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gnossienne · 8 months

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from A Literate Passion: Letters of Anaïs Nin and Henry Miller (1932-1953)

#letters to dead lovers #henry miller #anais nin

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comfyymoon · 2 years

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platonic dates. platonic dates. platonic dates. let's go to a bookstore together, let's just buy some coffee, let's go eat our favourite food together, let's buy each other flowers, let's write poems for each other, let's write letter to each other, let's go shopping together, let's go on a walk together, let's just go buy groceries together, let's just get some juice and sit on stairs, let's go to the movies, let's go for a hike. let's just be together.

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embeccy · 4 months

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"I know I'll always think of you with something like hurt and nostalgia — and a great deal of love."

- Sylvia Plath

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lostchild02 · 1 year

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Let's talk about the love that I feel when I listen to old bollywood songs describing the purity of love, the love that we can see in their eyes, the love that they share in holding hands gently, the love that is there in the secret glances, the love that is there in sharing earphones, the love that is there in slipping the handwritten love letters in the book that you borrowed, the love that is reading books in the library, the love that is in pressing the flowers that someone gave you in your favourite book, the live where you watch the sunsets and moon in slience together, the love which was pure, the love which was above all. And today when I look at what this generation has made out of love just scares me to think that will we ever be able enough to share love like this ?

#dark academic aesthetic #dead poets society #desi tag #desiblr #ghazals #bollywood #songs #desi tumblr #desi aesthetic #desi #this love #lovers #pure love #eyes #love letters #books & libraries

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4s1na · 29 days

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when I look at him, I feel like a small kid who's staring at the moon knowing that you’d never get to make it yours but still chooses to admire it every day.

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t-h-ballard · 1 year

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"i love you"

You were not half as sweet on me as I was on you. You did not stay up late at night or count the flowers that bloomed. From the start, I should have known "I love you" meant more to me than it did to you.

- t.h. ballard

#dead poets society #classic literature #poetry #writers and poets #dark academia #classic poetry #anthropology #prose #philosophy #light academia #lovers #deep qoute #romantic academia #sylvia plath #oscar wilde #victorian #victorian literature #love quote #love letters

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darlingletslove · 2 years

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scribblersobia · 5 months

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Do you ever think about me, and if yes, then what do you think about me? Do you wonder how I look and what is the color of my eyes? And, have you ever looked at the moon and thought about me like I do? Does the darkness of night seem like the shadow of my hair to you? Does the morning sun smile at you like I smile when I think about you? Have you also imagined our first meeting like I have? And, have you ever created our ''happy life'' image in your mind, where we both are drenching and dancing in the rain, where at the end of the day, I lean on your shoulder, and we are talking about our day, where you don't leave a chance a kiss my forehead and where we have love and only love to share? Love, do you ever think about me?

To the love, I haven't met yet.

@scribblersobia

#a letter to my lover #poeticstories #poetryportal #writerscreed #poeticstateofmind #writerscribbles #poets on tumblr #dead poets society #love letters #letters #words of mine #my letters #sobi writes #scribblersobia

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pokikichuu · 5 days

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MUSE | A Wangxian drabble.

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

Warning: Major Character death.

This drabble includes: Immortal Wei Ying, Poet Lan zhan, Dead Lan zhan, angst but make it poetic, inspired by poetry (Iamnotapoet), love letter, this entire fic is a love letter, first person pov of wei ying.

Summery: Immortal Wei Ying falls in love with Lan Wangji, a Navy Soldier and poet. His faith catches onto him and he looses his love, down to the ocean. In order to forever engrave Lan Wangji's face in his mind, Wei Ying makes paintings and sculptures of him, waiting for the eternal end where he can get a glimpse of him again...

Word count: 969

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

M U S E

Lan Zhan, my dear,

The smell of soil after a drizzle, the sound of leaves grumbling with the wind, the sight of the sun setting under a blanket of purple and orange clouds, the taste of fresh water after a run, nothing can compare to the feeling of your skin against mine.

I don't remember when my life began, I don't see it ending anytime soon either. However, I remember one thing, when your eyes met mine, I felt the most alive.

You were frowning, I was not. I met you on a whim, in the midst of an adventure, but I forgot my purpose when I caught a glimpse of you; your brunette hair flowing with the wind.

You sat straight viewing the vast ocean in front of you, the sunset in front resembled your hazel eyes. Oh, you were breathtaking. I had gathered my courage to approach you, and with God's wish, I had succeeded.

And since then, I remember my days clearly.

At first glance, one might assume you were somewhat of a crude man, even I assumed the same. However, you were as gentle as a lily on a lake, your soft gaze, kind laughs and gentle kisses kept me awake at nights. Even during the sleepless nights, you laid by my side. Then I would admire your lips, your eyes, your pretty scar on your left cheek and you would chuckle.

Your chuckles were my favourite, it still is. It will forever be.

When I look out into the sunset, I see your eyes. When I make my way to the market and come across the water lily on the lake, it only reminds me of your touch, your fragrance.

Pity me, for falling for a sailor, a soldier, a poet and a writer. You were all those things, but to me, you were always my friend, my family and my lover.

You had pages after pages of poems about my eyes, I had a hut full of paintings of your face. How can we be so different and similar at the same time? As if, you were the full moon who only shows up every twenty eight days, where me, the sun, waited to meet you everyday.

Pity me, for waiting for you still, knowing you will never reach the shore.

Pity me, for being a widower without ever eloping with you, my love.

My love,

You were the one I would paint with, laugh with, the one I was willing to die with. If only I had known, you would never return, I would’ve drowned myself in you, with you.

Dying with the earth seems to be a blessing to an outsider, only I know, how much of a curse that is, how dying and lying beside your astray grave is more peaceful than living forever with the thought of you gone from this world.

Why? Why must I suffer? Why must I be cursed with such a power?

I remember very less, my family, their image is something I can’t seem to recall. I only linger with their voices and some words they have written down; I cherish them. My acquaintances from childhood, I neither remember their faces nor their names. They have escaped my memory; like wind flows through spring.

However, I can not bear to forget you. Forgetting you is equal to losing the most precious treasure of my life. I can’t bear it.

Slowly, my little hut became your shrine. The painting of you, your details that only I know of, your smile that only I saw, your gaze that only I received, each moment, each fond memory ended up on wrinkled paper with paint made from berries you and I planted together. Your face, body, hands, I captured them in soil from the island I first met you on.

Tears roll down my freckled cheeks as I sculpt your face, from memory that is as vivid as my dreams of you. The softness of the soil can not justify your soft skin, however I had to make do of what I had. As my fingers go over your jaw, I almost expect the lifeless sculpture to smile and tell me “I love you,” like you used to. Oh, how I wish that came true! How I wish I could sculpt you back to life!

All I, a hopeless man, can do is wish for something that is not meant to stay mine.

God gifted me you for only thirteen years, equal to spec of dust in a desert compared to my lifetime. However, how pathetic am I to hold onto that for the rest of eternity? Hold onto a grain of sand and think of it as my desert?

Even the sunset in a desert reminds me of your eyes.

My lips have gone chapped, by kissing the hard stone that I made into your lips. My fingers have calluses from moulding your pretty face out of the soil. My cheek now has the same scar you had, whilst mine was intentional. All my clothes have the same paint stains as the hundreds of paintings I made of you.

I would rather die than forget you, I wouldn’t let you be the gust of wind that flows through spring, that blows through my mind in a few years.

I don’t know when My time will come, but when I will get to meet you, if I do, I want you to look at me the same way you did for thirteen years. With your eye-smile, with your blushed ears and with a tight hug.

I will forever wait for that day, while I spend my life recreating you in every art form there is.

Except poetry, as you were the best at that.

#mdzs #writing #poetry #poem #wei ying #lan zhan #wei wuxian #lan wan #drabble #the untamed #mxtx mdzs #mxtx #light angst #angst #dead lovers #omg #immortality #love letters #get tissues for your issues

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melsdreamweaving · 3 months

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The moon's soft glow,

Our dreams

and hearts.

Whispering low,

Dancing horizontally.

He above...

I below.

Our loving symphony,

Hope laid bare.

Starlike diamonds...

Gleaming

Painting

As we are ...

Panting.

Your sweat,

Silver beads,

On my neck.

Nature's lullaby,

Eros tune,

Our cosmic orchestra

Beneath the voyeur moon.

-I love you

#poetry #creative writing #writers and poets #dead poets society #fiction #original poem #poem #poetsandwriters #poets on tumblr #drawing #lovers #i love him #love quotes #love poems #love #love letters #love poetry #love poem

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hispoeticplaylist · 3 months

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hispoeticplaylist & therhymedsoul

So I'll love you, one poem at a time, With phrases and words that perfectly rhyme.

With spaces and full stops and metaphors and paradox, With half burnt candles, old books & empty pen box.

I'll love you with all of a person's might, With pauses, and dots, with words that'll fit just right.

With glasses of wine and susets to remember, I'll love you all the way through the May's and Decembers.

With flowers and leaves and even on ordinary days, I'll try to fill your scrapbook with love all the way..

With the cold, if not the warmth, With tears and skin..all for thee, I'll love you like a poem, that set this stringed flute free.

hispoeticplaylist & therhymedsoul

With all the unwavering hope, and joys that'll be gone..I'll love you until in the whole world, our love is known.

With poetry and sunshine and safely kept rose, And read you your fav book until your eyes seem to close.

I'll love you, and love you, and love you, In the ways the love isn't framed..I'll speak but in hushed honeyed voice.. I'll love you. Love you. Love you. My love would never feel ashamed.

I'll love you, to the point where poetries will die, Papers will crumble to ground, I'll love you, love you, and I'll love you a different kind of love.

My love. Unbound.

#love #love letters #love poem #lovers #poets on tumblr #poems and poetry #poetry #spilledink #prose #sad poems #sad poetry #poemsbyme #dead poets society

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gnossienne · 5 months

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