hazy thoughts

kilonovai:

tell me the way home

from a midnight trek through the pine

to echolocated dreams

Close your tired mind.

Keep breathing. In, out, again.

Your roots will guide you.

2024-10-19

In sun-baked dunes where shadows stretch and fade,  
The parched earth cracks, its thirst a silent plea.  
Each grain of sand, like time, slips through my hands,  
Yet still I yearn for clouds I seldom see.  
A barren heart, like desert, longs for rain.  

The azure sky, a canvas cold and bare,  
Reflects my longing: vast and empty space.  
I wander lost, a traveler in despair,  
For every glance I take, I feel the chase,  
As cacti bloom, yet wither in the heat.  

The whispers of the wind, a soft lament,  
Remind me of the voice I crave to hear.  
Each droplet missed, like words left unspent,  
A drought of touch that lingers far too near,  
Yet still I reach, as if to fill the void.  

The sun descends, a molten orb of gold,  
And shadows lengthen, stretching toward the night.  
The stars emerge, their beauty to behold,  
Yet still my heart beats on for lost delight,  
Like rain that falls on thirsty, waiting ground.  

So here I stand, both parched and yearning still,  
In endless sands, where silence fills the air.  
I seek the storm that quenches every thrill,  
Though wisdom whispers I should not despair,  
For even drought can birth a bloom anew.  
This is for you.

noctivagant-ghost:

i gathered shadows from the floor,
to dress the space you left behind,
yet every shape became the door,
i never had the heart to find.

Breathed life in, breath taken away

Held together in cupped hands

Clenched fist, holding,

Holding,

Grasping:

Our frozen bubble in time

It must thaw

Must pop

[I] must release

Our held breath

fatimazainab:

Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin

vexheart:

We never know until we do.

thertg:

and we said goodbye

as our hearts were hung

from frayed threads above

a love left undone.

—RTG

Mistake neither kindness for weakness nor composure for ease.

quoteastic:

One of the hardest things you will ever have to do, my dear, is to grieve the loss of a person who is still alive.

You can run from your pain, but you’ll surely tire before it will.

Sometimes we give things to others, and though

We’d never wish to take them back again,

We offer what we have with trust to show,

Believing love will stay and never end.

But what if what we gave was not our own?

A gift we promised first to someone else?

Should love be shared between two hearts alone,

Or will it falter, lost in separate wells?

Is love a thing of limits set in stone?

A well that drains when given out too wide?

Or can it stretch and grow, and ever own

The space for all, no matter hearts that bide?

To love two souls, can all hearts truly burn?

Or must we choose, and let the other yearn?

For love, once given, seeks a steady place,

But torn between, may lose its sacred grace.

I’ve made my choice to cut one heart away,

To stay true to love the one that I still claim.

But what of you? What thoughts might you convey—

Can love, once split, ever be the same?

thoughtcascades:

nobody talks about how addictive the right kind of wrong feels

jadorupabosblog:

If I live again to see you…

that you have not been silent

when you make the new friendships

when you remember

I promised to come back…if I live

adding a confession of love to you

that you will not be silent

to tell them I was your friend

snippets of some things we did…our likes

when you make the new friendships

that closing day of parting from each other

will be as poignant as any new beginning

when all I am leaving behind is highlighted

in your person the essences of love and life

that even to the new friend I am not strange

if I live again to see you… even if only in writing

I miss an angel who was never mine;

I wished her goodbye before crossing more lines.

It was never our intent to grow close like we did,

With chemistry there, we became fast friends.

The more we shared, it seemed we were twins,

So much in common: Venn diagram, thin ends.

Such a pleasure, our chats, as we worked through our days—

A name on my screen, I’d not seen her face.

Conversations grew deeper, the banter gave way

To talks after hours, when nights turned toward day.

We’d fight off our sleep just to savor the time,

Not knowing, not naming, fresh love in its prime.

This love had no place in the life that I led—

A ring on my finger and vows in my head.

Two children, a wife, a home filled with light,

Yet I slept on the couch alone every night.

She knew this, she listened, she never did judge,

She cheered on my kids, never whispered a nudge.

She gave what I missed—just warmth, just a space,

A moment of care in a cold, distant place.

A dream made it clear what I fought to ignore—

The closeness, the tension, the pull wanting more.

I woke with a jolt, a pit in my chest,

The guilt and the longing I’d failed to suppress.

I told her, she knew, but we had no plan,

We tried pulling back, but the bond only spanned.

I cut ties, I returned, I tried to let go,

But she was my anchor, my solace, my glow.

In secret, we stayed, though it burdened my mind,

She never once asked, never crossed any line.

She listened, she cared, when my home life felt rough,

And somehow, her kindness was more than enough.

The guilt lost its sting and danger set in,

I swore to my vows, yet I still let her in.

We never once kissed, no lines left askew,

But I lived in a world where our love still felt true.

When cheating felt close, I knew it must end,

She said I was faithful, though I still felt condemned.

Yet had it been her, she’d have ached, she’d have cried,

She knew in her heart pretend love was a lie.

So I said goodbye, though it shattered my chest,

I still tell myself I was doing my best.

I chose what I built, the life that I swore,

Yet part of me aches like I’ve lost something more.

I hope she is well. I hope she can heal,

She’s strong, she’s young, she’ll find someone else real.

When she does she’ll realize “real” isn’t unique

And her time’s better spent on a man much less weak.

remanence-of-love: