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#poets and writers
onurtaskiranpoetry · a day ago
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Her soul is seasoned to perfection.
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intoxicatednits · a day ago
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My head is hurting from healing
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vexheart · 17 hours ago
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Sing like there's nobody listening,
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wordsbyjenpoetry · a day ago
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Your pieces are welded to my heart. And I will always carry them with me.
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sorryforthebonyelbows · 3 months ago
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Kate Clayborn, Love Lettering
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Charles Dickens, Great Expectations
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V. E. Schwab, The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue
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Neil Gaiman
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Anne Sexton, The Sermon of Twelve Acknowledgements
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chillpotato · 7 months ago
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Robert Jordan
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aslisjournal · 14 days ago
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Asli Hersi
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lumiyab · 2 months ago
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working title is: zoe learns how to sext
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heartofmuse · 2 months ago
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Whatever you are doing, wherever you are, my soul embraces you. My heart places you in the middle of my sky for you are its moon, its Sun, its stars. The truth of my life is that I love you with all that I am. You are forever entrenched in the deepest parts of my soul and my heart is full of you.  I sleep and wake up in your arms. I inhale and it is your air I take in. I exhale and it is your breath on my lips. Every beat of my heart is a song with your name on it, for I love you as you love, my darling, and as I love, as we love, mirror of my soul, reflection of my heart.
e.v.e.
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onurtaskiranpoetry · 2 days ago
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You truly don’t know what your heart is made of, until someone comes along and breaks it wide open.
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and i know everyone is sick of hearing how broken kids these days are, how we used to think we were invincible and now everything we sing sounds like the same sad song. but do you remember what it was like being young and unhurt, chasing butterflies while the sun looms overhead? do you think there was ever a time our hearts weren’t being crushed in bruised fists and our shoes weren’t made of metal trying to drag us underwater?
and i know we can’t stop writing about the same things: those ugly kitchen knives and chipped teeth and how love always feels like drowning and haunted houses and splintered hearts and the way we dream of ghosts who look just like us and unending winters and open graves and how going back home scares us more than the world ending and bloodstained hands and- well, you get the idea but i always wonder if you think our misery is starting to sound repetitive. i also wonder if you’ve ever wanted to apologise. it’s too late now, isn’t it?
and all i’ve learnt in 18 years is that everyone loves a dead girl. isn’t that the lesson you wanted to teach me all along?
// (too tired to title this feel free to help hahaha)
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millen-poetry · 2 months ago
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speak of her over my grave
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and watch how she brings me back to life.
~Mahmoud Darwish
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wordsbyjenpoetry · 16 hours ago
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Our tears are precious to each of us. As they are the melting of our hearts. When vulnerability leaks from our eyes, we hold them in gentle, open palms. As if our own bodies wish to embrace us, in our moment of sadness.
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sorryforthebonyelbows · 4 months ago
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Too much joy, I swear, is lost in our desperation to keep it.
Ocean Vuong, On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous
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Jonathan Safran Foer
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Madeline Miller, Circe
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Richard Siken, Crush
“If only we’d stop trying to be happy we’d have a pretty good time.”
Edith Wharton
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Slavoj Žižek
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Richard Siken, Crush
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chillpotato · 7 months ago
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W.B Yeats
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aslisjournal · 17 days ago
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excerpt from  “I Argued with the Stars About You”,  Asli Hersi
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rawxfeels · a month ago
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All these people think love's for show but I would die for you in secret.
- Taylor Swift (Peace)
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ladytrist · 2 months ago
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onurtaskiranpoetry · 20 hours ago
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I want to slip my fingers into you mind and fondle your innermost thoughts, until you spread it wide to let me go deeper.
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because we grew up listening to stories about the monster under our bed
and when we’ve spent our whole lives fighting the inevitable, it seems like the only promise worth making
so the next time the monster tries to drag you under, let it hold your hand
if there’s any experience you have in common, it’s seeing the way they misunderstand
and when it asks you your name, the least you can do is scream out your darkest fear and deepest shame
monsters can’t leave the way people do, not when you’ve offered them a haunted house disguised as tragic art
even when there was a time you called this house your heart
// being haunted feels safer than being left all alone
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