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"To meet Jeffrey was just like being given a set of paints… I had all this colour in my life again. I just couldn’t help falling in love with him. He was adorable, he was lovely. I read his diary; he read mine. We’d just swap, we’d literally just hand over this very personal stuff, and I’ve never done that with anybody else; I don’t know if he has. So in some ways there was a great deal of intimacy, but then there’d be times when I’d just think, “I’m just not penetrating this Jeff Buckley boy at all”."

— Elizabeth Fraser

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silence? this silence? there were few things to say after it ended. too much cider & too few regrets. just let it die, just forget it. pretend you hadn’t dreamt it. the constant curling, curling. of strands of hair, bodies, of body, away, away. waking, cold & shivering amongst nothing, amongst everything. where are you now? i’d once scream. i don’t think to ask that question now. it’s not numbness. it’s forgiveness, or forgetfulness at best. another life, one other’s life. are you happy? i hope, i hope. are you happy now, as i am? i hope, i hope.

Tags: personal
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