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When the silvery moon
Shines Through the woven boughs,
Bathing meadow and lawn
All in a slumb’rous light,
While the nightengale warbles,
Sad I wander from tree to tree.
Somewhere, high in the leaves,
Softly a pair of doves
coo their love song to me.
Heartsick I turn away,
Turn to shades that are darker,
And there wells but a single tear.
Where O vision of love
That like the dawn of day
Spreads thy light o’er my soul,
When will you come to me?
And there trembles a single tear,
Yet hotter, hotter On my cheek.
You left yesterday and already I can’t stand it. There’s an empty hole by my side and an empty hole in my heart that can’t be filled with anything—anything but you, that is. I wish that I could push thoughts of you out of my head, act normally, talk normally, be normal…but I can’t.
I miss you.
I am Sappho. I am Janis Joplin. I am Charlotte Corday. I am Frida Kahlo. I am the Lady of Shallot, Agatha Heterodyne, and Josephine March. Okay, no. I'm none of those women, yet I wish I were all of them. Like its name says, my tumblr is a little drop of everything.
