“The moon touched my shoulder
and I longed for a vanished love”
― A Nostalgist's Map of America: Poems
and I longed for a vanished love”
― A Nostalgist's Map of America: Poems
“Give me, you said, on our very first night,
the forest. I rose from the bed and went out,
and when I returned, you listened, enthralled,
to the shadowy story I told.
Give me the river,
you asked the next night, then I’ll love you forever.
I slipped from your arms and was gone,
and when I came back, you listened, at dawn,
to the glittering story I told.
Give me, you said, the gold
from the sun. A third time, I got up and dressed,
and when I came home, you sprawled on my breast,
for the dazzling story I told.
Give me,
the hedgerows, give me the fields,
I slid from the warmth of our sheets,
and when I returned, to kiss you from sleep,
you stirred at the story I told.
give me the silvery cold,
of the moon. I pulled on my boots and my coat,
but when i came back, moonlight on your throat
outshone the story I told
Give me, you howled
on our sixth night together, the wind in the trees.
You turned to the wall as I left,
and when I came home, I saw you were deaf
to the blustering story I told.
Give me the sky, all the space
it can hold. I left you, the last night we loved,
and when I returned, you were gone with the gold,
and the silver, the river, the forest, the fields,
and this is the story I’ve told.
"Give”
― Rapture
the forest. I rose from the bed and went out,
and when I returned, you listened, enthralled,
to the shadowy story I told.
Give me the river,
you asked the next night, then I’ll love you forever.
I slipped from your arms and was gone,
and when I came back, you listened, at dawn,
to the glittering story I told.
Give me, you said, the gold
from the sun. A third time, I got up and dressed,
and when I came home, you sprawled on my breast,
for the dazzling story I told.
Give me,
the hedgerows, give me the fields,
I slid from the warmth of our sheets,
and when I returned, to kiss you from sleep,
you stirred at the story I told.
give me the silvery cold,
of the moon. I pulled on my boots and my coat,
but when i came back, moonlight on your throat
outshone the story I told
Give me, you howled
on our sixth night together, the wind in the trees.
You turned to the wall as I left,
and when I came home, I saw you were deaf
to the blustering story I told.
Give me the sky, all the space
it can hold. I left you, the last night we loved,
and when I returned, you were gone with the gold,
and the silver, the river, the forest, the fields,
and this is the story I’ve told.
"Give”
― Rapture
“She was beautiful, but she was beautiful in the way a forest fire was beautiful: something to be admired from a distance, not up close.”
― Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch
― Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch
“Come to the orchard in Spring.
There is light and wine, and sweethearts
in the pomegranate flowers.
If you do not come, these do not matter.
If you do come, these do not matter.”
―
There is light and wine, and sweethearts
in the pomegranate flowers.
If you do not come, these do not matter.
If you do come, these do not matter.”
―
“Extinguish my eyes, I'll go on seeing you.
Seal my ears, I'll go on hearing you.
And without feet I can make my way to you,
without a mouth I can swear your name.
Break off my arms, I'll take hold of you
with my heart as with a hand.
Stop my heart, and my brain will start to beat.
And if you consume my brain with fire,
I'll feel you burn in every drop of my blood.”
―
Seal my ears, I'll go on hearing you.
And without feet I can make my way to you,
without a mouth I can swear your name.
Break off my arms, I'll take hold of you
with my heart as with a hand.
Stop my heart, and my brain will start to beat.
And if you consume my brain with fire,
I'll feel you burn in every drop of my blood.”
―
Harsh Vardhan’s 2025 Year in Books
Take a look at Harsh Vardhan’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
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