Violets-and-honey - Violets And Honey

this is it? is this what growing up is all about? we pass joy around in a bottle of cheap wine for one last time. I know, everyone is constantly changing and the earth is spinning and eventually everything happens just like it’s supposed to. but if my car were to crash on my way back to the city I call my new home, I wouldn’t be angry. my mom buys herself flowers now and I think that’s a good thing. she also keeps my scissors in a different shelf. and the tree in our backyard is gone. you never know when it’s the last time. is growing up nothing more than feeling younger than you are and leaving all the things you love so dearly behind?

-e.f

do you miss me like i miss you?

do you feel the same heartbreaking pain as i do?

or is it only me who feels this way?

Henri Gervex, Rolla (detail), 1878.

Musée des Beaux-Arts de Bordeaux.

Diana, Huntress by Jules Joseph Lefebvre (1879)

Sylvia Plath, from “The Jailer.”

Ama Codjoe, from Bluest Nude: Poems; “Bluest Nude”

[Text ID: “I crave. I want to be seen clearly or not at all.”]

in front of my mother and my sisters, i pretend love is cheap and vulgar. i act like it's a sin — i pretend that love is for women on a dark path. but at night i dream of a love so heavy it makes my spine throb — i dream up a lover who makes love like he is separating salt from water.

— "salt", salma deera

First born daughter playing therapist

Apology letters to anyone I’ve ever kissed

I think this weekend I’ll go on an alcohol bender

But at least drinks are free when you’re the bartender.

I imagine spring arrives black dress, thigh boots, satin glove begrudging and disinterested for 𝒫𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑒𝓅𝒽𝑜𝓃𝑒 has left her love. I imagine she's kept her habits from the dark depths of hell blowing smoke in the face of daffodil and bluebell. The world opens up with sweetness and glee and she rolls her eyes muttering "yeah... It's me."

— Carolina Outcrop

objects in art: swords/daggers