1994 -   
An old soul dwelling on the edge of the present and the past. Creative melancholic, idealist, lonely romantic.

Tumblr: http://aparadiseofstrangers.tumblr.com/
All works copyrighted S.H. (C) 2014, unless otherwise stated.
An old soul dwelling on the edge of the present and the past. Creative melancholic, idealist, lonely romantic.

Tumblr: http://aparadiseofstrangers.tumblr.com/
All works copyrighted S.H. (C) 2014, unless otherwise stated.
Elaenor Aisling
Elaenor Aisling
2 days ago

I am tired of saying goodbye.
Even when it's for the best.
You will always deserve better than me.
I mean that.
Fondest goodbye, darling,
painful though it is.
My heart never goes unbruised in these things--
but I pray yours does.

#sigh  
  Reposted by Elaenor Aisling  ·  3 days ago
Emily Dickinson

599

There is a pain—so utter—
It swallows substance up—
Then covers the Abyss with Trance—
So Memory can step
Around—across—upon it—
As one within a Swoon—
Goes safely—where an open eye—
Would drop Him—Bone by Bone.

  Reposted by Elaenor Aisling  ·  5 days ago
Pablo Neruda

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine

Elaenor Aisling
Elaenor Aisling
5 days ago

My eyes feel heavy enough
to fall shut
and never open,
eyelids clanging like a tin box lid
with cheap hinges.

My hands feel heavy enough
to fall down
to permanent attention
and never rise,
frozen like the tin soldier
who was lost in the ashes.

My feet feel heavy enough
to fall once more
and never lift again,
bolted, like a tin sign
to a rotting telephone pole.

A house burned on a road
I can't remember the name of.
Cauterized remains languishing in summer sun,
sharp, angular, like black pick-up-sticks
dropped from the devil's hand.
The once white brick chimney stood,
like a charred sentinel,
keeping watch
over the dying spirit
of an unknown life.
The hollow ache
of a familiar thing gone.

#fire   #burn   #house  

The definition of "Bleeding Heart"
is "dangerously softhearted."
I recoil, then nod.
It is dangerous to care so much.
My heart will crush itself
under the burdens it takes on--
Fold like tinfoil, till it has turned into nothing
but a hard silver ball,
I cast into the kitchen garbage.

I’ve tangled myself
around an ideal,
again.
Damn I, the idealist.
Someone pass me the scissors.

 
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