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Tim Huijts

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by Tim Huijts

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I understand. Yes, I remembered. I always do; I always will. And yes, the ache of missing is there, very much, and always will be. You do exist. And so do I. Thank you, too. Still. Always.
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by Tim Huijts

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And words even, words that I knew, and still want to know, as soul-deep. I lost half of me, and I know I did that myself; but more so, it felt that I lost the understanding, the knowing, of this half I lost. And now, here, I see this half of me, but don't know if it really exists.
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by Tim Huijts

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I don't know what it really meant. It's not about blame; I would understand the bits and pieces of it. It just made me question everything I thought I knew: this complete knowing, understanding, this being home and whole, finally, despite anything, no matter how distant, how seemingly alone;
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by Tim Huijts

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The silence of songs for other ears, of the call and response of posts, of a 'you' that wasn't me.
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by Tim Huijts

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Why can't I shake the sense that perhaps words are only skin-deep, tattoos turned to ashes in a shiver; my ghosted eyes still asking if they saw, or just imagined, what my heart was blind to.
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by Tim Huijts

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Every poem I read pretends to be you, mimicking the cadence of your chest, the metre of your breathing, the lick and lilt of your tongue; every poem I write is whispered by your shadow, ink opaquely bleeding as I speak, drawing your outline, enveloping your absence.
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by Tim Huijts

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When I bare my soul you feel seen. Who did we leave but ourselves?
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by Tim Huijts

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You do live through me; how can you not, when I think of you with every first bittersweet sip, with every spine I stroke, with every page I rustle, with every leaf that falls at my feet.
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by Tim Huijts

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"Do you know—the only life I am sure of is the life of the Imagination.”
-A.S. Byatt, Possession
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by Tim Huijts

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Waking, I cry “Oh, is this your buried treasure? The light in the heart.”
-Virginia Woolf, A Haunted House And Other Short Stories
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by Tim Huijts

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"The melancholy river bears us on. When the moon comes through the trailing willow boughs, I see your face, I hear your voice and the bird singing as we pass the osier bed. What are you whispering? Sorrow, sorrow. Joy, joy. Woven together, like reeds in moonlight.”
Virginia Woolf, The String Quartet
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by Tim Huijts

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"I have missed you. I do miss you. I shall miss you. And if you don't believe it, you're a long-eared owl and ass. Lovely phrases?”
-Virginia, Love Letters: Virginia Woolf and Vita Sackville-West
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by Tim Huijts

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by Tim Huijts

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"I am reduced to a thing that wants Virginia. I composed a beautiful letter to you in the sleepless nightmare hours of the night, and it has all gone. I just miss you, in a quite simple desperate human way.”
-Vita, Love Letters: Virginia Woolf and Vita Sackville-West
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by Tim Huijts

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by Tim Huijts

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"Night had come—night that she loved of all times, night in which the reflections in the dark pool of the mind shine more clearly than by day.”
-Virginia Woolf, Orlando
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by Tim Huijts

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"Like a little warm coal in my heart burns your saying that you miss me. I miss you oh so much."
-Vita, Love Letters: Virginia Woolf and Vita Sackville-West
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by Tim Huijts

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"He would see her flash her wings.”
-A.S. Byatt, Possession
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by Tim Huijts

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"Yes, dearest Vita: I do miss you; I think of you: I have a million things, not so much to say, as to sink into you.”
-Virginia, Love Letters: Virginia Woolf and Vita Sackville-West
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by Tim Huijts

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"I cannot let you burn me up, nor can I resist you. No mere human can stand in a fire and not be consumed.”
-A.S. Byatt, Possession
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by Tim Huijts

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"Instead there were little daily miracles, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark; here was one.”
-Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse
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by Tim Huijts

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"You’re the only person I’ve ever met who seems to have the faintest conception of what I mean when I say a thing.”
-Virginia Woolf, The Voyage Out
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by Tim Huijts

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"Did we not—did you not flame, and I catch fire?”
-A.S. Byatt, Possession
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by Tim Huijts

timhuijts.bsky.social
"But for pain words are lacking. There should be cries, cracks, fissures, (...) interference with the sense of time, of space; and sounds very remote and then very close; (...) beneath all of which appears something very important, yet remote, to be just held in solitude.”
-Virginia Woolf, The Waves
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by Tim Huijts

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by Tim Huijts

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"Now begins to rise in me the familiar rhythm; words that have lain dormant now lift, now toss their crests, and fall and rise"
-Virginia Woolf, The Waves
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by Tim Huijts

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"I desired always to stretch the night and fill it fuller and fuller with dreams.”
-Virginia Woolf, The Waves
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by Tim Huijts

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"Fear no more, says the heart"
-Virginia Woolf, Mrs. Dalloway

"What if I told you I’m incapable of tolerating my own heart?”
-Virginia Woolf, Night and Day
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by Tim Huijts

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"He smiled the most exquisite smile, veiled by memory, tinged by dreams.”
-Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse
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