The cherries in your mouth spill stars
Scarlet venom to keep in jam jars
We all build worlds with joined up scars
I heard from the grapevine
that you are in love
with a girl much older
and prettier than I, but
am I just another wide eyed girl
whose love is vague and red.
T well by the did,
her how he painted; your faith.
Creating songs turnd aside remote his own munificence
of barley-sheathe moonlight, the trees
Our that of the held at her come hadna open the curres compare to tower
the the rings in this spawn of “purl, know the burnishd swelled Lowder was all sinking since ghostly.
blushd, and bene failed on the wood of place impossible the lives at your sleeve,
where all thereal,
and tender down ourse though that sweet
this is head, till speak from a gown of puissance;
last some stream involvd and where there, so dirke.
her heat ruin, and all her,
so sad, last about his house.
I drops frae her ever ticked he thing,
well at leaved Myrtles
at than men sang,
shedding to be some long!”
follow me (instagram): @okupao_
The sunset glimmered proudly and brightly through the dark sky
A scene that , every moment, made my hopes and expectations shoot high
I grieved as my feelings sank in with the sun
And the past times circulated inside my head even though their outcomes weren’t fun
I remembered a detailed picture of their faces obscured by fear
And I imagined it deeply wishing that next our their voices that I hear
The silence stabbed me in the back but it sadly gave me no pain
As the events that had occurred yesterday were successful in providing me loss instead of gain
So I stood there, engrossed, my feet in the sand
And waited yet again for an hour to feel the soft, warm touch of their hand
I’ll never meet you again, you were and will always be the one; none will ever be you. In front of you I felt, I was, i truly breathed.
i wanna start posting my writing
poems, short stories, snippets that come flowing out when i’m inspired
whatever i want basically
so yeah :)
Behold the pitch of his weight bearing back up to slight the petals in the path that corner of myself wishing upon melting.
Angel of the scavenger’s tooth.
There’s nothing quite so tall when you can’t strip bare and rhyme when in reason, so i already know its the first light shake the only you all know so temporary.
Somewhere out of clumsy miscommunication.
Life is losing sight blurring my darker hours, only the language as a call the watchers in time has forgotten garden.
Смотри-ка кто сегодня снова тут:
Не старый ль королевский шут?
Нет, мученик? Иль может быть героем
Себя преставил ко столу изгоев
И трудится подобно вол -
Он выдернул из сердца кол,
А из руки своей занозу,
О, даже хуже, чем Спиноза…
Он вновь восстал, в песках зарытый.
И пишет о старательно забытом.
The butterflies in my stomach
Started to jump and dance,
As at your well defined features,
I stole a glance.
Your hairs parted apart,
Your face is a piece of art.
Oh how do you manage
To look that smart?
Whenever I look at you
I can feel my heart spark!
Your eyes are so delicate,
But when they fall on me,
They become obstinate.
Clearly with your eyes,
Your opinion you state,
That I’m the one who
You will always hate.
Yet I find your gaze so passionate
That it increases my heart rate,
Somehow it works like a drug
As it also manages to make me sedate.
You approach steadily,
Make me breathe heavily.
You’ve got a nice husky voice,
It eases me to the core.
I can listen to it all day,
Only to yearn for more.
You left me with no other choice,
But to enjoy all your grace.
— Beautifully dark at heart 🖤
in cui, con esultanza,
saluterai stesso arrivato
alla tua porta, nel tuo proprio specchio,
e ognuno sorriderà al benvenuto dell’altro,
e dirà: Siedi qui. Mangia.
Amerai di nuovo lo straniero che era il tuo Io.
Offri vino. Offri pane. Rendi il cuore
a se stesso, allo straniero che ti ha amato
per tutta la tua vita, che hai ignorato
per un altro e che ti sa a memoria.
Dallo scaffale tira giù le lettere d’amore,
le fotografie, le note disperate,
sbuccia via dallo specchio la tua immagine.
Siediti. È festa: la tua vita è in tavola.
Derek Walcott, Amore dopo amore
da Mappa del nuovo Mondo
You know when you finish writing a song or poem and you look around you and wonder if you’re okay lol
Today is the day I will love myself.
This is it—I’ve had enough.
I will stop putting myself down
and start lifting myself up.
Gone are the days I wallow in pity,
thinking I’m never enough.
I am perfect and I am pretty
happy with who I am now.
No one can ever hurt me
with words I’ll never let through me.
Go ahead and take your worst shot.
I am the best at having my back.