be friends."

The grin that passes across Eddie's face is huge. "Yeah, Harrington, I'd like that."

Eddie has to run to make it to his classroom on time. He passes Dustin and Will and the rest of their gaggle of friends, rushing them along, but forgets all about it as he steps in front of his third period juniors.

---

He and Steve are...friendly now. They chat, they joke, they share smiles that have Eddie's heart beating too fast even though it's not like that. Turns out Steve is kind and funny (a little bit of a bitch too, but in a way that ties Eddie's stomach in knots), and a hell of a teacher.

---

His freshman are in small groups, peer-reviewing an essays, when Max Mayfield catches his eye. She's one of his favorite students and absolute trouble.

"What's up, Mayfield." He asks.

"Are you friends with Mr. Harrington?" She asks.

He chuckles. "Sure, Max, we're friendly enough. Why?"

She narrows her eyes, like she knows he's not being totally honest. "Oh, nothing. He just talks about you all the time."

He's blushing horribly and Max, and all of her friends, smirk up at him. "He does?" He chokes out.

"Mmhmm," Lucas Sinclair says. "Says he thinks you're really cool."

"Definitely one of the best teachers here," Mike Wheeler adds.

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Okay, very funny, guys. How're your essays going?"

They answer, but before Eddie goes to help another group, Will says, "he really does like you, Mr. Munson. A lot."

El nods earnestly up at him. "It is true," she says. "I know him."

"Thanks, kids. I'll keep that in mind." He gives them a smile, tries not to let their words get to him. When he reaches the next group, though, he notices his hands are shaking.

---

Gifts start turning up in Eddie's cubby. It starts with a bag of oatmeal chocolate chip cookies from his favorite bakery. There's a small note that says "from your secret admirer," on the packaging. Every two weeks or so, something new shows up in his little mailbox; a woven friendship bracelet, a yellow rose, Hershey kisses, a delicately painted dnd figure that gives Eddie a small crisis because it's his own bard character, an Iron Maiden cassette, a bag of dice that almost brings him to genuine tears.

Eventually, he gets another note. This one is typed and reads: "I would love to have coffee with you 11am this Saturday at the Cafe on Main Street."

---

He walks into the cafe at 10:50am, wearing his favorite pair of ripped black jeans and a burgundy button-down, his hair pulled into a loose bun. He doesn't recognize anyone there.

Eddie gets in line, studies the menu, and the little bell above the door rings. He whips towards the sound to find none other than Steve Harrington in little wire rim glasses, a butter colored sweater, and jeans the man must have painted on, Jesus Christ. Honestly, the whole thing is enough to give Eddie a coronary (and to, embarrassingly, chub up in his own tight jeans).

"Steve?" He asks. He's overwhelmed with the (stupid, stupid) hope that it's been Harrington all along. "What are you doing here?"

"Henderson asked me to meet him. He around?"

"Uh, no?" Eddie feels heat creeping up his throat.

Steve shakes his head, as though he expected as much. "You alone? We could grab drink."

"I can't believe this." Eddie hides his face in his hands, knows it's gone horrifyingly crimson.

"What's wrong?"

"My secret admirer told me to be here now, so we could meet," Eddie's misery slices through his words. "I'm such an idiot."

"I--your--what?" Steve stammers.

He gathers himself enough to look Steve in his hazel eyes and ask, "I'm assuming it wasn't you leaving notes and gifts for me at work?"

And he expects Steve to say no. To laugh and ask why he'd ever do something like that, but instead, instead he flushes a deep red. "O-only one note."

"What?"

"I, uh," Steve clears his throat. "I left you a note. On Valentine's Day. I--we weren't friends yet, and I wanted you to know how much I liked you. It's --uh--it's pretty silly, huh? Robin's--"

"Steve," Eddie interrupts. He's going to tell Steve that he reads the note often enough that he has parts memorized; that it's the kindest thing anyone has done for him, but what he says instead is, "Dustin Henderson told you to meet him here at 11?"

"Yeah. Said he had something to show me."

Eddie remembers running into Will and Dustin and their friends that day in the hall, the weird conversation in class, the dice and the miniature. Something must click for Steve at the same time because his mouth drops, blush getting somehow deeper.

"Oh my god. Henderson! I'm gonna kill him. They figured out I had a crush on you."

"They WHAT?" Eddie says, loud enough that several looks are aimed their way.

"I'm so, so sorry, Eddie. Holy shit, this is so humiliating. You have to believe me, I had no idea they were doing this. God, I'm really starting to think it is possible to die from embarrassment."

"You have a crush on me," Eddie says instead of any of the dozens of helpful things he could say.

"Um. Yes?"

Eddie takes a deep breath, straightens his spine, and asks, "You wanna have coffee with me?"

"I'd really like that." Steve's return smile is so beautiful, it makes Eddie weak.

---

Eddie Munson is making out with Steve Harrington in the backseat of Steve's BMW. He and Steve spent the day together. They've kissed for so long that the sun has set, both of their lips are swollen, their skin red from stubble, and Eddie is nowhere near ready for the night to end.

Steve breaks away, gently pulling their mouths apart, but arms still tight around Eddie. "Hey, what kind of gifts were they giving you anyway? The kids?"

"Oh," Eddie blushes. "Uh, cookies, a dnd mini, lots of candy, a set of dice."

"Oh my god," Steve says, he pulls a little more away. "Oh my god, I'm going to kill her, Jesus Christ."

"Who are are you killing, sweetheart?"

Steve groans. "Robin. She was helping them. We found a set of dice at this little bookstore and she told me to get them for you, and--" he breaks off with a helpless, frustrated noise.

Eddie doesn't mean to, but he starts to giggle.

"It's not funny!" Steve says.

That only makes Eddie laugh harder. "Your best friend," he squeaks. "And a group of literal children set us up. That's hilarious, Harrington."

Steve's mouth drops and for a second Eddie thinks he'll be upset, but then he's giggling too, his whole face crumpling into it.

Steve pulls Eddie close once the laughter subsides, his eyes trained on Eddie's lips.

"We could pretend we didn't get together," Eddie manages to say.

"What, like, make them think they failed?"

"Yeah. We could tell them I got stood up, but you and I hung out. Had a bro day."

Steve giggles again, and it's the best sound Eddie's ever heard. "I'm absolutely on board with this plan, but you should definitely kiss me some more."

"Oh, yeah?" Eddie asks, his voice low. "And what'll I get out of it?"

"Why don't you get over here and see."

As if Eddie could turn down an invite that enticing. He slides a hand behind Steve's head, drawing him in, and they're kissing like they never stopped. It only been a few hours, but Eddie knows--without a doubt--he's already head over heels.

[neverenoughmarauders]

Love, immortal

@jilymicrofics | January 2025 prompt #5: Sonnet | Words: 907

'Write her a love poem already, why don't you?' 

James glanced over at Sirius, who was leaning against the grey stone wall along the seaside, cigarette in hand. 

'Or a sonnet,' Remus suggested with a small smile. He was the only one who wasn't smoking, on account of his lungs already being in an abysmal state. Technically speaking they shouldn't really smoke around him, on account of his health. Well, James supposed none of them should be smoking on account of their own health either.

'Shall I compare thee to a Summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate.'

James rolled his eyes. Trust Peter to recite the easiest lines of the most famous sonnet. Sirius' lips twitched slightly as he casually picked up where Peter's memory would likely have failed him.

'Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And Summer's lease hath all too short a date.'

Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines, James found himself continuing in his mind, though there is nothing too hot about the sun at present. And often is his gold complexion dimmed. That was certainly true. Though it was no longer summer in Scotland. If summer had ever visited these parts of the island.

'I dunno what you're talking about,' James lied. 

'Oh, but you do,' said Sirius as he nodded towards the two people standing a little away from them. James permitted himself another glance at the red-haired girl. 

And every fair from fair sometimes declines, By chance, or Nature's changing course, untrimmed. 

Was it too much to hope his feelings would decline? He wanted nothing more than for Lily Evans to be what she had always been, Snivellus' unlikely, and almost as annoying, friend. 

'Her?' James tried to inject as much disbelief as he could into his question. 'You're out of your mind, mate.'

The bell sounded for class, and James dropped the stub of his cigarette. But neither he nor Sirius made any move to leave, so Remus and Peter didn't either.

​Lily and Snape had to pass them to get back into the courtyard, and James was damned if he was going to miss this opportunity to say hi. Merely to annoy Snivellus, naturally.

As she turned towards them, the sun sent an unlikely ray down to greet them, and Lily's auburn hair glowed in the otherwise grey landscape that was the sea, the wall and the sky. Her emerald eyes caught his own for the briefest of moments, and James was sure his heart skipped a beat.

But thy eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st.

She was bloody beautiful, James had to concede that much. Beautiful, and smart, and funny. Snape, who had no sense of humour, would never truly appreciate that side of her. And she was brave, so very brave. 

Nor shall death brag thou wand'rest in his shade, When in eternal lines to Time though grow'st.

Lily could have died, wanting to run in after Snape like that. Going into that cave was dangerous, yet she had fought their teachers to let go of her. Wanting to throw away her life on the off-chance that her friend had survived his stupid adventure. It was why - well, better James than her, and nobody had paid him any attention. Not before it was too late to stop him.

'Alright Evans,' said James as Lily and Snape came past them. 

The git had been unhurt, in the end - but for a sprained ankle. But he had been stuck. 

'Good to have you back, Potter,' Lily nodded. A small, rational part of James reminded him she was being polite, but a much louder voice was busy celebrating. It was good to have him back. She thought it was good that he was back.

'Sign his cast, will ya?' Sirius asked lazily and drew a black marker from his red and gold blazer. 

To James' immense relief - and slight embarrassment - Lily accepted the marker. She took his injured arm gently with her left as she wrote: Thank you! LE 

She even added an X. 

Snape scowled behind her. 

'Bastard,' Sirius muttered as Snape threw James one more loathful look, before leaving with Lily. 

'A little gratitude wouldn't go amis,' Remus agreed.

'James nearly died saving that greasy git's life,' said Peter, unnecessarily. 

'Fuck him,' Sirius muttered, 'fuck you too for that matter,' Sirius told James. It wasn't the first time. Sirius hadn't quite forgiven James for running after Snape. For risking his own life.

James paid Sirius little attention. As they turned to walk back to class, his gaze kept falling on the words from Lily. The pain, the boredom of the last week, it all seemed worth it, now that he had this eternal proof of her gratitude. The ending of Sonnet 18 came back to him:

​So long as man can breathe, or eyes can see, So long lives this and this gives life to thee.

Shaking his head as if to free it from these chains that were his growing feelings for Lily Evans, James put his good arm around Sirius. It was ridiculous, whatever this was. A stupid crush. It certainly wasn't love. He wasn't about to spurt nonsense about eternal love that lived on long after they were all gone from this world. Love wasn't eternal. Only lovesick poets were foolish enough to believe love could ever change the world.

---

Thank you for reading Love, immortal - I always appreciate a kind word or a kudos on AO3 too <3

[jayden-killer]

SHALL I COMPARE THEE TO A SUMMER'S DAY?

previous part here.

summary: That's it. That's the moment when you decide to open the famous letter Loki wrote to you before sacrificing himself into becoming the God of Stories.

warnings: lots of angst, heheheh.

author's note: my biggest apologies!! I didn't mean to procrastinate this one, but I also had 0 ideas on how to write it (((￣へ￣井). I tried my best. Also, bonus point, as an english literature student, i had to add Shakespeare's Sonnet 18. >:)

taglist (people who wanted the letter, its hereee!!): @eviebuggg @tea-kovsky-pot @sititran

☆

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer’s lease hath all too short a date;

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;

And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm'd;

But thy eternal summer shall not fade,

Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;

Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,

When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st:

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

***

My dear,

Putting what I’m feeling on paper now is complicated for me.

Certain emotions have no explanation.

The TVA will collapse. I have seen into the future, and have gone back in time indecipherable times to put a point to this story, however my attempts have always been in vain. Only when hope was about to leave my body, I understood.

I understood my glorious purpose, I understood that there would be no other solution but one: sacrifice.

It will lead to the birth of a new, better timeline, however, not everything is pink and flowers. I already know there will be consequences for what we’ve built hard, you and I. Breaking a love pact that we promised to honor in spite of everything.

Which I will break.

The bitterness in my mouth assails me. The pen trembles in the palm of my hand; my eyes are swollen with tears...

To me, you are like an early morning sun ray on what is to be a sunny summer morning.

To me, you are like sea waves, crashing on rocks with determination, yet delicate in their touch.

To me, you are like the melody of a harp, melodious, cordial.

You are what still feeds the beating of my heart at such a difficult time as this.

You are what I call "Love of my life".

What a wonder, love itself. Before you, I never knew love. You, my other half, enchanted me with your magic. You gave me all of you.

It wouldn’t be fair of me not to return the favor.

I shall never forget your angelic voice, your shining eyes, the sweetness of your lips, your kind touches, the brightest smile in the Nine Realms, making the major gods invidious.

Do not shed more tears than you have already shed.

I will not be physically with you, sleeping in your arms on your comfortable sofa, enjoying the warmth of your body.

I shall watch over you every single day of my existence. Time won't separate us, not even in the slightest.

I'll always look up to you,

I'll always protect you.

Our souls are connected even beyond time itself.

My beautiful wife.

With much love,

𝐿𝑜𝓀𝒾.

[a-ramblinrose]

JOMP BPC || August 3 || Summer:

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer’s lease hath all too short a date; Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimm'd; And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm'd; But thy eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st; Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st: So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

[loveisafriendshipsettomusic]

“Sonnet 18” by William Shakespeare

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer’s lease hath all too short a date; Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimm’d; And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’d; But thy eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st; Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st: So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee

[dlatl98]

I don't know why when a professor of English literature depicts a fairy monarch, he induced Sonnet 18 of Shakespeare …..

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer’s lease hath all too short a date;

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;

And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm'd;

But thy eternal summer shall not fade,

Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;

Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,

When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st:

   So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

   So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

.....Of course, this is just a cliché. But the theme of this Sonnette is to suggest his destiny, which became the intersection of Half Elf, considering that it was a weak victory of love and arts for eternity and mortal, leaving mortality.

Or you can just encourage readers to read Shakespeare Sonnet. The professors I experienced liked to forcibly recommend people to read their studies. Shakespeare's Sonnet is interesting. Beautiful, it is fun to guess about the characters ……

[souslesetoilesavectoi]

Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer’s Day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer’s lease hath all too short a date: Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimm’d; And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’d; But thy eternal summer shall not fade Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest; Nor shall Death brag thou wander’st in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou growest: So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this and this gives life to thee.

Shakespeare - Sonnet 18

Reblogs help way more than likes!

Lighting free version under cut

Now I’m going to sleep because it’s 9 am—

[thelongingsofelle]

you were my summer

this is an old piece from 2021 that i finally decided to post. it is a reflection on sonnet 18 by william shakespeare.

shall i compare thee to a summer's day? the words left my lips as i felt your arms pull me close and hold me gently.

thou art more lovely and temperate. i felt your fingers run over my arms, barely touching but telling me everything you feel.

rough winds do shake the darling buds of may, and summer's lease hath all too short a date. my voice wavered as i finished the line, distracted by the feeling of your lips on my skin. your kisses were like the wind, gentle yet powerful.

sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines, and often is his gold complexion dimm'd. the sunlight from the window caught your face, and it almost made me jealous. you were beautiful.

and every fair from fair sometimes declines, by chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd. time waits for no one, that much i knew. but in that moment, laying in your arms, time came to a still, and it was just you and me.

but thy eternal summer shall not fade, nor lose possession of that fait thou ow'st. my eyes travelled over your features, taking in your beauty. your eyes, ever sparkling with joy. your lips, always full of love. the freckles scattered across your collarbone, the same ones that i loved to worship in the late hours of the night. i felt almost selfish, for i am the only one who you will allow to love you like this.

nor shall death brag thou wander'st in his shade, when in eternal lines to time thou grow'st. you were ethereal, untouchable. even death could have never hurt you.

so long as men can breathe or eyes can see, so long lives this, and this gives life to thee. if i were an artist, i would have painted you a million times and more, so that you are never forgotten.

but as i pulled you closer to me, and felt your heart beating in unison with mine, i realised that i need not be an artist, or a poet. my body had learnt yours with ease, every contour and dip memorised. and as we lay together, bodies pressed against each other, i looked into your loving eyes, and i knew then that you were my everything. you were more beautiful than light itself.

you were my summer.

reblog, like and comment if you liked it! asks are always open <3

[cvlutos]

“To You”

| Repost: 03.06.2022 | 0.5K | PG |

Riddle Rosehearts X GN!Reader

| Characters 18+ | Fluff | Poems | Confessions | Etc | Proceed with Caution, Dearest.

My Dearest Rose,

“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:”

The beginning of a poem that we learned in my English studies class, by the poet Shakespeare. I am familiar with his genius, yet I do fully not understand the purpose of poems or any literature that forms from creativity. My mother believes that they’re useless, irrelevant, for those who have not the knowledge to form more important works. Who lacks the ability to write articles, journals, facts over feelings? And I, for the longest, agreed with her. What do fictional stories, poems, haikus, and what purpose do they serve? They’re not like math, nor science. They’re fake, turn those away from a better and more important career and future.

“Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer’s lease hath all too short a date:”

Yet, when you feel something so strong. Something that takes the air from your lungs, that leaves your mind jumbled and confused. That has you second guessing every thought and feeling. That feels you with something that rivals the sun. Something that articles, journals, and facts over feelings can’t explain. Until you read a poem--

“Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And often is his golden complexion dimm’d;”

That explains everything. That understands the shaking of my limbs when I am around you. That explains the cause of my beating heart, that seems to squeeze and constrict upon seeing you. Every nerve feels a lit, as if I was within the burning fireplace, and not gazing upon it with a cup of tea. As if every book, every word, spells out every letter of your name, everything that I could possibly love.

“And every fair and fair sometime declines,

By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’d;”

They are life. They explain the human mind, the feelings, emotions, wants and desires, the haves and have-nots. They make this burning love understandable. As if I am losing my mind, going mad from wanting you and not having you. (As ill-intentioned as that sounds, I mean that in not a harmful nor forceful way.)

“But thy eternal summer shall not fade,

Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;”

As if stand lost within an ever-changing rose maze, as if my world seems to be within constant rotation, you make the world still, your hands even if nonexistent pull me—guide me towards the exit. You plant my feet to the solid ground, yet my mind seems alive with daydreams.

“Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,

When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st:”

With hope. Words that explain my longing, my frustrations, my desire to be perfect within your eyes, my everything—it forms poems. Elegantly written stories that no matter how long I deny it, it shall not leave me. It cannot leave me. For as long as you exist, you bring life to me.

“So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.”

Sincerely,

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

ⓒ 2023 love-thanatopsis — all rights reserved. Any sort of plagiarizing, copying, modifying, translating, editing of my works are strictly prohibited

[minisugakoobies]

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer’s lease hath all too short a date; Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimm'd; And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm'd; But thy eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st; Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st:    So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,    So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

-William Shakespeare, Sonnet 18

[onenakedfarmer]

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE "Sonnet 18"

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate. Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date. Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimmed; And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimmed; But thy eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st, Nor shall death brag thou wand'rest in his shade, When in eternal lines to Time thou grow'st. So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

[maslimanny]

Sonnet 18 BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer’s lease hath all too short a date;

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;

And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm'd;

But thy eternal summer shall not fade,

Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;

Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,

When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st:

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

[ask-dreamtalia]

BBY WORLD!!!

Son, does the name Vanya mean anything to you?

M!A Chapter Zero (10/10)

I mean it is short hand for Ivan, so it's more of a informal nickname. But if you mean what I think of when I hear the name? I... Oh, I have something similar to this let me get out my sketchbook. ... mm.... Not that one, not that one.... Ah! I found it. Ah-Ahem...

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate. Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer’s lease hath all too short a date. Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimmed; And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance, or nature’s changing course, untrimmed; But thy eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st, Nor shall death brag thou wand'rest in his shade, When in eternal lines to Time thou grow'st. So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

Hm~ You've been rereading the Shakespeare Sonnets I see.

AAAAH

[poems-from-around-the-world]

Sonnet 18 - William Shakespeare - UK

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer’s lease hath all too short a date;

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;

And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm'd;

But thy eternal summer shall not fade,

Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;

Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,

When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st:

   So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

   So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

[kiki-de-la-petite-flaque]

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer’s lease hath all too short a date; Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimm'd; And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm'd; But thy eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st; Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st: So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

William Shakespeare, Sonnet 18.

[renaissanceofthearts]

"Sonnet 18" by William Shakespeare-

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date: Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimmed; And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimmed; But thy eternal summer shall not fade Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest; Nor shall Death brag thou wanderest in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou growest: So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

(Shakespeare's a weirdo)