Love crosses its islands, from grief to grief,
it sets roots, watered with tears,
and no one - no one - can escape the heart’s progress
as it runs, silent and carnivorous.
You and I searched for a wide valley, for another planet
where the salt wouldn’t touch your hair,
where sorrows couldn’t grow because of anything I did,
where bread could live and not grow old.
A planet entwined with vistas and foliage,
a plain, a rock, hard and unoccupied:
we wanted to build a strong nest
with our own hands, without hurt or harm or speech,
but love was not like that: love was a lunatic city
with crowds of people blanching in their porches.
Because I have no words of my own. Because this is beautiful, and we all want, need, deserve more beauty in our lives.
Seventeen and studying Psychology. I like books, coffee, lyricism, magic hour, (in)signifcant moments, free-verse poetry, mental disorders, female anatomy, pretty smiles, late night conversations, and the time it takes for two people to transcend the boundary between strangers and friends.
I keep sadness at bay by constantly falling in love with the little things in life. My name is Anna and this is where I try to write.
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