𝒂𝒓𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒂, 𝒗𝒊𝒕𝒂 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒔

I miss her so much that it hurts.

Me_irl

Edgar Allan Poe, from a letter to Helen Whitman featured in “The last letters of Edgar Allan Poe to Sarah Helen Whitman,”

You know what the saddest thing is? You showed him the deepest corners of your soul. But he closed up like you never fucking happened. His fingertips lingered on your skin. You got so lost in his ocean eyes and his magical touch. The little mischievous smile he put on as he stroked your hair like you were his one and only. The way he pulled you into his arms. You were all his. Divine kisses through your body set you on fire. Every grip was holy — every whisper was celestial — every word felt like love — every dot was connected — every emotion was raw. The world stopped just for us, two lovebirds sharing the same heart beat and rhythm. “ilysm. Souls collided and divided. And now you’re stranded. Silence of his is too damn deafening. Theft of heart. Theft of joy. “ifmy.”

brain: it seems like problems are happening. would you like to pretend they’re not and think about fictional characters instead?

me: yes please

picture of God herself

Li-Young Lee, from “The Hour and What Is Dead”, The City In Which I Love You