Paul Barbera
“What do you know of my heart? What do you know of anything but your own suffering?”
𝘉𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳, I told myself. 𝘋𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮. 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘱 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘍𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮.
Icy mirrors, fiery roses, ambiguous grace. December arrives, bleeding and cruel.
“What do you know of my heart? What do you know of anything but your own suffering?”
“Please don’t think less of me if you don’t always see the best of me.”
“So if you love me, love me everywhere,”
— H.D., from Collected Poems 1912-1944; “Sigil”
“Your eyes half-thrush Half-angel and your drowsy Lips where float flowers of kiss.”
— E.E Cummings, “In the rain”
“Beautiful, you said. You said I was beautiful, and when you said it, I was.”
— Sandra Cisneros, from Woman at Hollering Creek: Stories; “Never Marry a Mexican,”
“I am all feelings. My emotions are wearing my body thin.”
— Edna St. Vincent Millay, from a diary entry featured in “What Lips My Lips Have Kissed; The Loves and Love Poems of Edna St. Vincent Millay,”
“I believe there is scarcely a corner in me that is safe from you.”
— Henrik Ibsen, from The Complete Plays & Works; “The Master Builder,”
