everything changed
time stopped and restarted
my heart
beat truly for the first time
and the lightâ it was
glowing golden like
the sun came out
thatâs when it all changed
ironicâ how I pulled you
from the brink of death
when I kissed you, love,
you held your breath
- Cora Finch
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galaxy of stars
a million little bright lights
born of seed and earth
blooming in moonbeams
constellations slowly climb
reaching for the sky
ephemeral bliss
sweet taste of spring and solace
carried with a breeze
- Cora Finch
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let me tell you how it feels to be this soft
itâs like snowflakes whispering through windowpanes. the jaws of summer slackening at the sight of autumn leaves. itâs like skin patted fresh and pink from the shower. like devouring the cotton candy tongue of a lover. itâs pillow lips, and itâs hands tiptoeing under flannel. itâs like daylight kissing a park bench at golden hour. an eyelash on a cheek and the thumb that grants the wish. itâs peony petals. swallowed butterflies. itâs warm ocean ripples ebbing to the pulse of your ankles. itâs also like a breath caught in the throat. a pulling apartâpulpyâlike the segments of a citrus. a knife through room temperature butter. the bend of a rib. a frostbite. a slow burn. itâs like salty fingers dipping into open wounds. the truth is, it hurts when you are this soft. but you bloom as easily as you bruise. you bruise so soft you become unbreakable.
- Cora Finch
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The Early Diary of AnaĂŻs Nin, 1920â1923
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Moth
I rise with the tide and set with the sun.
In the interim, I survive on bitter
crumbs, sour cherries, and the artificial
sweet of past and almost loves.
I tell myself I am not hungry, just bored.
I close my eyes, imagine being satisfied
deep in the crescent core of my belly.
I think I am still soft in places
like the edge of the ocean, the flutter
of a heart-wing, perhaps most
when I am being held closest
to the blue of the flame.
Itâs where I wait for you.
I waitâŠand I wait⊠Patient as the moon.
Sleep comes, and I dream myself full.
- Cora Finch
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just found out that âwish you were hereâ in persian is âjÄy-e shomÄ khÄlÄ«stâ which means âyour place is emptyâ and it felt like being stabbed in the heart 37 times
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Sara Luisa Kirk, from "Begin here,"
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Delia Owens, Where the Crawdads Sing
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â Audrey Hepburn
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asystole
There should be current inside those walls
a spark
a charge
something shockable
Should be light beaming from those windows
a flicker
a gleam
a beacon of hope
Should be a sound apart from silence
a beep, a beat,
a thump, a pump
a rhythm, a flutter
a shutter, a squeeze
There should be a life
a will
a breath
and another
There should be a heart alive with red
but there is only talk
of death
- Cora Finch
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after the rain
trees flex their weather-hardened limbs
wild irises swoon at the sight
the hummingbird makes a meal
of a bleeding heart and mine skips
to the gentle hum of you
- Cora Finch
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âLet everything happen to you: Beauty and terror. Just keep going. No feeling is final.â
â Rainer Maria Rilke, Go to the Limits of Your Longing
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â Franz Kafka, from Letters to Milena (via lumamonchtuna)
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The cosmic reverb of a kiss
can be felt one hundred lightyears
into the future where it is printed
on the wings of a monarch whose flutter
topples a stack of dominoes that
cause a record player to skip and
everyone scrambles for a seat
but we are the last two left on our feet
and we do more than make the best
of an awkward situation we click
a pair of satellite souls suddenly thrust
into each otherâs orbit effortlessly
synchronizing and softly spinning
into a series of small steps
that swiftly amount to a giant leap
deep into the uncharted waters
of a unified verse where all the stars
have aligned and gravity loses
its hold and somehow
we still fall.
- Cora Finch
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Sara Teasdale, from The Collected Poems of Sara Teasdale; "Song,"
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