AnaSylvia C

“You did not let me keep my name, so I will strip you of yours. In this world you are what I say you are, and I say you are a ghost, a long night's fever dream that I have finally woken up from. I say you are the smoke-wisp memory of a flame, thawing ice suffering under an early spring sun, a chalk ledger of depts being wiped clean. I say you do not have a name.”
― S.T. Gibson, A Dowry of Blood

“This is my last love letter to you, though some would call it a confession. I suppose both are a sort of gentle violence, putting down in ink what scorches the air when spoken aloud.”
― S.T. Gibson, A Dowry of Blood

“I was tired of carrying around the weight of a love like worship, of sickly-warm rush of idolatry coloring my whole world.”
― S.T. Gibson, A Dowry of Blood

“It filled me with a terrible pity and guilt, so perfunctory it was as if I'd been made for it, a machine for dispensing grief.”
― Ava Reid, Juniper & Thorn