I spent a lifetime building shrine to things that can’t love me back. (music, poetry, you)
BLAKE AUDENI spent a lifetime building shrine to things that can’t love me back. (music, poetry, you)
BLAKE AUDENThere’s a weight to it, this missing you.
BLAKE AUDENWhat a fragile, dying thing love turned out to be.
BLAKE AUDENI knew I loved you before I understood what that meant.
BLAKE AUDENYou are more than the things that have hurt you.
BLAKE AUDENI am a child of autumn: At home amongst things that only know of falling.
BLAKE AUDENThese days my bones are shifting, trembled things. I am more earthquake than anything.
BLAKE AUDENI swear my bones can feel it whenever you speak my name.
BLAKE AUDENMaybe the universe breaks people in different ways so they fit when they are together.
BLAKE AUDENI can’t imagine a universe where she is anything other than a masterpiece.
BLAKE AUDENIt was always you who felt like water when my whole body was a flame.
BLAKE AUDENI don’t know if you are the water or light. Only that you can flood a room.
BLAKE AUDENMaybe letting go isn’t all that different to loving you.
BLAKE AUDENI don’t know how else to say it. I will love you for the rest of my life.
BLAKE AUDENMy body has always been a stranger. And it aches in a language I don’t understand.
BLAKE AUDENCan someone tell the birds she’s gone. They’re still singing for her and it’s breaking what’s left of my heart.
BLAKE AUDEN