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heartofmuse14 hours ago
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Sometimes I miss you so endlessly, I smile. Yes, I smile because the missing is just a reflection of the endless in me, the endless love that for you in my heart I hold. Yes, even missing you is a joy, even missing you makes me smile because I know what a blessing it is to have you.
e.v.e
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sharkygiovanna2a day ago
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what use is there
*in answer to @scatteredthoughts2 poem below "sadness in my words"
what use is there to cling to thoughts
of what is now the past
forget the many fights you fought
about what couldnot last
it once was good, you had your chance
but it came to an end
what seemed to you ensured romance
was not, my dearest friend
that is what future's meant to be
a new bouquet of dreams
open your eyes and learn to see
new options coz it seems
that only then you'll make come true
a dream you thought had died
something which was meant for you
to keep it by your side
*
@ sharkygiovanna 2馃椏馃椏2021
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sedehavena day ago
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Darklings
Leave the porchlight off--
we have never needed it
to make our way. Nor
have we needed the
fickle moon.
Beloved, we are born
of the night. You at the
moment when the evening
stretches her cool skin
over the fevered flesh
of the Earth. And me?
I came silent in the darkest
hour of the shortest
night. Umbral and abyssal,
chasms unlit by stars. Born
of the void, we need
no stars, no moon, no light
(at all)
to find ourselves in the
velvet embrace of our
native night. We are
what casts no shadow
(for we are too dark
to have shadows)
and in the dew-kissed night,
we dance, my love.
We dance.
-- S. E. De Haven
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prasannawrites2 days ago
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the darkling sky 鈥 born in the crevices of November, have matured, already perfecting their stumbling steps into practiced ballet. there is nothing left to hone; it鈥檚 daggered teeth bite into me for almost sixteen hours, i have no more blood left to bleed. i struggle for warmth now, it comes and goes, waning faster than the receding tides.
i pour myself a cup of coffee, watching the cream entangle itself in the coffee like how i get caught up in your words. i find myself envious as I forget to drink the coffee, wishing if only I could forget myself like that too. i pick the cup up, spilling it onto the table, it quickly puddles into the same shape of the bruise that you left on my skin inadvertently.
what does it mean?
i fold a dish cloth in half, and wipe the spill up, wringing it in the sink, all the while wondering: where are you to wring all my worries? is November treating you well? i know the ocean looks good on you, but have you been keeping warm? who's wringing your worries? have you eaten lately?
Prompt from @writeblrcafe BLACK COFFEE:
A ghost tries to communicate to you through coffee stains. A blotch here, and another one soon follows. What do you do? Do you decide to entertain the ghost? Or do you ignore the ghost?
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persephoneshellhounds2 days ago
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i am bone-tired and befogged with melancholia; i cannot wait to fall and bounce cheerlessly in a field of forlorn, arenaria flowers, all over the sunless forest floor. leave me be 鈥 a strange girl in a sleepy, run-down town. leave me be 鈥 a hopeless case in my own quiet apocalypse.
鈥 fray narte
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pocketfullofpoesiesa day ago
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this
and him
are old-school
and i know
all about old-school
because
that's what i watched
my parents do
for twenty-odd years
growing up
and
all i need
is to slip-into
my old-school shoes,
to get through this
as seamlessly
as they did;
twenty-years goes fast,
as you already know -
from one-and-two,
little-to-grown,
in both the flashing
blink-of-an-eye
and also
a searingly painful
dragging-out
of never-ending-time...
so how will you-do
old-school?
are you prepared
to step back
in time
and let him lead,
as you were partially
taught-to-do
or will you step-up
and fight,
like the earliest
of millennials in you,
for equality
and truth,
of love shared between,
not one, but two
?
~@pocketfullofpoesies
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pelicandensity2 days ago
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A Conduit of Remembrance
I wear a ring
on my left
index finger
don鈥檛 care
about the
social
significance
haven鈥檛 even
bothered
to look it up
on Google
for me it
holds
my own
special
meaning
I wear it
to remember
my father
and my son
both of whom
are gone
just memories
voices
in my head
replaying
the wisdom
of their words
fate puts me
in a unique
position
holding on
to everything
they
taught me
about life
holding on to
the power
of their love
all of it
channeled
into this
thin piece of
silver
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disruptivebychoice2 days ago
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Stop.
I hate how the word stop
Reminds me that you didn鈥檛
I hate how flashbacks
take me back
To the beginning
I hate how the word stop
Didn鈥檛 mean a thing
Now I鈥檓 left here wishing
I felt absolutely nothing
Instead,
I find memories block
Where all I can say is stop
With no meaning
Just pieces of me lost
Please.
Just stop.
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delightsofmysoula day ago
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Dead Sea
The transition from love to scant disregard is a difficulty journey To embrace and accept another wholeheartedly To listen without judgement Smile fondly at their foibles To feel a warmth spread throughout every part of your being Shared secrets Precious memories To be replaced with a void A vacuum Where nothing can live Some would say that you cannot think about the moment you actually pass from this earth I do not need to summon it to my mind For I am experiencing it in my body Each day I place one foot in front of the other Undertake my daily activities And yes On occasion laugh uproariously Yet I am dead inside Initially it was though a whirlpool swirled inside of me Travelling at such a velocity That every memory Every word flitted across my mind momentarily I have never seen the Dead Sea I do not need to A flat Heavy space Where I cannot drown Cannot end this infernal suffering Rather I float on the salty bed of my own tears of loss and regret.
Delightsofmysoul 2 December 2021
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ellisnightingalea year ago
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鈥淣ovembers are for softest sleep when skies are dark and grey. They do not mind the time you keep when night looks much like day. They do not mind the rain that falls so warmly down your cheek. 鈥楻est easy now鈥 is what they鈥檇 say if months knew how to speak.鈥
鈥 Ellis Nightingale
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heartofmuse2 days ago
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I sow dreams in the moonbeams that touch you. I leave you a song written in the stars and in the clouds I hang poetry to soothe you day and night. I cradle you with my wings, sprinkle rose petals under your feet and perfume your hands with myrrh. I crown you with the beauty of heaven and I kiss you with the freedom of the wind. I give you the eternal lull of the sea of 鈥嬧媘y heart and the vinalia of the garden of my soul.聽
e.v.e.
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creatingnikki5 months ago
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Yeah it's perfectly okay to cut people off if they drain your energy but remember that people are not plants. And you are not gardening. Okay, bad analogy but here me out. People are people. Not trash that you take them out because it's stinking and you're sick of it. Sure, there are very trashy people. But ask yourself this: Am I cutting this person out of my life because they suck or because they did this thing to piss me off and I don't have the energy or courage to confront them about it? I say this time and again. This doesn't apply for abusive people. Ghost them. Run for your life and sanity. But with everyone else? That person who's been your friend for 10 years or that boy you went out with for 2 dates, respect them a little more. Have a conversation. Say a goodbye. Don't just label every person who doesn't agree with everything you say and do and doesn't vibe with you all the time as "toxic" and write them off. It's very difficult to understand each other and we're often never on the same page as others. If we don't try, if we don't even encourage a discussion, how are we going to survive as a society? How are we going to remain emotionally intelligent animals? Do we really want to back track evolution? Can we really not just give a person a chance? Or are we so woke that we are going to post about boundaries and mental well being and compassion on our Instagram stories every week but forget that, rather willfully ignore that, people are not to be discarded at the first sign of something unpleasant or inconvenient.
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sedehaven2 days ago
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That Which You Cannot Hold
Waiting by stagnant water,
watching for the twitch of an ear,
the rise of branch-like horns
over the tall grass. Breeze is
hot as a lover鈥檚 whisper.
Hands steady. Duty calls.
We鈥檝e spent these years
(these precious years)
assassinating antelopes.
They run like the tears of God.
I catch the gleam of brown eyes,
lashes like black lace, and
loose and loose and loose.
Arrows fall like the tears of God.
It is all that we know.
-- S. E. De Haven
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scriptedsilencea month ago
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Tumblr media
* forever friend *
you love hard,
even on days I don鈥檛 know聽
that it exists or show it聽
you make me laugh,聽
when I feel my world聽
is crashing down聽
you hold me tight,聽
when I have no words聽
to utter the need for comfort聽
you wipe my tears,聽
as you tell me聽
everything will be ok
you have watched me succeed,聽
with a bright smile聽
to remind me
that you told me I could do it聽
you have seen me fail,聽
only to tell me
when doors close聽
it only means another - of greatness
awaits my presence聽
and will open聽
you have kept me strong,聽
when I felt as though weakness
is all that would possibly surface聽
you are the very promise
and constant true commitment聽
every single day 聽
in the depths of quiet solitude聽
or the loudness of a busy life聽
that I will聽
have a forever friend
漏 ScriptedSilence. All rights reserved
Pic credit - Monika Luniak
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nothingiwriteisforyou3 months ago
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I let you in
As if it meant nothing
A passing thought
One shot ringing
Through the dark
You crept in
Wandering endlessly
Bleeding into my veins
Holding my heart
Hostage to your pain
Taking my life
As if it鈥檚 all
You ever wanted
As if it meant nothing
//to kill me slowly
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pelicandensity2 days ago
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I'm Counting On You
I count
every breath
keeping track
of my life
720
gets me through
the next hour
17,280
I've
made it
through
another day
6,307,200
I'm a year older
I count
every breath
searching
for a way
to make
every breath
count
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stormsofartemis3 months ago
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I have fallen in love with people too many times鈥 no, not romantically鈥 more like from a window, a thin sheet of glass between us, in a soft golden hour light. I have secretly dedicated a space in my heart for the people who aren't afraid to speak in colors, those that sweeten their coffee or tea with poetry, the rivers running toward their seas, the cold hands drawing warmth from the words of dead writers, the ones with music in their veins, those who walk their roads to the rhythm of Vivaldi's Spring, the passionate ones, the lovers, the children of art...
鈥 autumn artemis | journal entry
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