only your name echoes in my head again and again
like a crowd in a sports match except it's my mind alone cheering you on and calling out to you as if you'd telepathically hear me one of these days
of everything I thought you could be.
I made you out to be so much more than what you actually were.
I fell in love with a version of you that only existed in my head.
I was holding onto this unrealistic version of you.
it wasn’t hard to let go of someone who mistreated,
abused,
walked over,
underappreciated,
devalued,
and neglected me.
it wasn’t hard to let go of somebody who brought me to my lowest.
it was hard to let go of the hope that you would change.
it was hard to let go of the potential I fell in love with.
it was hard to let go of everything I thought you could be.
In the morning, when our love is as tranquil as dew
I will think of two entities
Just Me and You.
Our journey, future, present and past
What our love entails, and how long it will last.
In the afternoon, at the pinnacle of our joy
I will hasten to remind you
That our foes will attempt to destroy
That which, we most cherish and unquestionably enjoy.
In the evening, when we have gained and lost
Our love will still hold firm
By any means or any cost
We will reflect and laugh about memories from our prime
And we will cling firmly on each other’s wrinkled hands
While we wait for our time.
©scars-like-these
in another universe, i’ll find love
gaby dunn // everything everywhere all at once // ghina rai // @inanotherunivrse // bianca sparacino // gaby dunn.
“You came into my life—not as one comes to visit (you know, not ‘taking one’s hat off’) but as one comes to a kingdom where all the rivers have been waiting for your reflection, all the roads, for your steps. Fate wanted to correct its mistake. Fate wanted to correct its mistake—as if it has asked my forgiveness for all its previous deceptions.”
— “Letters to Véra” Vladimir Nabokov. 1923. (via themovinglip)
The Distillery is a front for a guild of expert assassins, each codenamed after alcohol. Each member is skilled in a number of things, but when an important job really needs doing and nothing less than perfection is to be expected, a letter is always received with two words: “Send Whiskey.”
the pain is unlike anything I could have ever imagined.
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