Vintage Love - Tumblr Posts
love love love ♡
Your Sinatra is sitting right where you left it, beside my Beethoven.
I keep the blue butterfly you got me from Costa Rica on my keys. The sea shells on my bookshelf.
I still go to our coffee shop.
I add songs to our playlist.
I've never been so grateful to have experienced someone in the capacity we experienced each other. To be loved. To be heard. To be understood. To be protected.
I wish I could have saved you.
There was before you, there was during you, but there will be no singular soul to amount to after you.
You are my purple.
Vintage Love
Ava Gardner and Frank Sinatra
“We became lovers forever, eternally. Big words, I know, but I truly felt that no matter what happened we would always be in love.”
— Ava Gardner
"You cannot love her," they whisper. "For it is a sin."
I only smile at their words knowing that they have not knelt at her alter nor tasted the divinity staining her lips.They have not heard her giggles murmured between every kiss.
"So be it then," I say.
"I will walk into hell gladly knowing I've held heaven in my hands."
Lyra Wren
she dwelled in my heart, and became my rest
she resembles my soul, I call her 'home'
Woman never emerges from a man's ribs, not ever,
it's he who emerges from her womb.
Nizar Qabbani
बातों से ये ज़ख्म-ए-जिगर कैसे सिल जाए
चाहे मेरी जान जाए चाहे मेरा दिल जाए
How can this wound of the heart be stitched with just words ?
Even if I have to lose my life, even if I have to lose my heart.
-Heera Panna(1973)
remembering the days when she used to peak through the window glasses for a glance of him. Waiting for hours and hours with eyes wide open, just to take a look of that loving face of him. As after certain time, she get to know his Park going time. She just waits at the park for him. Neither did she talked or none a gesture to tell him that she likes him. But those romantic eyes tells him that she's in love. Day after day their conversation increased and so did their immense love for each other. Every evening at the corner of the park where there is huge bushes present to have some privacy to meet. She dressed up in her long brown gown and he in his black and brown coat meets each other. They realized this relationship should be named.
The man proposed her. She with her rosy cheeks nodded for a yes. All her childhood weeding dreams got real. Marrying with her dream man in real. They celebrated their marriage in the states with Kings and Queens as a guest. Afterall she was proud that she was marrying a soldier. Who would fought for the nation one day. But the little did she know that her first love was never meant all the promises. As the war broke down, the distance between those two elevates. During the day she waits for him to came back all loving and young as she saw him at first. All nights she use to cry under those soft velvety blanket knowing the war could take his man forever. Writing long love notes, pressing kisses and flowers were being the only attachment they had. Looking at the mail box with that gloomy face with a enlivened heart. Those love letters were so precious, she caresses the old torn page like it had his lovers soul. Her heart instantly chooses to be bright and hopeful.
With the calmness and tranquility she drifted into sleep still in the fear of loosing him. But her butterflies world broke apart when the love letters changes to martyred note. Knowing her love of her life now never existed. That he broke the promise to die and live together. Sorrowness that only twenty three years of her age, she already lost the most salient person of her life. Yet, with immense pride in her heart she cried off.
Myth
With the fall of dusk,
I remembered you.
I still kept your unironed shirt,
Which I wore after our first love making.
It still has your fragrance,
And it still gives me butterflies.
I missed your arms around me,
That held me like I was the last person.
With the fall of night,
I missed making love with you.
I never knew when I stopped using my side pillow,
As you were there to drift me to sleep .
Your thick peach lips made for me,
As you ate me,I deliberately used to bite your delicious lower lip.
You loved it,
Didn't you?
You are missing it,
Aren't you?
But with the fall of dawn,
I realized all your promises for the platonic love,
were a lie to me.
You loved me or my body,
That was never mine.
I fell for your looks,
You fell for my beauty.
Those days were immensely beautiful to being in love,
Yet you made me realize platonic love is a myth.
It's always been me tiptoeing to kiss you and not you bend down to kiss me.
"What a joy it is to dance with her. Like holding springtime in your arms. Like holding a branch of lilac or a kitten." — Andrei Bolkonsky, War and Peace (1956).
The feminine urge to make coffee stained paper, write a love letter and seal it with red kisses >>>
oh to be young, stupid, and in love
gossipstyle
𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒎𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒇𝒕𝒍𝒚 ✧