#darkacademism

Hold on, Adele

I am in love with an angel. she is so perfect, so sweet. she is so kind, so devoted to others. I am falling in love with her a little more everyday, even though I couldn’t love her more. she is wonderful, she is my delight.

-Audrey in pink.

oh darling, you are so pretty tonight.

And I am glad, I am glad that, though only in imagination, she should think of herself as having once been happy.

— Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Crime and Punishment.

Just like a thousand stories shared between the night’s dark letters of love and tales never written whole, will our love be yet another chapter in the history of this world which never found the light of the suns?

i’m a mess. Dishes are piling up, the flowers died, the clock stopped working 57 days ago but i’m still running out of time.

Isn’t it utterly sad how our minds could travel more than we ever could?

but I’m still glad about the haunted streets my feet never took me to

??????!!!!

(nothing much, that’s just my constant mood <3)

i look at my reflection and can’t help but wonder when I lost myself, where did all the potential go? I mean I don’t even get out of bed now

the feminine urge to never get out of bed

Isn’t it strange how every natural phenomenon can be scientifically explained but our inner edgy-selves only find solace by relating everything to a theory where it’s all inevitably broken and universally doomed

tremendouslysleepdeprivedkid:

with every passing day and every bloodied kiss

the thorny stems of this rose, they prick my tender lips

at the end of every day and at every new moon

i sit by the window and wish to get to see you soon

the blood on my lips, the tears rolling down my cheeks

moisten our old letters when i read them every week

this numbness.

this pain.

it starts to feel like home, every night that i spend alone.

the candlewax, it doesn’t burn me,

the sharp quills, they don’t cut me,

but when i think of you, your being, your life, our love,

it hurts me.

it hurts me, when i realise it’s true,

it hurts me, when my memories are all that remain of you.

when you were carried down the pathway,

subsequently your ashes they flew away.

i stood there looking at the sunset, thinking to myself,

why, oh why, did you have to take my sunshine away?

as i walked through our grove, the flowers they seemed to shrivel,

the air it seemed to bite.

but the only thing on my mind, was your tender face and loving smile.

as i walked endlessly, aimlessly, plucking flowers for no one,

your rose it sat by waiting for someone who’s one with the sun.

with every other kiss, my lips they continue to be pricked

but they keep the petals moist, because all they wait for is your kiss.

you don’t like long baths?

what about bathtubs and bubbles and rubber duckies and warm water and bath salts and the small splashes and wine and candles and relaxation and did I say BUBBLES??

Can y’all stop giving me homework??Like I just wanna light candles near the bathtub and spend the night reading the picture of Dorian Gray in warm water filled with rose petals and once in a while flirting with the moon because why not

Hollows of heart

The blood pours again.

Leaking through the cracks,

Dripping down the legs.

Finally a mirror

Under the feet.

Not roses.

Not thorns.

Just the shade of life

I kept running away from.

the stars love the moon, but the moon is too busy soaking in the light of the sun to know they exist. so they do it from afar- unrequited love.

the moon longs, and so do the stars, but even they know that they don’t even come close to the sun, drowning in it.

that’s when stars finally take the last fall.

…and we wish upon their heartbreaks to save our own.

some hands don’t hold swords

to strike you with

they hold memories and words

and words bleed worse than you ever could

do you ever think about why humans love to slow dance?

i think we find a reason to hold each other’s hearts for a while longer