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yakultstan · 2 months

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our salted tears remind us the human condition is rooted in the oceans, the lakes and the soil

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lost-in-time-marie · 13 days

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God Lives With The Ants

When I was younger, I would lay under a maple tree in the backyard. I’d stare up at the leaves and watch them wither from a bright green into orange and red and fall all around my head. I’d talk with the wind that danced and sang as it rushed through the trees and played with my hair. I’d observe the ants as they went about their business in the dirt next to me. So small, and yet we occupied the same space, but our perspectives couldn’t be more different. Our futures intimately linked and yet I found myself wondering if this crawling little insect could sense my gaze. I wondered what great giant’s ribcage laid beside my whole infinite universe, small enough to be held on the tip of their finger. And suddenly, for the first time, I believed that colossus did gaze at my universe, occupying its same space, but somehow so small and impossibly different, and it would get misty eyed pondering the complexity and beauty of our entangled existences, and it would hope things for all us and then mourn those hopes as they changed and evolved over the years, entirely beyond anyone’s reach at this point.

~K.

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soul-xhoney · 3 months

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1:10

You’re still the one I think of when I have things to tell; and when I wore your sweatshirt yesterday I realized how much I missed your smell. It lingered…

Like all the things I’ve mentally made note of since the day we met, it stained my brain the way we stained your counter with the red wine we drank

Or the way I’d stand to lock your hair after a late afternoon beach run; like the touch of your warm skin that embraces me like the sun

Like the words to the song you wrote, the art drew or the sculpture you made; the look on your face when you showed me

You linger…

#zcmk #an excerpt from a book i'll never write #an excerpt from a story i'll never write #late night thoughts #soilled thoughts #dreams i’ll never tell #thinking out loud #prose poetry #literature #lit #unfinished #dear diary #books #writersblr #writerscorner #spilled writing #wannabe writer #not a writer #idk what this is

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ladywithahandbook · 4 months

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My own bed feels strange, I just can’t fall asleep without you.

- Lady With A Handbook

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echoesfromthiasus · 6 months

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I did it again.

Between jesting about a life together, and imagining how the pieces could fit.

I convinced myself that we could be real.

How do I forgive myself for forgetting that I have only ever been a rest stop,

never a destination.

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blogbatsinthebelfrylove · 20 days

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4/6/24 1:52am

“When?”

Have you ever hit that point in your life that you realize it’s going to get worse before it gets better? That is, IF it ever gets better. That point where the only thing you know anymore is survival and you’re just not sure that you want to anymore? Realized you’re a failure in everything so what’s the point in “seeking attention” by attempting suicide. Because you know that you’ll just fail at that too and have to face the world and all the whispers. Realize that once you try to end it that you’ll be unsuccessful and constantly walk into silent rooms that were just filled with chatter. What happens when you finally hit that point? Are you fooling yourself by thinking it will actually get better? That’s what everyone says. “It gets better. It WILL get better.” I’ve been telling myself that for most of my life and there are fleeting moments when a normal, happy life doesn’t feel so unattainable. More often than not I find myself in a room full of people slipping into a fantasy of not having to face the next day and that days catastrophe that awaits. But then I realize that I’m just not that lucky. You see, IF I were to try again I’d just fail like the last 17 times. Each time with more damage and another piece of my soul lost…. They say “It gets better.” I’d just like to know when….

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feltpoetry · 2 years

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“today i saw you, i didn’t feel the butterflies and i didn’t want to kiss you. i just saw you and you were like every boy in the world, and i swear it was your fault”

- excerpt from a book i’ll never write #9

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abbigailnichole · 1 year

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"How do you move on?" I asked the darkness.

Grief, l've learned, is really just love. It's all the love you want to give, but cannot. Grief is just love with no place to go. Sometimes, the bad things that happen to us are not valuable lessons. Nothing can be extracted from them, there are no positives to some things. It is okay to feel grief for what happened to you, to mourn what you have lost, to know it was not fair. Sometimes, we can only let go of the past by grieving it, by admitting it was not okay, but now that we are dealing with the pain, sometimes you can't move on.

-but we can hope for a better future

#poetry #spilled words #writers on tumblr #spilled ink #six word story #letters ill never send #six word poem #excerpt from a book i’ll never write #narcissistic abuse

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awhisperamongechoes · 1 year

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Even after 23 years, I’ve still never quite learned the difference between putting in effort to continue something and the desperation of holding onto something that wasn’t meant to be.

#spilled ink #spilled thoughts #words #writing #excerpt from a book i'll never write #exerpts from a book i'll never write #quote #excerpt from a story i'll never write #quotes #excerpts from a book i'll never write #spilled words #depressing quotes #excerpt from a book i’ll never write #poetry #sad quotes #excerpts from a story i'll never write #poem #heartbreak #love

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wannawriteyouabook · 4 months

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You called me loyal and all I could think was "I am not a dog."

I'm not a dog

I am not a dog

But then, why do I keep coming back to you like I am

#this is me coping #spilled thoughts #mine #spilled words #excerpt from a letter i'll never send #excerpt from my diary #excerpt from a book i’ll never write #this is literally word vomit #word vomit #excerpts from my journal

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yakultstan · 2 months

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I fear coming face to face with someone I once built a home in my house was burned down

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lost-in-time-marie · 18 days

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All My Unsatisfied Cravings

Most people don’t know what it’s like to want things. Not really. Not deeply. With your whole heart and soul. You’re willing to bleed for it, push for it, give for it.

Oh sure, people know all about coveting. Humans do this the best, perhaps. We covet what we see everyday. This life, this hair, this face, this position, this power, this person.

My body doesn’t know what to do with all its wanting. I hurt and mourn and long for things I’ve never seen or heard or tasted. I’m starving and I’m craving and I’m standing in the middle of the biggest buffet, more than my eyes can hold, and my favorite food is missing. My mouth turns sour at every dish. I can’t tell you what it is, what ingredients it requires, if you bake or sauté it. But I could pick out the smell, in this room full of every delicious mouth watering meal, and I’ll recognize it when it’s finally put on the plate in front of me.

~K.

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soul-xhoney · 2 months

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Writing really doesn’t help…

What would help is getting run over and dying instantly

#zcmk #an excerpt from a book i'll never write #an excerpt from a story i'll never write #an excerpt from a story I’ll never tell

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gracefullyinkful · 5 months

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I used to be so passionate. Words used to come so easily. And in the grief…the despair…words have failed me. Somewhere within myself I am screaming, begging, clawing at the walls to get out and yet, here I am…a faux version of myself. Someone I don’t recognize. Thinking that if I can manifest a difference by thinking about it hard enough, things will change. Sitting on my couch, waiting for someone to take my hand and show me the way out. But when people show up, they’re wide eyed and starved; desperate for relief themselves.

- c-ptsd series: I don’t think anyone else knows the way either

#spilled ink #writing #slam poetry #millennials and love #trauma #excerpt from a book i’ll never write #intimacy

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greenleavesandrainydays · 1 year

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satirical sadness in the instance of sadistic sequence,

he buries the bodies in the yard.

his fresh soil softly sowed by tears — she weeps,

sinister expression behind a facade of a broken heart.

she softens the snake in her hand,

her situations unattainable by a holy soul — he cries.

#pretty poetry #spilled poetry #words #poetry #thoughts #writing #literature #lit #academia #light academia #my poetry #dark academia #aesthetic #excerpts from books i’ll never write #love #love poems #mental illness

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phobicsiren · 2 years

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“I hate what you’ve turned me into.”

Somewhere, someone said that we must accept that love does not always stay and to open the door when it leaves, thanking it for even stopping by.

You deserve no such thanks.

I fell into your life, a mess. You saw my worst and didn’t shy away from it. Instead you were gentle, so gentle with me. I did not sleep much then and you used to stay up with me, lull me to sleep, and then let me rest despite my protests that I didn’t need to, that I was “fine”.

Somewhere in your accidental saving me - from myself, from a heartbreak so severe I did not think I would or could ever recover from - a deep friendship took root. In those first few days, when my heart was a barren field frosted over, you were so gentle, so patient. You checked on me, saw right through my sunny demeanor, could feel my rain clouds and you never shied away.

As days turned to weeks and the frosty field that was my heart began to thaw, you weeded my fields, sowed seeds in what was once rocky terrain. You turned over rocks, each one giving you a little piece of me; with each rock overturned, picked up, given a place, you picked upon my references, bantered back with your own. It did not take long before we developed a language that was uniquely ours, and with it, our friendship sprouted.

Along the way, you surprised me; I did not think that I could ever laugh and mean it again. On too many a quiet night, you proved me wrong; my joyous laughter echoed through the too-quiet house, leaving me breathless, my sides in stitches, and threatening to wake the house up. You always struck strategically: when my laughs subsided to carefully contained giggles, you would crack a well-timed quip that would send me back to breathlessness, as though you were with me, tickling me.

In record time, our friendship blossomed and you became one of my favorite people. Even so, I was not without my defenses. While I worked to mend my patchwork heart, you found holes in my walls, leapt over the rubble and snatched up my bricks and mortar. When I wasn’t looking, you hid them, gave yourself a back door to my heart, and got closer to me than I wanted anyone to be, even you.

You rekindled a fire in my heart’s hearth, settled in, cozied up to me…because I let you. I didn’t have to show you how broken I am, but I did and I believed you accepted me for it. Weeks turned to months, and our friendship blossomed, changed. We slid from just friends, sowing seeds for something that could be more beautiful if we let it. Little did we realize, while we nurtured this new beautiful thing, our friendship began to go awry. Looking back, I cannot pinpoint when our friendship began to wilt, but I know that it wasn’t instantaneous. It was a slow death, drawn out over one thousand well-intended cuts. You wield the scythe, look at me guiltily, but continue to hack and slash like this is the only way. How dare you?

Your betrayal has been two-fold. When I thought you accepted me, you were disarming me of my bricks and mortar, stealing them to fortify your own castle. According to you, nobody can get close to you, know you. You believe yourself a monster, incapable of being loved, undeserving of beautiful things. I like to believe in the twilight hours, under blankets of stars we told secrets to, you let me see who you really are. You aren’t a monster, this I am sure of. I have tried to cure you of your disillusions - a pithy, handwritten note tucked into a carefully chosen book, shared experiences that make me think of you, trinkets from my adventures. You feel undeserving of each, try to convince me so.

I know you aren’t the monster you see yourself as. I want to grab the mirror you’ve held up, forced me to look at and show you the truth, make you see you like I see you. I hate what you’ve done to me, turned me into. I hate that you’ve left me exposed, robbed my castle of its walls while you’ve fortified yours, sequestered yourself away. I hate that every love song reminds me of you, but you act like it’s unrequited. Under the blanket of stars we’ve murmured secrets to, you’ve shown me it’s not. I’ve been Atlas, shouldering this friendship, bleeding out from its innumerable cuts for too long while you shove me away. It is irony that I suffer the same fate I once warned you of, lest you got too close to me. When I warned you, you were thoughtful, said you’d understand; You weren’t supposed to steal my defenses, turn them on me but you did.

I told you what hurt me most and over the last few months, I’ve watched you become each of these things. What started as texts throughout the day and laughter that made my cheeks sting, has ended as one word quips, frustrated sighs, and asking myself if it was worth it. In the moment I believed it was, but hindsight being truesight, you have proved again, and again, and again, that I have been doing all the heavy lifting.

I hate what you have turned me into. You gave me hope, something to hold on to when I was drowning. Where are you now that my meadow has blossomed and I need to harvest the fruits of our labor? Where are you now that I am ready to conquer yours, mine… our demons?

#unrequited feelings #fwb problems #fwb to lovers #fwb #spilled truth #spilled emotions #spilled prose #my words #my writing #my prose #writing 2022 #writing prompt #may 2022 #excerpt from a book i'll never write #excerpts from a story I’ll never tell #romance #just friends #friends to lovers #friends to strangers

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