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Quote by Charlotte Lamb

“Why did you leave me?How could you do that to me?That note you left didn`t explain,didn`t tell me anything,just said you were going and not coming back and not to look for you.Not look for you!How could you think i wouldn`t?Did you really believe I´d let you go like that?You must have known i would go crazy,wondering where you were,what was happening to you...you must have known what you had done to me,vanishing like that." -Domenico Alessandros”

Quote by Charlotte Lamb

Work

Dark Fate

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Author

Charlotte Lamb
Charlotte Lamb

Charlotte Lamb, a British novelist, was born on December 22, 1937, and passed away on October 8, 2000. Known for her profound psychological portrayals and complex emotional entanglements, her works have been highly appreciated by readers. more

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“There are things I can confess only after swallowing a bottle of ink. How i crushed a moth between my palms before it rushed to the fireplace. These hands that are used to killing things midflight. Like my mother tongue. Before I can roll out my rounded R and O. Because women like me are believed to practise witchcraft and blackmagic. We swallow men and spit out their bones. These hands that danced with your ghosts on the bluest 4 AMs. These hands that raised a knife to its throat. How deep was the longing to be nothing more than an empty bed, an empty room. If someone asks you tell them writing was the closest I came to witchcraft. Poetry was the closest I came to being possessed. I wanted to leave behind more than emptiness so I wrote. . They say it takes 7 seconds for the eyes to become accustomed to the darkness. I glide across the dark room like the light was never here. Your body imprint on the mattress lost to the frenzied waltz of sunray and dust. How easy was it to just grab a handful of you before you dissolved. If someone asks tell them loving you was the closest I came to seeing god. . On some nights I open the curtains and you are the moon. I am the darkness surrounding it. Which is to say I don't know how to love without being consumed. If they ask you tell them remembrance was the closest I came to being sick. . Once I met a homeless man who spoke in madness because he had forgotten his mother tongue. How long do you hide yourself from the world before you forget your beginning. Like him - I too am full of silence. My beloved - a handful of you, your body. There are things I could only tell the moths but they no longer visit. I have put off the fireplace. Which is to say they too don't know how to love something that won't kill them. . My phone always autocorrects I love you to I live you and what is love if not living the other person. One summer afternoon our bodies turned into each other's. Your breath played lye strings on my neck. If they ask you tell them that was the closest I came to being alive.”