‘I woke up this morning with great bliss of freedom & joy in my heart…everything has been rapturous ever since – I only feel sad that perhaps you left worried when we waved goodby and kissed so awkwardly – I wish I could have that over to say goodby to you happier& without the worries and doubts I had that dusty dusk when you left…. – I even feel much changed, great clouds rolled away, as I feel when you and I were in rapport, well, our rapport has remained in me, with me, rather than losing it, I’m feeling to everyone, something of the same as between us.’

‘My Own Boy, Your sonnet is quite lovely, and it is a marvel that those red-roseleaf lips of yours should be made no less for the madness of music and song than for the madness of kissing. Your slim gilt soul walks between passion and poetry. I know Hyacinthus, whom Apollo loved so madly, was you in Greek days. Why are you alone in London, and when do you go to Salisbury? Do go there to cool your hands in the grey twilight of Gothic things, and come here whenever you like. It is a lovely place and lacks only you; but go to Salisbury first. Always, with undying love, Yours, Oscar.’

"Her collarbones like wings spread from the base of her throat to the ends of her shoulders. A bird held down by skin."

⠀⠀⢤——— You are the poem that lives inside of me. You are the words dancing in my head. I may fasten the letters and string the words together, But you are what colours them and brings them to life.
- Onur Taskiran