#excerpts from my journal | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ivynightshade · 1 year

Text

fatima aamer bilal, from all hunger is, is love.

[text id: oh, how i would pray to get sick so my mother would take care of me.]

2K notes · View notes

thesewordsaremymusings · 6 months

Text

“I want to take my heart off my sleeve, it has grown too heavy.”

-m.n.

944 notes · View notes

fatimaamerbilal · 2 years

Text

fatima aamer bilal, from even flesh eaters don’t want me.

[text id: i want to embrace you so closely that our bodies would become one.]

4K notes · View notes

heartstringsandbrokenthings · 11 months

Text

i’m afraid of a lot of things, but mostly, most sincerely, i am afraid of being unravelled by you, and you finding nothing you want in here

159 notes · View notes

lost-in-time-marie · 18 days

Text

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.

20 notes · View notes

literatureinfurs · 2 months

Text

pages of the past, i think it is time for a new journal.

— literature in furs, jessie (literatureinfurs) • March 2024.

#literatureinfurs #spilled thoughts #personal #writer #spilled ink #booklover #thoughts #excerpts from my journal #bookworm #poet #journaling #journal inspo #journal #journal inspiration #a place to rest my head #dark academic aesthetic #light academia #golden #boho

22 notes · View notes

darichonne · 1 month

Text

insta: @darichonne

21 notes · View notes

ivangoghhh · 7 months

Text

show me a love that lasts

the realest form—

affection and desire lasts,

through lenghty talks,

and warm cups of coffee

through eye contacts,

and unflinching laughter.

show me love that is true,

a place of conformity,

a safe zone—

where we can be tired upon the antics of the world,

yet we still let ourselves learn something new from each other.

find me a love, that will last so long,

it feels endless— fulfilled.

#prose #writers of tumblr #writers on tumblr #my writing #poetry #excerpts from my journal #poetic prose #spilled poetry #spilled thoughts #writingcommunity

35 notes · View notes

inked-soull · 2 months

Text

//Soft Dreams//

Kiss my lips

Bite my nape like you're hungry

Leave your mark

In the darkness

Whisper all that you wish to

Do to ravage me

I've been enchained

Tied up in throes of passion

Set my yearnings free

Melt me awake from

My half awakened soft dreams

And I inhale stars

#inkedsoull #inked soull #excerpts from my life #my thoughts #poetry #poets on tumblr #excerpts from my writing #my poetry #excerpts from my journal #excerpt from my diary #excerpts from a poem #poetic #poem #my poems #poem community #original poetry #poetry community #poetry corner

15 notes · View notes

creatinganewwlife · 15 days

Text

And suddenly it’s 12:33 am and i realise how i don’t have any favourites. I never really thought about what i would like, what i would want, a color that makes me feel warmth, or a dish that comforts me, a place where i could run to, or a show i could watch over and over.

Why? You ask. I guess i never really thought i could have a favourite, or maybe even allowed to have a favourite, as if it was something out of reach, that came with privilege, and me? I had none. In all my life, i’ve always made people comfortable, made them priority. So much so i never really asked myself what is it that i like. So much so that whenever i would go out with friends and it came down to ordering the food, i’d remember their order by heart, like an oath, i’d keep a track of everyone’s favourite like a hawk. Or sometimes just say, “you guys should order whatever you want to eat, i am okay with anything.” At that moment, i would not think what i wanted to eat. I always wanted everyone to be happy around me. I spent so much time trying to make everyone happy that i started to cut my flesh and feeding it to them, if that meant that satiated their hunger. Now don’t get me wrong, i would still do it, all over again. I would literally burn myself off if it meant it would make them smile.

But then, i guess i just want to know what is my favourite? What do i like? What does make me happy? With so much time on this earth, isn’t it sad how i don’t have a favourite color? Even so i never thought about it until recently. I wonder why? I guess i felt having favourites puts a burden on people. If i don’t have a favourite, they don’t have to think what color sweater should they be getting me for my birthday gift. Although i haven’t received many in my lifetime but the ones i have, i cherish.

And so i figured if i kept diluting myself, it would be easier.

This life is not mine. This life that i’ve lived has been for my loved ones and I don’t regret it.

I just want to know what my favourite color is.

12:51am // 12th of April, 2024

#excerpts from a book i'll never write #writeblr #favorite #desiblr #desi tumblr #desi #dark academia #excerpts from my journal #desi tag #desi aesthetic #desi writers

15 notes · View notes

ladywithahandbook · 2 years

Text

I want to write down everything that’s going on between us, but I’m never able to describe the spark. There’s no words I can use to talk about the passion, the look in your eyes and everything I feel - the lust, the want, the need. There’s no words that could come even close to describing what is happening to my body as your hands grab me greedily and your mouth devour mine. To say what is on my mind while I moan helplessly, left to your skilful hands. When my eyes roll and my head falls back, reaching the climax and you don’t let go just yet, taking me for another round. When my nails dig in your back as you bury yourself in me, again and again. You groan and rest your forehead on mine, we’re both sweaty, looking in each other’s eyes and there’s only a Nicholas Sparks’ quote left on my mind: “Come bother me baby. Bother me for the rest of my life.”

- Lady With A Handbook

250 notes · View notes

ivynightshade · 8 months

Text

fatima aamer bilal, from even flesh eaters don’t want me.

[text id: but darling, i destroy everything i love. / like my favourite cup that i held a little too tightly because i was afraid that it would fall and break into pieces. / it shattered in my hands.]

520 notes · View notes

thesewordsaremymusings · 5 months

Text

“The curse of being a writer is that if I showed you my words, I know you would love me too. But I can’t give them away, they are the most sacred things, I have.”

-m.n. “I strung these (words) for you with gold.”

24 notes · View notes

fatimaamerbilal · 1 year

Text

fatima aamer bilal, from if only love could save us.

[text id: december cold, so lovingly, froze my blood and burned my skin shut. / (every wound can rest til the arrival of summer)]

1K notes · View notes

heartstringsandbrokenthings · 2 years

Text

I’ll probably always wish it was him in the end. But the thing is, he never really saw losing me as the end of the world, so maybe he was never something for me to wish for at all.

— S

701 notes · View notes

lost-in-time-marie · 1 month

Text

The Well Is Dry Today, Come Back Another Time

Writing is like some permanent faucet tapped into my soul. It has to come out, if that knob goes untouched, it will burst onwards anyway, spurting uncontrollably and making a mess of me. If you ignore it, don’t attend to it immediately, the swells of water will drown you. And I find, when I leave that faucet running too long, wasting it away on chores and responsibilities, too many dishes and washing all the clothes by hand, the well runs dry. I find myself here, spinning that fixture silly, trying to trigger some recognition, some familiarity, like I’ve lived in this house 26 years and poured over this tap every day. But I’m standing over the sink at a strangers house, and I don’t get so much as a trickle, not even a drop. The pipes rattle and hiss inside the walls and, today, I have no charms, and nothing comes out with all my coaxing.

~K.

18 notes · View notes