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soulfulreverie · 8 months

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bittersweet is the place where we rest our sore feet after dancing all night with a bottle of serotonin, oxytocin, endorphins, dopamine risky and raw on your cousin’s kitchen floor, a place where your hands find its way to the arch of my back, with you whispering, “I can’t breathe”, only for me to catch you smiling. bittersweet is how you tell me you admire everything about me in between inhales and exhales, sounding like a drunk person eager to have the next sip. bittersweet is when that bottle is empty and all that’s left of the bottles are wines and whiskeys and more nightcaps to sip out, what we both do not want to take away– like the night and the memories combined and the love that grew bitter and sour like the colors of wine. bittersweet is when you love me and i love you and we still couldn’t be together.

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adornself · 3 months

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unfinished rought draft

#poetry #spilled ink #vent poetry #spilled writing #twcpoetry #poetumblr #poetrypardy #writers corner #spilled poetry #poetry prose #poets on tumblr #poets community #new poets society #trauma poetry #writblr #deadwatered #rejects corner #unspokengrief

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trustonlystars · 7 months

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You were the best thing that happened to me, I am going around places and doing things that take me one step closer to our dream and I don’t mention you as often as I used to, I don’t tell people how I loved you and still do but I talk about something else instead. I say I have a lot, so I really do and I barely get moments to catch feelings, I barely get moments to breathe your name. You have always been the best thing that happened to me, and I don't talk about us as often but a part of me wants to keep you with me, alive in every moment. I don't know how to unlove you and I won't.

- trustonlystars | Jannie F

#writerscreed #spilled thoughts #excerpt from a book i'll never write #spilled ink #excerpt from a story i'll never write #trustonlystars #poetryportal #bitsofstarglow #writtenconsiderations #quotes #spilled poetry #poetic stories #poetrypardy #spilled tears #spilled love #writersnetwork #tumblr writers #writers of tumblr #excerpts from my writing

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fantodsdhrit · 1 year

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with aluminium eyes you say the past has no mercy left and everyone stays

buried

in their own season mistaking brief fulfilment for hauling fingers: your tune

scatters pearls

like you hope to give me

your eyes someday

as beauty and sadness penetrate one another at takahashi shores: where i'm

the most lost human

on the warm

breathing train beside you and a young couple fixated on their device: before

that we are spread short

on the fire exit circle

within our smoke-words: as you name every single panorama after all that

we breathed into each

other eons ago when stars

had ears that questioned everything above them and you were there

before the primordial: before i felt every single murmur with

my tongue

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cozycoffinzzz · 8 months

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The Life I Want

A house burns, and in its

place nestles a pond and fowl.

The pond is drained, and

surrenders to an orphanage.

Does tilling and sowing

not yield a harvest?

And if not the crops,

does it not build a stronger back,

and hardy hands?

No, no work is without

purpose, or result.

There's time,

I'll be fine.

The life I want

will be mine.

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afreenisnotapoet · 10 months

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What did you do to the girl?

When do they let you grow up?

How many unblown candles turning

to wax does it take?

When do they stop telling

you to change the way you are?

or hiding your the clothes

they hate to see you wear?

when does it stop

the glares of a father

every time you step

out of the house?

when do the whispers stop?

when do the sirens stop blaring?

when does a mother

stop trying

to turn her

daughter into herself?

how many girlhoods

does it cost?

How many wasted barbie dolls

and how many

wasted make up kits

does it take for a mother

to realise that her

daughter hates her?

when do they laughing at you for

loving something they don’t?

when do they stop killing

the girl who loves pink?

how many teenage

dreams need to shatter

for a girl to finally be good enough?

how many girls need to die

to make a good daughter?

when does it stop,

the house not feeling like a home?

when does it end

the urge to run away from it all?

when does it stop

trying to be the daughter who will

never be good enough

the sister too small to fill up

the hand me down shoes?

when does she stop feeling

like she’s standing naked

in front of

a crowd that hates her every

time she wants to speak what’s

on her mind?

when will the world stop

putting her on a pedestal

to make the world out of her reach?

when will the silence end?

when will she grow up?

why won’t you let her grow up?

why won’t you stop holding her back

because you refuse to let go of what was?

where is the girl gone?

what did you do of the woman she was supposed to be?

where has she gone?

what did you do to her?

will she ever come back?

where is her grave?

is that what you wanted?

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shroom-vroom · 2 years

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Absent”, first spit itself out of my kindergarten mouth after the name of a missing friend during classroom attendance. Absence is a measurement. It's the empty humans measure with all things important to them. Absence spells like a brutal telegram bearing bad news, the possibility of absence is a rat trap I'm terrified of walking into. I believed what Darwin said about the survival of the fittest and of every species that lives only a human once watched her children laugh by the fire- then grazed her fingers in soot after they slept and drew them on the rock where the moonlight fell. I know what is today probably won’t be tomorrow so I take my campfire moments and put them in a poem. Life doesn't break its rules even if I do so I become a caveman painting the feeling when you grab my hand to bite it but give a soft kiss instead. every time life and I play cards she gets all the aces while I, in my trembling heart hold a card called 'hope' and before my turn, I scribble in brackets, your name.

~ anatomy

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ho1y-water · 2 years

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is your heart hurt /

did your feet slip in the sand are you /

all right /

in the dark stillness of the night,

everything is warm again

and kind. a susurration of wings.

clairvoyance. squareness and linoleum.

are we still men

if we forget to eat, sleep,

if we spread out in pale grass and melt

and drink blood.

i saw you through dark water /

gleaming on dark water

like so many stars. and like stars

the dawn made you translucent. gone /

and like stars /

you do not love me back.

pink sailboat floating to nowhere

two ships sinking in the night with /

the blackness of night

all around.

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n1mmii · 1 year

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you feel like poetry

it’s 4 am,

it’s just you and me in the entirety of the universe.

everyone else turned into clouds,

now they're falling as rain.

i wake up in your arms,

just how i fell asleep in them.

i feel you breathing,

i feel your heart beat against mine,

i feel you dreaming,

i feel your hair tangled with mine.

you keep me so close,

so close that our souls almost touch each other,

so close that your skin feels like mine,

so close that we might not even be different people,

so close that we might be one.

your voice,

your goddamn voice.

the haze in your voice,

the way you say the words,

the way you carve those words in my soul,

you have no idea about the things your voice does to me.

you’re in your olive green sweater,

i’m unclothed,

but i’m not cold,

you’re all the warmth i need.

i slide on top of you,

you caress my hair,

your fingers tangled with them.

you don't fight them,

you stay there,

tangled,

with me.

you, feel like poetry.

you’re smiling,

the wrinkle on the corner of your eye,

the soft dimple on the corner of your lips,

you kiss me,

you taste like cigarettes.

davidoff cigarettes, the ones you like.

i place my hands under your sweater,

i can feel your body.

i close my eyes,

i take it all in,

feel it in my soul,

then carve your scars onto it.

you’re looking at me,

looking at me feel you,

your eyes are partially closed,

but your smile,

baby your smile’s so big.

you, you feel like poetry.

your hands touch my waist,

go straight up to that deepest point,

they stay there,

mold themselves in me,

decorate themselves around me,

like they belong there,

like they’ve found home,

“please never leave.”

“i want to sing for you” you say,

“i only have one heart, please have mercy on me” i say

with my hands taking your sweater off.

you sing “sunsetz” by cigarettes after sex

my heart skips a million beats.

my hands tremble,

my soul quivers,

just at the sound of your voice.

your hands are so big,

i would fit just right inside the palm of your hands.

you’d carry me,

you’d take me home,

you’d keep me,

you’d look at me and say that you own me.

it would be an honor,

beautiful beautiful boy,

to be owned by you.

because you,

you feel like poetry.

#writerscreed #creedrescue #poetryriot #twcpoetry #brokensoulsuploads #poetrypardy #electricexhibition #poetryportal #proseriot #abstractcommunity #illustrans #re-bumbleblossoms

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vercharles · 9 months

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As a boy, my favourite book was a collection of short horror stories. In one of the stories was a young woman and she was dying. I have forgotten if she lived in a big cold house or if she was poor and slept by the kitchen fire. I cannot recall if her husband cared for her tenderly or if she was a new widow, unloved and ill-treated. But I remember her being beautiful - her skin, pale as moonlight, as life slowly slipped out of her through the pages. There were no monsters or hauntings, just the horror of a beautiful thing dying. And I remember meeting you for the first time and thinking of that beautiful woman, between pages of horror stories. I remember wondering if she had hair like yours.

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soulfulreverie · 9 months

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you fed me, when I had no appetite for life.

s.a., dining companion

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adornself · 3 months

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1/11/24

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trustonlystars · 1 year

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I wouldn't take down the Christmas lights, and I wouldn't let the smiles turn away. You see, I am fond of staying back - and never leaving. So, if you asked me to stay, I would. I like keeping things for a very long time before I let them go because I can't be harsh with my heart. I'll let my heart have little things that are in my control, like the Christmas lights even while it's past January, like the pictures of a moment so magical, like the seasons long past they've crossed. I let winter stay till it feels the warmth of summer blending in the wind. I hold onto people long after they have left the previous pages of my story, sometimes time steals them away, sometimes they just don't let me. So I hold onto things that make the transition a little easier. I don't know how to skip phases, I have to walk through grey before I reach white from black. I have to explore all the shades leading me to the light. You see, I hold onto seasons, lights, and so many other things only because at times I cannot hold onto people.

- trustonlystars

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delightfulechoes · 2 years

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Drifting Wood

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cozycoffinzzz · 8 months

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Lost in the Trees

The body hears whispers

but aches to be bruised

it wants thrills that gore it,

sights that blind it

and joys that dismember it

if our bodies are temples

then make mine a shrine,

if our words and actions are incense

then mine should be a bonfire

the body is not new, but smacks at the wind

and howls at the horizon,

it kisses its owner, and runs off like a dog unleashed,

lost in the trees

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wildheartedghost · 1 year

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I slide both my hands into your beard and steer your face to mine

Your mouth holds me hostage to this feeling

I straddle your lap just like a straddle my own morality

The buzz in my blood lingers long after you’re gone

One day I won’t just get you under the cover of night when the cicadas play our love song

I can’t wait until the day when I go to sleep to the sounds of your heart beating with mine

#twcpoetry #writerscreed #new poets on tumblr #excerpt from a book i'll never write #spilled poetry #poets on tumblr #spilled ink #love poems #poetry #heartbreak #spilled words #spiilled ink #hurt #poetryriot #spilled thoughts #poetrypardy #love #poetic #short poem

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