Marilyn Monroe (by Sam Shaw 1956)

Tracey Emin

“I used to dislike being sensitive. I thought it made me weak. But take away that single trait, and you take away the very essence of who I am. You take away my conscience, my ability to empathize, my intuition, my creativity, my deep appreciation for the little things, my vivid inner life, my deep awareness of others’ pain, and my passion for it all.”

— (via purplebuddhaquotes)

the gentle hand reaching out from the grave. the wandering ghost and the haunting of a life that wasn’t meant to be. a life spent with you.

you were so bad for me, the way you bent me over my own grave and called it love. moaning into that demon’s kiss as I rolled my eyes in ecstasy, ready to give into this little death. ready to die and haunt the corridors of each other’s lives. how sweet destructive romance tastes on our lips, how empty all this is.

we made a graveyard of this didn’t we, honey? dug up too many skeletons and wandered too far from home, feigning surprise when we got lost in the dark. walking amongst our own destruction, holding each other tightly.

rotten love. dirty, rotten love that was dead before it even started.

losing you felt like something elemental went from the world. like the sun disappeared, swallowed herself up with grief. I miss the nights where we’d dance to david bowie, laugh and paint each other’s faces. his music connected us. we’d hold hands and sing softly to lazarus. we’d go to camden, browse the vinyl and argue over which of his albums were the best.

when he died, the world turned grey. we both cried. held each other. neither of us could believe someone could just disappear like that. ironic, huh?

my girl from mars. my rebel lady. my blackstar. with your silver dress and red shoes. 70s soul and clumsy dancing. i miss you so much. you’re so far away from me now. do you read me? can you hear me? let the stars be your guide. come back to me. please.

and i would do anything for you to stay

calling your lover "my lover" is the most TENDER and SOFT and HOMOEROTIC thing you can call them and we should do that more often as a society

here darling. summer isn’t so bright this year so come lean on my shoulder and baptise your sorrows in the valleys of my body. I know you’re crumbling under the weight of it all so lean on me until you’re strong enough to walk again. some flowers don’t have sturdy stems, and that’s okay. doesn’t make them any less beautiful, right? let my arms be your peace until the world outside stops sounding so much like violence, the chaos and busyness of it all. come, my love. mind over matter. you’ll start feeling like yourself again, I promise. love is being the hook, line and sinker. love is being the fish and the fisherman. love is knowing that sometimes it isn’t 50/50, that sometimes I must give more than I take. but love is also knowing you’d do the same for me any day of the week.

angel-haired boy, your kisses fall on me like rain. with your shy smile and warm palms. ive slipped up and called you “baby”, crossing my fingers and hoping that you don’t think I’m crazy. angel-haired boy, turn to me and smile. speak to me in the language of lovers. let me kiss you till my lipstick turns your lips cherry red. angel-haired boy, won’t you sweeten this body like spring sweetens the air? walk over my grave, whisper my name. watch me rise from the dead to be yours again. in this life and the next.