Sunday, June 19, 2011

Everett is a doleful figure. His hair is wild, and dirty like a mop resting on the top of his head, holding stories and secrets of all the places he's been.
His green irises don't say much, and have never before met anyone’s. They are weary and scan over the lost pages of Wuthering Heights which he’s persuaded me to read so many times over, yet I haven’t found the time. He says he's from somewhere in the Southwest, and never imagined snow to be so cold.
I wish I knew what the sun was like, I tell him. We are tired of the fireplace and cocoa in paper cups, but we don't complain.
And maybe if this Everett hadn't said he didn't like me much, I think I might have actually been in love with him.


  1. This really is beautiful.
    Dove, you are incredible.


  2. like those above me have said, this is beautifully written. wonderful - xo

  3. Oh my heavens your blog is so beautiful. Magical. I'm following :)
    I'd love if you visited mine, or followed if you like. x


  5. i echo everyone here.
    this is beautiful. :)

  6. i wish i was the author of this fantastic blog. amazing stuff. x

  7. Your words are magical; they send me to quiet forests to play with the nymphs.
    Lovely. <3

  8. your words are such real things. x

  9. oh, you write so beautifully. incredible, this is. breath-taking. x

  10. Reading this again has the same effect on me: intrigued, enthralled, and in awe. Never stop writing, dear.
    You are too kind to me! I don't know if I deserve all of your lovely words, but thank you :)
    xxx x

  11. This is heartbreaking my love.
    Devastatingly beautiful.
    You have made my soul sigh.

  12. My Valmai, you are beautiful.
    I just wanted to say hi.
    How are you, love?

  13. i just step inside your blog and my first thought was: this is so beautiful!
    but i see most of the people already said that. but it can't hurt to heart it one more time, right? i can't come up with something else.

    hope all is well with you