Why do we never talk about this?
Friendly reminder that Remus Lupin is a canonically gay character during PoA.
Blogs, poetry, prose, basically the innermost workings of my body and mind..
Me: Shall I compare thee to a summers day?
Me: God dammit!!!
Me: That is NOT how I would start!!
"I want to show you
I love you
in more ways than one,
so I’ll leave kisses like
whisper in your ear like
make you blush like
caress you like a
and run with you like a
river- you’re bouquets in
the sweet that sleeps in
the nectar on
the ghost in
and the blue in
Brian Dominguez (@h0wled-h0riz0ns)
You write, using the word
as though you love it…
Maybe you do.
Or maybe it defines you…
Webster defines it as
“Playfully mean or cruel”
I don’t believe that is you.
Your words cut to the quick
(as well they should)
but “causing sexual excitement”?
I believe that is true.
Mischievous, unruly, merciless…
Perhaps with your quill..
but are you as talented
with your tongue?
forsaken long before you knew
there was nothing you could possibly do
Buried beneath a thousand lies
You know nothing of love
only sorrow, regret, and the pain
of the needle as it enters your vein and washes you clean of your sins
Screams in the night
as fists kiss the flesh of the one
who knows nothing of what she has done
Asking God for her suffering to end Blade to flesh
Skin peeled back to reveal what’s inside
Torment ends as no longer you hide The demons that eat you alive
Then come to me
Run your fingers through my hair
and grab a fist full
Purr into my ear…
“I’m not done with you yet..”
Find the beauty
In the worst
Of moments for
The world is so
Full of pain
The lines of your mouth
haunt my dreams
both day and night
I bet you taste like strawberries and champagne
I imagine your voice, though I’ve never heard it
Soft and velvety, with the lilt of a child
I never want to see you cry.
You have accidentally possessed my soul
from halfway across the world
I know you didn’t mean to.
Silence is a language that most of us don’t speak very well. It speaks volumes, because it’s not always what you say, but rather what you don’t. Silence can say bitterly, “I hate you, the way the darkness abhors a rainbow.” It can also speak of regret, “If it must be done then leave it to me, but I won’t like it.” But most importantly, silence can say those powerful words of passion, “I love you.”
When silence says “I love you,” if the person being addressed isn’t fluent in the language of silence, they may never take notice of the scalding heat hidden in those invisible words. Or worse, they will come to resent you for the very silence that was calling to them earnestly… “I love you!” Your silent voice screams it, and you recall that saying, “If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?” And I doubt myself sometimes, I doubt her sometimes, does our love indeed exist? I feel as ignorant as Albert Einstein when he asked a fellow physicist and friend Niels Bohr, if he believed that “the moon does not exist if nobody is looking at it.” Bohr replied that however hard Einstein tried, he could NOT in fact prove that the moon did exist under that circumstance. And so, great minds may be fooled by silence.
However, to someone who owns silence the way a man owns the value of his word, to those who carefully place it strategically between dried words of crispy tinder the way air is softly blown from ones lips into the base of a kindling flame, that person will possess a pyre that scorches even the brightest of summer suns. Silence feeds passion, it is the spice of anticipation.
Silence sometimes speaks to us when we aren’t truly listening. We might think, “Why can’t I write? Why can’t I answer that letter?” In those moments, it is silence that begs our attention. We just have to listen to our hearts to figure out why our words have sunk into the quicksand where our secrets are buried. We often bury them from ourselves, and to what end? My hands are wet from digging in the sand.
I am learning the language of silence, learning it slowly from her. Silence is uncomfortable, both when you find it and when it finds you, but I’ve discovered that there is always something to be said about silence, sometimes it means, “I love you.” Sometimes it means, “I miss you.” Usually, it means, “I’m a fool.” Silence never leaves me fulfilled, I always feel an emptiness and my heart aches for something. I don’t even know what it should be, and I drown that feeling with another cup of coffee. Silence makes me feel foolish. Love makes me feel foolish. I’m learning the language of silence, it’s a lot like the language of love.
I love you,
and you don’t understand.
I love you,
and the truth is
I don’t understand.
I have no idea what love truly is. I suspect my heart died in my chest long ago, and even though I have all these feelings, even though I still laugh, cry, hope, dream, feel passion, get angry and frustrated and break things, I have no idea if that means I love you. I love you, and the universe keeps us apart. I love you, and there is nothing whatsoever about that fact which makes any kind of sense. I love you, and I don’t even know if you truly exist, or if I’m just making up some idea of you in my mind. I love you, and I am scared to death of what might, or might not happen. I love you, and I just wanted you to know.