L. V., I Found This Poem Underneath Your Nails

Think about this:
You and Death—

sitting down for afternoon tea
in the garden of my mind, talking
whilst flowers bloomed
and grew redder in the backdrop.

Worms traverse the driveway like lost men in the Sahara.

- L. V.

Detail of "Musician Smoking a Cigarette in the Background of Copenhagen" by Gerda Wegener (Danish, 1886-1940)

During days that You aren’t there, Death becomes lonely.
He sits back in His chair and puts His feet up, takes a cigarette out
from His coat pocket, lights it up to fill the air with His sorrow.
Then, You, in your old suit, reappear out of nowhere,
and all of a sudden, it is summer again.

- L. V.

In my mind,
there exists only two seasons:
summer
and
not summer.

- L. V.

L. V., i found this poem underneath your nails

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1 year ago

List five things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who liked or reblogged something from you! Get to know your people <3

hope you have a wonderful day!!

(ps, i got your link i'm just waiting to get my laptop read them properly)

Literature. [Plath, Sidney Sheldon, Pessoa, Woolf, Toni Morrison…]

Tea. [Iced, during the warm weather. Hot, when it's cold outside.]

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(i'm glad to hear this. hope you like it!)

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thank you for asking <3

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6 months ago

Film still (detail) from Ponyo, 2008
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L. V., i found this poem begging you to be gentle with my heart

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3 years ago

L. V., i found this poem where the ocean ends

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10 months ago

I can’t do poetry, my words won’t write, if you could help me, that would be quite alright :)

As you can see, my poetry is shit.

"Poetry at its best can do you a lot of harm." —Sylvia Plath

"Poetry, I feel, is a tyrannical discipline. You’ve got to go so far so fast in such a small space; you’ve got to burn away all the peripherals." —Sylvia Plath

Are you certain you still want to write poetry, dear stranger?

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10 months ago

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L. V., I Found This Poem Washed Up On Shore

L. V., i found this poem washed up on shore

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L. V., you tell me it’s okay

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L. V., excerpts from a past life

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10 months ago

- painting by Remedios Varo, "Dolor reumático" ("Rheumatic pain"), 1948
- words by L. V.:

I thought of you too much that you turned into a god

L. V., i found this poem worshipping at your feet

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