ritikajyala · 17 hours ago
There's a quiet love hidden in the question, 'Did you eat today?'. It's like a whisper in the dark. A whisper going..
'I hope you ate today, I hope you know I love you. I love you. I love you...'
-Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The Flesh I Burned
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whendidmythoughtsgocrazy · 2 days ago
Even just thinking about you kissing me makes my butterflies in my stomach go wild.
k.b. // but i want it to happen so bad
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crude-verse · 2 days ago
Upon the serrated edge of the night,
the estranged stars shine bright,
and the grey clouds hide
far beyond the unaided sight,
the predator night-herons
take stealth-flight,
and the nocturnal folk relish in delight,
but there are those who await the light
that pours courage in winning
a nearly-lost fight.
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alex-a-roman · 7 hours ago
I'd let you run my life
I’m not afraid of darkness, If there’s anyone   I am the one to let the demons in; But we won’t be friends, I don’t befriend, I will lie to you, I will deceive.
You could bring both hell and heaven To reside under this roof, in this room, I still won’t believe; We could hide under the same bed, Battle forever inside these walls, I’d let you win.
I’d let you run my life for me, The game is over, I'm tired of being good; I saw death, I walked through fire And I still don’t fear anything Like I fear me.
~ A. A. Roman
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soulwr1ter · a day ago
In between
My heartbeats
You smile rainbows of love
While raining droplets of heaven
From your halo eyes
Quenching the
Thirst of my soul
With the fragility
Of supreme tenderness in 
Which you kiss
My delighted ocean of ink
As you delicately
Meld into my blood
Your colors merging with
My own
Your name
Becomes my definition of love
As I breathe in the sweet peace
Of your existence
-J.Wool, Rainbows of Love, Soul Whispers
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mynotespoems · 2 days ago
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i’m mrs. lonely
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dreamsofacommonlanguage · 3 months ago
Being queer saved my life. Often we see queerness as deprivation. But when I look at my life, I saw that queerness demanded an alternative innovation from me. I had to make alternative routes; it made me curious; it made me ask, "Is this enough for me?"
— Ocean Vuong
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weltonboys · 8 months ago
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intangible - madisen kuhn
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randombookquotes · 3 months ago
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from a poem traveled down my arm- alice walker
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ritikajyala · 18 hours ago
Grandpa always carried the rope grandma made before she died- a string of yellow, red and purple. And I tried to write a poem about that but it's not easy to make poems about a love that survived death, a love that kept living even when the lovers perished.
-Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The world is a sphere of ice and our hands are made of fire
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enchantedengland · 7 months ago
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Grasmere, Cumbria, home to the English Romantic poet William Wordsworth. Here you will find the cottage that he lived in, the daffodil garden he planted in memory of his daughter, the tomb where he was laid to rest, and the lakes and trees and mountains that inspired his genius.
Now is the best time of year to take that train to Cumbria! And if you cannot, perhaps console yourself with the works of the Lake Poets. (photos @lakedistrict IG)
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crude-verse · 11 hours ago
Starless Eclipse 
Can I pronounce your name
or even utter ‘you’
without feeling empty
like a starless eclipse,
like a desert without mirage?
Lightless tunnels
echo silence
with a scout-like sense of duty
& obedience.
parades upon my subway heart
past midnight.
Shapeless thoughts
wander like the apparition stranded
far away
from the ground
where its body was buried.
Your fragrance…
just the idea of your fragrance
is imprisoning me
for crimes millions
walk away free.
But they are telling me
I can’t complain
as I foolishly surrendered myself
even though no one was
looking for me.
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sacrificialdolly · 6 months ago
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whendidmythoughtsgocrazy · 5 months ago
I want to fall in love with someone who’s equally obsessed with me as I am obsessed with them.
k.b. // healthily obsessed of course
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soulwr1ter · 2 days ago
I am more interested 
in sleeping inside 
your soul than with your body,
in enveloping my existence
in the sweetened breaths 
of your thoughts 
and blooming in the garden 
of your heart 
where I thread flowers 
through the crevice 
of its smile 
while singing soothing 
incantations to slow 
its rushing beats 
until my name 
folds itself inside 
your heartbeats 
as it dances 
on the whispers of
your soul that
lull me tenderly
to dream. 
-J.Wool, Dancing On Whispers, Soul Whispers
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orangecoveredhands · a month ago
what is love if not a repetition of history.
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kssndros · 3 months ago
“In this culture, we celebrate boys through the lexicon of violence – ‘you’re killing it,’ ‘you’re making a killing,’ ‘smash them,’ ‘blow them up,’ ‘you went into that game guns blazing.’ And I think it’s worth it to ask the question: what happens to our men and boys when the only way they can valuate themselves is through the lexicon of death and destruction? And I think when they see themselves only worthwhile when they are capable of destroying things, it’s inevitable that we arrive at a masculinity that is toxic.”
— Ocean Vuong, during an interview with Seth Meyers, 2019.
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thecrownedadonis · 4 months ago
“Don't worry. Your father is only your father until one of you forgets.”
— Ocean Vuong, from “Night Sky with Exit Wounds: Someday I'll Love Ocean Vuong”, originally published c. 2016.
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randombookquotes · 3 months ago
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from a poem traveled down my arm- alice walker
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ritikajyala · 4 months ago
Last night, I told my mother "I wish I was dead" in a fit of rage and winter clouded her eyes. But it wasn't white and it wasn't quiet, it resembled something like helplessness and rage. She was in pain and I knew I hurt her. I wanted to say something, anything, but how do you withdraw a declaration of war? How do you stop the bombs that already destroyed homelands? In that moment I remembered how she always told me that when she was a kid, she was too afraid to sleep with the lights on. Not because she was afraid of monsters, but because she feared her grandmother would die. Because when you're a kid, not seeing it means it doesn't exist anymore. I saw the winter in her eyes again and I knew I had switched off the light, she wasn't angry, she was afraid.
And I also remembered how she always told me I'd always be 3 years old for her, always a child, and for the first time, I heard in the voice of a three year old "I wish I was dead". My heart broke. And I wanted to hug her and hold her, tell her I was sorry, that I didn't mean it. Before I could move a hand, she left the room. The entire evening, I saw myself as she saw me, a 3 year old child. I saw the child hurt herself and cry herself to sleep every week, fight her friends with her tiny hands and two ponytails, I saw her depression and her anxiety, I saw her yell "I wish I was dead" and I knew. I knew. I wanted to shout through the walls, yell and cry and tell my mother that now I KNEW, but I didn't. I wept and wept until I heard a quiet knock and a soft familiar voice whispered, "Dinner is ready".
-Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The world is a sphere of ice and our hands are made of fire
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