god.

— Hozier, “From Eden”

“I have been astonished that Men could die Martyrs for religion – I have shudder’d at it – I shudder no more – I could be martyr’d for my Religion – Love is my religion – I could die for that – I could die for you.”

— John Keats, in a letter to Fanny Brawne

“What were the use of my creation, if I were entirely contained here? My great miseries in this world have been Heathcliff’s miseries, and I watched and felt each from the beginning: my great thought in living is himself. If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger: I should not seem a part of it.—My love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods: time will change it, I’m well aware, as winter changes the trees. My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight, but necessary… I am Heathcliff! He’s always, always in my mind: not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being.”

— Emily Bronte, Wuthering Heights

“I’m a sorcerer, my love’s like incense…. / I’m a sorcerer, my love’s a fire, an altar, an ember. / I turn into smoke.”

— Adonis, “Transformations of the Lover”

“Thou art not luminousYet an altar of jewels,An altar of shimmering jewels,Would pale in the lightOf that darkness,Pale in the lightOf thy nightness.”

— Langston Hughes, “Poem (To the Black Beloved)”

“My church offers no absolutes / She tells me “Worship in the bedroom” / The only Heaven I’ll be sent to / Is when I’m alone with you.”

— Hozier, “Take Me to Church”   

“Imagine yourself a sun pyramid draped in green vines. Let me climb your steps and worship the brilliant, blinding sky from above the treeline.

Tell me, what names have been whispered at your altar? What language would you like me to use when I whisper yours?”

— Kerry Banazek, “As an Experiment”

— Jeff Buckley, “Lover, You Should Have Come Over” (selected lines)

“I’ll follow thee and make a heaven of hell.To die upon the hand I love so well.”

— William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night’s Dream

“Forget Eden.We’re not going back.Adam and EveHad no regrets.“Good riddance,”She said.“So we were fed.He treated us like animals.Adam, I love you.”“I love you, too,”He said.“Nothing beats breadBaked with your sweat.”Forget Eden.We’re not going back.”

— Reesom Haile, “No Regrets”

“There, in the sulk of her bottom lip, I find myself talking about a heaven that only exists when she is looking at me.”

— Azra Tabassum, “Take Me to Church” ( @5000letters​ )

“I don’t know how to become one with you.If you’re heaven, then tell me.I will kneel to every god.If you’re hell, then tell me.I will fill the earth with sin.”

— Abdulla Pashew, “Union

“When I was kissin’ on my baby / And she’d put her love down, soft and sweet / In the low lamp light I was free / Heaven and Hell were words to me.”

— Hozier, “Work Song”

— William Shakespeare, Romeo & Juliet

“It’s you, it’s you, it’s all for you / Everything I do / I tell you all the time / Heaven is a place on Earth with you / Tell me all the things you wanna do…/ They say that the world was built for two.”

— Lana Del Rey, “Video Games”

“Tell her you feel most religious when she’s sitting naked in a chair.Tell her religion is all you need. “

— Kimberley Grey, “How to Keep the One You Love”

“Your kiss is honey and your touch scorches like fire, and I worship it.”

— Neil Gaiman, American Gods

— Hozier, “Take Me to Church”

“A cathedral, him pressing againstme, his lips at my neck, and yes, I do believehis mouth is heaven, his kisses falling over melike stars.”

— Richard Siken, “Saying Your Names”

“They can hold against meNo sin except my love for youCome to meDon’t go away

Let the zealots thinkLoving is sinfulNever mindLet me burn in the hellfireOf that sin.”

— Mihri Hatun, “At One Glance”

You can never go home again

Are you becoming what you've always hated?

This isn't how life is supposed to feel

irsshawty on Pinterest / I Saw The TV Glow / internetfavorite on Pinterest / kiyogakukai on Pinterest / Spotify on Pinterest / ladycranes on Pinterest / micheallasboard on Pinterest / Ryan O'Connell / norhanelhadry474 on Pinterest / @inanotherunivrse on Tumblr / ??? / Charles Wright, Scar Tissue in "Scar Tissue" / Barbara Kingsolver, The Lacuna / Priyer on Pinterest / vangore on X / perfumebathing on Instagram / marvinandrea89 on Pinterest / @hannahlockillustration on Tumblr / stickybaby on We Heart It / lesedimorapeli25 on Pinterest / Jnkskxm on Pinterest / Jeff Vandermeer, Annihilation / Fernando Pessoa, "English Song", A Little Larger Than the Entire Universe: Selected Poems / Jean-Paul Sartre, Being and Nothingness / MrsandMrStyles on Pinterest / Chuck Palahniuk / justgiveittime on Pinterest / Anaïs Nin, The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 6: 1955-1966 / Mary Macdonald, romanticizeaquietlife on Pinterest / Gillian Flynn, Gone Girl /

You make yourself smaller and smaller and smaller because you want to be loved.

Smaller because if someone were to give you a sliver of it, it would be more than enough for you.

You wish for the world to touch you delicately, as you walk with your freezing hands down a lane.

Almost ashamed of your desire- to live, to breathe, to consume; so you just hide it in the deepest ends of your pocket. Your want.

Desperation looks like a disease if done right. Desperation looks like loneliness if done right. Desperation sometimes becomes a distant memory, a letter to yourself, a plea to god.

Desperation is a hungry lover, ever consuming. Desperation is a doting mother, a loving father, a happy child, a homeless beggar. Desperation is you.

Desperation is consuming too quickly and then seeing it smeared on your face, crimson red like your blood. The evidence of your want, of your pleas, and so you try to hide it. And so you walk down the lane with your freezing hands in your pockets; fists shut.

Love is the warm tea that slides down your throat, soothing your heart and desperation is the cup that holds it. Far out of your reach.

Desperation looks like a peeled tangerine, shining in nectar, or you; with your ribs wide open, heart on show, blood in your mouth, fists open.

Desperation is being alive, it’s a plea to live, it’s a raw wound and it’s your mothers hand in your hair.

Desperation is wanting to be untouchable and having no needs.

mother, you were right- i do damage. for the sake of all the damage that’s been done to me.

I HAVE MY MOTHER'S FACE AND HER GRIEF