the-gentle-wave

[the-gentle-wave]

We Lived Happily During the War, Ilya Kaminsky

[the-gentle-wave]

wtf was i on while writing this ◉_◉

𝒹𝒶𝓌𝓃

and she had some strange warmth that drew him in like a magnet, the spirit of Dawn.

for when he drifted past her window, whispery sleeves snuck in, brushing across her sleeping cheek.

only, she never shivered. she pulled his sleeve close - icy and dewy in the deep silvery purple bloom.

he paused, held still by soft fingers. he drifted back to the window, peering through the open window, down at her slumbering spirit.

he quietly stepped into the little room, coating the sill in diamond dew.

gently, he tried to tug the end of his endless sleeve past her grip. she drew it deeper into the crook of her neck, unflinching at its cool touch.

curiously, the Dawn hovered over her form - the loose dark waves spilling everywhere, the warm exhales slipping past her open lips and the deep brown smudges under her eyes.

his finger drew down the same cheek his sleeve had brushed. he stared in awe as warmth bloomed through the contact - blistering and wild, strange and familiar.

he thought of the fleeting dream of the morning sun as it thread its warmth through his icy locks - an illusion of warmth he melted in willingly.

yet her warmth, did not devour him.

he watched as her fingers covered his on her cheek, before tugging it close to the crook of her neck.

her warmth caressed his coolness, quiet and deep, full of dreams.

and when she drew him close, his being stumbled, falling to her.

her unflinching warmth that held him kinder that the morning sun.

she drew him to her embrace, soft arms curling around his great form, warm cheeks nuzzling sweetly against his frosty ones.

dew sparkled across her skin in the silvery gleam, some running in languid stream along her arms, down her eyes and past her lips.

he drowned in the warmth, in the visions of golden stillness and the soft thrum of life that woke his ancient spirit.

at dawn, in the lonely streets and the dark expanse, there were only souls bereft of dreams, trembling in the arcane whispers of the wind, fleeing for the rising bloody orb, flinching at his silky laughter.

in her ember heart, he falls asleep now. dancing with her dreams, drunk on the essence of the stars flickering softly in her heady warmth.

morning streams made their way past the far east, bright and hot, playing over their entwined bodies.

she stirred, soft vision falling on the creature fast asleep in her embrace.

she raised her finger, pressing it against the cold skin of his face.

his eyes opened. they were blue like the first ripple on a lake.

the sun snuck deeper through the dark, melting.

strange rapture and warm kisses.

"until dawn," he whispered, before stealing away like dew.

.̩₊̣.̩✧*̣̩˚̣̣⁺̣‧.₊̣̇.‧⁺̣˚̣̣*̣̩⋆·̩̩.̩̥·̩̩⋆*̣̩˚̣̣⁺̣‧.₊̣̇.‧⁺̣˚̣̣*̣̩✧·.̩₊̣.̩.̩₊̣.̩✧*̣̩˚̣̣⁺̣‧.₊̣̇.‧⁺̣˚̣̣*̣̩⋆·̩̩.̩̥·̩̩⋆*̣̩˚̣̣⁺̣‧.₊̣̇.‧⁺̣˚̣̣*̣̩✧·.̩₊̣.̩.̩₊̣.̩✧*̣̩˚̣̣⁺̣‧.₊̣̇.

divider by @soft-rains

[the-gentle-wave]

“Eventually soulmates meet, for they have the same hiding place.”

— Unknown

[the-gentle-wave]

[the-gentle-wave]

A common phenomenon in libraries is that people will come up to the desk and ask if they can buy a book and we have to explain "No, you cannot. We are a library."

Well today I was browsing at a small bookstore and overheard a man ask the woman at the counter "How do I go about getting a library card here?" And she had to explain that they are a bookstore, not a library.

Anyways, good to know that the opposite phenomenon is also happening.

[the-gentle-wave]

i don't want the cold heaven of the enlightened.

i want the soft heaven of my quiet heart.

[the-gentle-wave]

running away from the things we love, crying and bleeding.

such an aesthetic.

[the-gentle-wave]

𝒹𝒶𝓌𝓃

and she had some strange warmth that drew him in like a magnet, the spirit of Dawn.

for when he drifted past her window, whispery sleeves snuck in, brushing across her sleeping cheek.

only, she never shivered. she pulled his sleeve close - icy and dewy in the deep silvery purple bloom.

he paused, held still by soft fingers. he drifted back to the window, peering through the open window, down at her slumbering spirit.

he quietly stepped into the little room, coating the sill in diamond dew.

gently, he tried to tug the end of his endless sleeve past her grip. she drew it deeper into the crook of her neck, unflinching at its cool touch.

curiously, the Dawn hovered over her form - the loose dark waves spilling everywhere, the warm exhales slipping past her open lips and the deep brown smudges under her eyes.

his finger drew down the same cheek his sleeve had brushed. he stared in awe as warmth bloomed through the contact - blistering and wild, strange and familiar.

he thought of the fleeting dream of the morning sun as it thread its warmth through his icy locks - an illusion of warmth he melted in willingly.

yet her warmth, did not devour him.

he watched as her fingers covered his on her cheek, before tugging it close to the crook of her neck.

her warmth caressed his coolness, quiet and deep, full of dreams.

and when she drew him close, his being stumbled, falling to her.

her unflinching warmth that held him kinder that the morning sun.

she drew him to her embrace, soft arms curling around his great form, warm cheeks nuzzling sweetly against his frosty ones.

dew sparkled across her skin in the silvery gleam, some running in languid stream along her arms, down her eyes and past her lips.

he drowned in the warmth, in the visions of golden stillness and the soft thrum of life that woke his ancient spirit.

at dawn, in the lonely streets and the dark expanse, there were only souls bereft of dreams, trembling in the arcane whispers of the wind, fleeing for the rising bloody orb, flinching at his silky laughter.

in her ember heart, he falls asleep now. dancing with her dreams, drunk on the essence of the stars flickering softly in her heady warmth.

morning streams made their way past the far east, bright and hot, playing over their entwined bodies.

she stirred, soft vision falling on the creature fast asleep in her embrace.

she raised her finger, pressing it against the cold skin of his face.

his eyes opened. they were blue like the first ripple on a lake.

the sun snuck deeper through the dark, melting.

strange rapture and warm kisses.

"until dawn," he whispered, before stealing away like dew.

.̩₊̣.̩✧*̣̩˚̣̣⁺̣‧.₊̣̇.‧⁺̣˚̣̣*̣̩⋆·̩̩.̩̥·̩̩⋆*̣̩˚̣̣⁺̣‧.₊̣̇.‧⁺̣˚̣̣*̣̩✧·.̩₊̣.̩.̩₊̣.̩✧*̣̩˚̣̣⁺̣‧.₊̣̇.‧⁺̣˚̣̣*̣̩⋆·̩̩.̩̥·̩̩⋆*̣̩˚̣̣⁺̣‧.₊̣̇.‧⁺̣˚̣̣*̣̩✧·.̩₊̣.̩.̩₊̣.̩✧*̣̩˚̣̣⁺̣‧.₊̣̇.

divider by @soft-rains

[the-gentle-wave]

haiku #14, tathev simonyan