12 books
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6 voters
“Oh, Perseus—your glory shall wither and fall,
In the shadow of serpents, you’ll hear my call.
Your victory is hollow, your name is a lie—
For I am the storm, and I shall never die.”
― Gothic Poems to Love & Liberty: A Collection of Poems on Myths & Broken Hearts
In the shadow of serpents, you’ll hear my call.
Your victory is hollow, your name is a lie—
For I am the storm, and I shall never die.”
― Gothic Poems to Love & Liberty: A Collection of Poems on Myths & Broken Hearts
“Yes,” she said. “Truth is what survives verification. Different tongues may call it different names — honesty, fidelity, justice, love — but when you strip language away, what you have left is material behavior. Action. Roots. The rest is perfume and poetry.”
―
―
“It should weigh nothing.
Just wood and air,
a shape meant for sitting,
a space meant for filling.
But somehow, it carries more than I do.
This chair—
your chair—
still leans slightly to the left,
still remembers the way you sat,
one leg tucked under,
hands resting lightly on the arms,
as if you were always about to leave
but never quite did.”
― Saltwater & Smoke: Poems of Almosts, Goodbyes, and What We Leave Behind
Just wood and air,
a shape meant for sitting,
a space meant for filling.
But somehow, it carries more than I do.
This chair—
your chair—
still leans slightly to the left,
still remembers the way you sat,
one leg tucked under,
hands resting lightly on the arms,
as if you were always about to leave
but never quite did.”
― Saltwater & Smoke: Poems of Almosts, Goodbyes, and What We Leave Behind
“I wake reaching for you,
fingers curling around nothing,
closing on air thick with absence.
You are not here, but my body does not believe it.
It still flinches at the shape of you,
at the memory of weight no longer there.
Somewhere beneath my skin,
you still exist.”
― Saltwater & Smoke: Poems of Almosts, Goodbyes, and What We Leave Behind
fingers curling around nothing,
closing on air thick with absence.
You are not here, but my body does not believe it.
It still flinches at the shape of you,
at the memory of weight no longer there.
Somewhere beneath my skin,
you still exist.”
― Saltwater & Smoke: Poems of Almosts, Goodbyes, and What We Leave Behind
Alice’s 2025 Year in Books
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