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” —
Oscar Wilde, to Lord Alfred Douglas (via gaywizardsincardigans)
Sorry — don’t use IM Messenger.
Who are you, exactly?
>gets a text from a FWD number asking if you’d like to come over
>Boy had sent you a text from such a number earlier that day
>think Boy wants to see you
>No, it’s your mother.
Sorry dear. But I did want to see you.