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I said perhaps Patagonia, and pictured

a peninsula, wide enough
for a couple of ladderback chairs
to wobble on at high tide. I thought

of us in breathless cold, facing
a horizon round as a coin, looped
in a cat’s cradle strung by gulls
from sea to sun. I planned to wait

till the waves had bored themselves
to sleep, till the last clinging barnacles,
growing worried in the hush, had
paddled off in tiny coracles, till

those restless birds, your actor’s hands,
had dropped slack into your lap,
until you’d turned, at last, to me.

When I spoke of Patagonia, I meant

skies all empty aching blue. I meant
years. I meant all of them with you.

Patagonia - Kate Clanchy

thank you.

Chained to the wall of our room.
Yeah you chained me like a dog in our room.
I thought that's how it was
I thought that we were fine.
Then the day was night.
You were high, you were high when I was doomed
and dyin' for... with no life, with no light.

Tied to my bed.
I was younger then,
I had nothing to spend but time on you.
But it made me love, it made me love, it made me love more.
It made me love, it made me love, it made me love more.

Do what you said.
The words she said left out.
Over into the sky where I'll soon fly.
And she took the time to believe in,
to believe in what she said.
She made me love, she made me love, she made me love more.
She made me love, she made me love, she made me love more.

- Love More, Sharon Van Etten.

how i'm feeling these days.

“Say something. You’re my only friend here, it’ll be a memento. I don’t like pictures.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Whatever. Anything from the heart, even something sad. I’ll take it to the end of the world.”

He stared after him. 

His face was silent, closed, yet sickly fascinating; it thus drew in the confidences of Turmoil and Pain, themselves the underlings of Loneliness, an Overlord so pervasive, its tendrils marauded across his features, seeking to fester, germinate and eventually, vanquish that fragile mien.

wrote this a year or two ago, and to be honest, i wrote with unabashed and utter self-centredness. i find it heavily overwrought now but it doesn't matter, because i've found him - the man with the silent, closed, sickly fascinating face. i want him.

Tony Leung in Happy Together, 1997.