i'll give you the sun

Oh, the things we invent when we are scared

“Grief is love’s souvenir. It’s our proof that we once loved. Grief is the receipt we wave in the air that says to the world: Look! Love was once mine. I love well. Here is my proof that I paid the price.”

She placed you in the center of her spiraling winds, right at the heart of the odd calm at her storm’s core.

“We circled each other, wary, abandoned, full of longing.”

“This is a story / about the first tragedy / ever written. / This is a story / about you.”

In winter my love is among the beasts of the forest.

“Look, just as time isn’t inside clocks love isn’t inside bodies: bodies only tell the love.”

“You are my truth, and I am your question. […] You are my garden, and I am your shadows”

Candlelight for two is a date; I faintly remember those. Candlelight alone is a séance— forgive me, my dearly departed for crying out so often, for still needing you so damn much.

“Now my wishes are down to two: / Staying alive. And wanting to.”

“I want too much, she thought. I want everything. I want day and night, sleeping and waking, world without end, amen. Someone warned her once that it was fatal to tell a man you loved him. ‘What I really want,’ she said, ‘deep down, is stillness, safety. The feeling you’d always be there. I love you. I think I must have loved you without knowing it all my life.’”

“And her eyes were green, glass-green, malachite green, the cloudy green of seawater perturbed and carrying a weight of sand.”

The earth doesn't comfort, it only covers up if you have the decency to stay quiet