Why is it, Nastenka,why is it at such moments one holds one's breath? Why, by what sorcery, through what incomprehensible caprice, is the pulse quickened, does a tear start from the dreamer's eye, while his pale moist suffused with an inexpressible sense of consolation? Why is it that whole sleepless nights pass like a flash in inexhaustible gladness and happiness, and when the dawn gleams rosy at the window and daybreak floods the gloomy room with uncertain, fantastic light, as in Petersburg, our dreamer, worn out and exhausted, flings himself on his bed and drops asleep with thrills of delight in his morbidly overwrought spirit, and with a weary sweet ache in his heart?
Saga EgmontKitabı okudu
A lone tear slides down my cheek because I know that this type of obsessive and intense connection is the only thing he has to offer.
He’ll fuck me, catch me before I fall, and kiss my forehead, but he’ll never love me.
And I will always want him to.
I saw you dancing in a crowded room
You look so happy when I'm not with you
But then you saw me, caught you by surprise
A single tear drop falling from your eyes
I don't know why,
I run away
I make you cry when,
I run away
I haven’t shed a single tear.
I feel numb.
I feel shocked.
I feel betrayed.
Was anything real to her? Was it all a lie? All pretend?
I can’t tear my eyes from her.
I can’t stray my thoughts from her.
I can’t pry my body from her.
The Japanese Wife
O lord, he said, Japanese women,
real women, they have not forgotten, bowing and smiling
closing the wounds men have made;
but American women will kill you like they tear a lampshade,
American women care less than a dime, they've gotten derailed,
they're too nervous to make good: scowling, belly-aching, disillusioned, overwrought
C33*
He has woven rose-vines
About the empty heart of night,
And vented his long mellowed wines
Of dreaming on the desert white
With searing sophistry
And he tented with far thruths he would form
The transient bosoms from the thorny tree.
O Materna! to enrich thy gold head
And wavering shoulders with a new light shed
From penitence, must needs bring pain,
And with it song of minor, broken strain
But you who hear the lamp whisper thru night
Can trace paths tear-wet, and forget all
by 
Hart Crane
"And she thinks she can do me better and erase you from my memory," I said.
"I don't care."
Her expression was flat, and her voice was mechanical.
I nodded, ignoring the needles in my throat. "Good," I said, feeling her breath on my mouth. "Because when you hear us tonight, I want you to know it's because I don't care, either. There's nothing of you for her to erase."
[•••] “I just want you to also know..." I lowered my voice to a whisper, "That's what red feels like. Anger and fury and heat and need so strong you're a fucking animal, Winter. It's primal."
A tear spilled out of the corner of her eyes, and I could feel her fucking heart pounding in her chest.
I released her, pushing her away and backing up toward my bedroom.
"I'll fuck her and make you come, too."
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