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Cosimo Galluzzi
we're not kids anymore.
cherry valley forever
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Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
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@winetruth

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Charles-François Daubigny (1817â1878), Spring Landscape (detail)
Pilots Bay
Sometimes I feel like youâre there still
In that house by the water,
Waiting for me
And Iâd return to you with a kiss, a hug, the morning paper
Weâd sip our coffees collectively, gazing at the sky, at you, at me
As if time eluded us
Distance no longer existed
I will go the rest of this lifetime loving you from afar.
-a.a.
He falls out of love with me while he stirs his tea
I wonder how many days it took us to fall in love
And I wonder how many nights it took to undo that first date
How many slow dances in his apartment, drunk off of wine and Jeff Buckley albums
For us to realize the music sounded better alone
Or with someone else
-a.a.
Reuben Saidman. London Gulls, 1936

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Damage (1992) dir. Louis Malle
Roland Barthes, A Loverâs Discourse: Fragments
Virginia Woolf, A Room of Oneâs Own [originally published 1929]
Gently
You were younger then
Time was kinder to you
In gentle lighting and harsh lines, you wept for feelings youâd never feel again
All the while, your friends were wasting themselves in barrooms and bottled blondes
And you cried for them like you cried for yourself
Partaking in the revelry like you could feel the last time the liquor would pass your lips
And spread its fingertips across the nape of your neck, down down down your back
It would slide its way along the ridges of youth, to find disgust sitting there in the aftermath of the morning.
Yet, you reminded yourself gently, warmly, lovingly
This is what it means to be 20.
Youâre not 20 now but sometimes you feel like you are
Time is not so gentle anymore.
It doesnât dance across your lips,
Instead, it imprints itself in lines by your eyes
You no longer recognize yourself in photos,
But you learn to try
Gently, warmly, and lovingly.
You try.
a.a.
Monday Morning
I wanted your pain. Your suffering. Your Monday mornings. To point at you as if you were a map on my wall and say, âIâve been here. And there. And just along this jagged line. Iâve tasted these streams and made home in those mountains.â Cedar and pine and nothing more. I wanted to avenge my sudden fall and bask in the brilliance of my own death.
I am nothing if not in love.
-a.a.

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Thistle in the Garden
I break my bread alone
In the solitude of the fortress I have created
With hands scarred and touched
I need freedom again
Soon
To feel the wind brush my face and paint my skin red
Violently
I will throw my words to God and He will hear my pleas
There is no good in man that I have seen
So I have created heaven within the thistles.
-a.a.
Restless Warfare
I realized then that I wanted your Tuesdays
The taste of you polished across my teeth
I wanted to smash your vases and pick your flowers and scream your name down city streets
I realized then that I must be in love with you.
Surely, this must be it.
The fine line between misery and acceptance and true, harsh apathy.
-a.a.
To Count the Cost
And yet this,
So simple and misunderstood,
Is what the poets wrote about
What God forbade,
What Iâll cling to forevermore.
The taste of saccharine dripping from old photographs
Memories of before, bleeding into now, hemorrhaging into the future
I didnât understand the feelings then,
But I know now.
Time has always meant nothing, but you have always meant everything.
-a.a.
Untitled.
I want you to tell me you miss me
I want you to lie if you donât
I want to forget this past year and find myself in cigar smoke on a downtown street at 1am
Where sidewalk prophets leisurely stroll and window shop
And the buskers donât ask for recognition, only coin currency
I want to eat at that diner in Tennessee
I want you to be there too
And when the food gets cold and the coffee runs out,
I want to go home with you.
-a.a.
- Je te laisserai des mots -
I hope when you leave, the lights are left on
I hope the windows are open, softly letting the breeze dance through my paperback novels
I hope the sun is out and I can hear the birds
I hope there is peace
When you leave, I hope there is closure
I hope that my hurts didnât leave a mark too large in your memory to cover the love that was felt
I hope the dances are remembered slightly more than the fights
When you leave, I hope you know that I understand why
And I hope that you leave the door cracked behind you.
-a.a.

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Audrey Tautou on the set of Jean-Pierre Jeunetâs Le fabuleux destin d'AmĂŠlie Poulain (2001)
- I had never loved truly until I had loved fully -
it is enough for me, anyway
to share a space, a room, an existence with you
however fleeting it may be
-a.a.