One day, maybe,
his eyes will look at me again—
but from another face.
A child running, laughing,
with pieces of him that aren't mine.
And I’ll be walking through it all—
touching everything we knew.
A flower,
the grass,
the lies written in the photos.
He’s everywhere,
just never with me.
But tell me—
how could you share a piece of yourself
with someone else?
Everything is fine there
Shen Yueh, translated by Kenneth Rexroth, from "Farewell to Fan Yun at an Ch'eng,"
source
اريكا يونغ| الخوف من الموت
Needed
if it's good enough for you, then it deserves to be made. don't let anyone else decide if your story is worth it or not.
Once I reached your hand, the voices vanished into nothing. The world quieted as my body rested like a baby in a dream— full of you, and a happier me.
Was it always this warm? Is it really my duvet, or did you reach the child in me, build her a shelter where all her fears could finally fall asleep— settle and feel at home?