“No single word in English renders all the shades of toska. At its deepest and most painful, it is a sensation of great spiritual anguish, often without any specific cause. At less morbid levels it is a dull ache of the soul, a longing with nothing to long for, a sick pining, a vague restlessness, …
Dearest, this is a poem in breaks like our kisses on the edge- we both are at home, homeless- we both are in love, loveless. Our hearts are as dark as the creases of the bedsheet at 3:30 a.m. and we wonder why we shone at 5:00 a.m.- the curtains were drawn closest. Dearest, we …