is it warm were you are? Do you feel yourself thawing on my behalf letting your edges burn in the hopes you might ignite me? that from the other side of the world your warm breath might breathe some life into my bones? Is it warm where you are? Do the cold shadows in the scorched streets remind you of me?
Anonymous asked: How would you put it? As an island separate from all other land, refusing to be locked by anything other than open ocean? A ship that won't dock, or an iceberg. I would do anything, to congregate with you to that land deep, deep south where we'll float, completely unharmed and unexpected. Powerful enough to sink Titans, patient enough to slowly melt our days away until the ozone...
I would like to give you the silver branch, the small white flower, the one...– Margaret Atwood, from “Variation on the Word Sleep” (via funeral)
“I should have thought in a dream you would have brought some lovely, perilous...– H.D., “At Baia”