Kali-waya

Hoverla, Ukrainian Carpathians

Oleksandra Bardash

I settled for love that only left me scarred

Only told me I'm gorgeous, when he's semi-hard

And I cried in the bathroom while he played guitar

Now I lay in the bedroom and I travel far

He called me a flower and still broke my heart

He picked on my petals and tore me apart

Now I'm out in the garden 'cause love didn't last

Last in real life, so I spend my time

Reading about it, turning the pages, and pages

Allowing myself to fade in the story about him

Kiss me in chapters, love me in writing

I'll be your coat in the thunder and lightning

We'll have a house and the house is a home

And the home has a fence and I won't be alone

Leave a kiss on my forehead and I won't have to worry

'Cause our hearts never break if we're living in a story

And I'll make you breakfast and some for the kids

And they'll play piano and take vitamins

And they'll believe in love 'cause they look up to us

And you would just adore me, living in a story

I'll be the author, the insomniac

Sell creative and maybe, I get paperback

And I'll bookmark the pages to freeze where I'm at

Because time doesn't freeze, I'll beg and I'll plead, just to

Wait here a second, the snow falls upon

Your eyelashes, it's heaven, reality's hell

We'll be somewhere in Devon and we'll bake

A pumpkin pie, spend all of my time

Reading about it, turning the pages, and pages

Allowing myself to fade in the story about him

Kiss me in chapters, love me in writing

I'll be your coat in the thunder and lightning

We'll have a house and the house is a home

And the home has a fence and I won't be alone

Leave a kiss on my forehead and I won't have to worry

'Cause our hearts never break if we're living in a story

And I'll make you breakfast and some for the kids

And they'll play piano and take vitamins

And they'll believe in love 'cause they look up to us

And you would just adore me, living in a story, there'll be

No pain and no crying, no sitting in silence

No wishing for change, no change in my diet

No guilt on your conscience, no blood on your hands

No salt in our seas, no stones in our sand, there's

No hatred or violence, no little white lyin'

No waiting for pain, no love unrequited

No thorns in my roses, no sorrow unplanned

'Til then I'm content with my book in my hand

“She wasn’t so much afraid of dying as she was of forgetting to live her life.”

Laurie Gilmore, The Pumpkin Spice Café

love as recognition

anna gavalda / friedrich nietzsche / clarice lispector / jandy nelson / rebecca perry / mhairi mcfarlane

graveyard

“He’s rich.” When people asked how you took them, how you convinced them away from me. “He’s rich,” I’d say. “He’s rich.” And you don’t understand what the word means. They were young. They only knew appetite, and “Here,” you said, “Come with me. Gorge yourselves.” How could I compete with that? You didn’t feed them though, did you? You starved them. Less and less of them came back each time, until one day they were empty. They were syphoned. You started filling them up with… What did you fill them up with, Roderick? What did you have to fill them with? Because you weren’t rich, were you?

THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER | 1.08 “The Raven”

Barred owl

Never Be Alone