Amal El-Mohtar/Max Gladstone, This Is How You Lose the Time War

march by Mary Oliver

take me to the place where all the poets went to die, i dont belong and my beloved neither do you

the Windemere peaks look like the perfect place to cry im setting off but not without my muse.

You taught me language, and all I gained from it is that I now know how to curse.

Love as we know it (a thread):

I think my love for tragedies is because of their lack of containment and disappearing moments. The feeling that whatever i am feeling is for the very first and last time acknowledging the fact that I won't ever feel like this ever again for anyone in any circumstances. Whatever i have felt, experienced for the first time will always be a sacred memory which i will preserve. The very belief that whatever happens in the future, I will always reminisce the feeling of warmth I felt on the very first day. That's what tragedy is, it's the mother of beauty. Whatever we find tragic we try to make it last forever.

And they tell me "What is love if not pain, What is love if not the fire burning in your bones".

Your name falls on my tongue like a haunted whisper. Forgotten memories and broken promises are all I remember.

Hold my hand, tell me a lie, love me with it.