#poe

It's just a simple yes or no. God! Why can't you just give me an answer? Why is it so dificult for you to realise That this means everything yo me. But why should you care? It's not like you have the ability to kill me Or do you? You know that you do. So why do you pretend that everything's fine? You know that it hurts. It hurts so much every day and night, I cry myself to sleep sometimes. I guess you had no idea, How much this means to me. But you do now, So are you still going to keep me waiting? Well hard luck'cause I've given up, I've given up on you. ↗

— http www.

#love

There is the staircase, there is the sun. There is the kitchen, the plate with toast and strawberry jam, your subterfuge, your ordinary mirage. You stand red-handed. You want to wash yourself in earth, in rocks and grass What are you supposed to do with all this loss? In the daylight we know what's gone is gone, but at night it's different. Nothing gets finished, not dying, not mourning; the dead repeat themselves, like clumsy drunks lurching sideways through the doors we open to them in sleep; these slurred guests, never entirely welcome, even those we have loved the most, especially those we have loved the most, returning from where we shoved them away too quickly: from under the ground, from under the water, they clutch at us, they clutch at us, we won't let go. ↗

— Margaret Atwood

#poetry #love

Pull the trigger and claim my blood as yours; To get it you must knock down these doors. A secret which hides in every room. Turn the knob slowly or soon face your doom. You released the blackness unto my heart. You hung my heart up; And pierced it with a dart. A child's game is what you mustn't play. I warned you so but here we are today. So here's the gun with a bullet inside. Pull the trigger and watch me die. ↗

— http www.

#love

About your easy heads my prayers I said with syllables of clay. What gift, I asked, shall I bring now Before I weep and walk away? Take, they replied, the oak and laurel. Take our fortune of tears and live Like a spendthrift love. All we ask Is the one gift you cannot give. ↗

— Tana French

#love

...loving a fairy lady with a magic song will leave you desolate on a cold hillside ... but from there you can see the stars... ↗

— John Geddes

#fairy #magic #poetry #stars #love

Yo ansí, náufrago amante y peregrino, que en borrasca de amor por Lisis muero, sigo insano furor de alto destino. ↗

— Francisco de Quevedo

#love

Only union with you gives joy. The rest if tearing down one building to put up another. ↗

— Rumi

#poetry-quotes #rumi #love

Love leads us to write poetry because love improves our hearing; like prayer, poetry is every bit as much about listening as it is about speaking. To 'get' the poem is to hear the eloquence of the silence that it calls forth through its manifestation of love. ↗

— David Patterson

#poem #poems #poetry #wrestling-with-the-angel #love

Nations conquered and true love prevails, all encompassed in a poets tale. ↗

— R.J. Craddock

#nations #poet #tale #love

Knowing me better than I think anyone should Except, perhaps No, probably No, definitely Definitely except you ↗

— Thalia Circe

#poetry #understanding #love