So much left unsaid

That I still love you

But saw no other way out

No other way to keep the pain at bay

To force the loss as a way to stand the loss


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Whisper of running streams, and winter lightning.
The wild thyme unseen and the wild strawberry,
The laughter in the garden, echoed ecstasy
Not lost, but requiring, pointing to the agony
Of death and birth.

T. S. Eliot, East Coker


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And so I whirl around and around,
in this breathtaking,
vertignious merry-go-round,
until the reaper
asks me for the last dance.


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eulogy to a hell of a damesome dogs who sleep at night ( Read more... )

Als sie einander acht Jahre kannten
(und man darf sagen: sie kannten sich gut),
kam ihre Liebe plötzlich abhanden.
Wie andern Leuten ein Stock oder Hut.

Sie waren traurig, betrugen sich heiter,
versuchten Küsse, als ob nichts sei,
und sahen sich an und wussten nicht weiter.
Da weinte sie schließlich. Und er stand dabei.

Vom Fenster aus konnte man ( Read more... )

I always thought I was the butterfly that successfully escapes the spider's net
But I am the spider
Trapped in my own net


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Is fake love better than real love? Real love is responsibility, compromise, selflessness, being present, and all that shit. Fake love is magic, excitement, false hope, infatuation, and getting high off the potential that another person is going to save you from yourself.

Melissa Broder, So Sad Today


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The very same day a year ago I followed you to that roof in Italy. This could get very intense, you said. But you didn't imagine how intense it would be and how strongly we both fell for this intensity, this abyss of total immersion.

It scared you as it scared me.

Part of me is still on that roof, waiting for you. Although I sense that the man I ( Read more... )

Don't confuse
the pain of loss
with love
like you always do


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Such a strange calmness
Serenity
Maybe exhaustion
The composure one gets
In view of an insurmountable
Ice shelf
How often did I face it
Tired but confident


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