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lunatic-muse · 2 months ago
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If the moon smiled, she would resemble you.
You leave the same impression
Of something beautiful, but annihilating.
— Sylvia Plath, The Rival
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seravph · a year ago
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I THINK I AM GOING TO CUT MY HAIR
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withlovefromcannelle · 27 days ago
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Whosoever is delighted in solitude is either a wild beast or a god.
—Aristotle
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beautyinhealing · a month ago
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time doesn’t heal all wounds.
i used to mean something to you.
the burning pain of your absence reminds me that
i no longer do.
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academic-nyctophile · 4 months ago
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Melancholy is a very beautiful condition. I become addicted to it very easily and willingly.
- Thomas Bernhard
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bitter-aubade · 5 months ago
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a.b | seen (1/09/2022) it has a companion, here
for more of my work check out my instagram & my paragraph
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flammaelunae · 2 months ago
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vodkakilledtheteen · 10 months ago
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I thought I would always love you. But I guess I was wrong. The thing is you can stop loving someone. I know sometimes it may feel like not loving them isn't ever going to happen. But days will go by. Maybe a few months or a little over a year. And one day you're going to wake up and you're not going to even think about them. Now, this will happen slowly but eventually, you're going to notice that your heart has stopped bleeding. And I'm talking about that 3 am I'm thinking about so and so love or my heart is beating so fast the first time we kissed love. Soon enough your mind isn't going to be a house that's on fire and you're going to be able to escape. The truth is sometimes things can feel like they're never going to end, but turn on your favorite show, eat the strawberry ice cream in the fridge, delete every picture that brings bad memories from your phone, and remember the person you should always love is: You.
Alexa Evangelista, the book I've been writing for years
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svrpoetry · 3 months ago
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Her eyes are like a book and she has a habit of hiding love letters between its pages.
⎯⎯ SVR
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little-bird-sings-forever · 5 months ago
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To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all.”
-Oscar Wilde
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andileighwrites · 16 days ago
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Vultures
...
What is even here? Here without a friend. Crashed through broken bottles. Without love to spend. There are many secrets. Written down are many lies. Vultures crave convenience With their razored eyes.
...
Andi Leigh
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lunatic-muse · 4 months ago
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I know the bottom, she says. I know it with my great tap root:
It is what you fear.
I do not fear it : I have been there.
— Sylvia Plath, Elm
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seravph · a year ago
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i think angels look down on us and cry by a.dp
tag list under the cut:
@jean-louise-finch @larywitchlingacademic @dreamertrilogys @psychicdonuts @carfuckerlynch @iwishiwaschaotic @hydratedghostcamp @fuckyername @iimmortalists @teelise @horriblegod @gayngel @anaplekte @artemial @cuspofabreath @evening-primroses @myspacelolit4 @thefondestblindestweakest @[email protected] @ovsilenceandwhite @gleekoftheweek @owlmylove @peoplehood @oww1ez @snooopyswaggy @ditzyoracle @skintwister-11 @thesewersof-paris @loveruns @theliarsaesthetic @anger-enthusiast @youngnorth @biseksualnaleia @unbalancedscale
if you would like to be added or removed pls let me know :^)
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withlovefromcannelle · 23 days ago
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like you, I can't sleep, because I love too many things, and my heart, dressed like the dead, overflows towards the universe.
—Miguel Hernández, tr by Robert Bly, from The Selected Poems : "Death"
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n-ehpamoi · 5 months ago
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Oh, if my heart were soil,
it would be one, soiled.
The flowers here had grown weak,
become stilted and dry --
petals long since made way to sullen winds.
The blood in my earth
is poison to the sincere seeds
of those I wish
would sow themselves in
these barren lands.
I can offer only sanguine feeding
to suffering lillies, so starved
and hungry, I'd welcome a beautiful leech
to drink my heart dry --
problem is,
I've never known a flower
willing to gorge itself, and grow,
on hemoglobin and iron.
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academic-nyctophile · 4 months ago
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"We don't even ask for happiness, just a little less pain"
- Charles Bukowski, Letter to William Packard
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bitter-aubade · 5 months ago
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just some ThoughtsTM. companion to this post
a.b
for more of my work check out my instagram & my paragraph
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flammaelunae · 2 months ago
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beach days
I used to respond to every low tide
by carrying buckets out to the sea,
filling them with water and bringing it
back to the shore where it drained away
into the sand almost immediately.
I wanted to build something so badly, you know?
But you caught me in the act of creation,
took a look at my sandstone house
like it was haunted.
(I don't blame you - if I recall it, it seems
that I went over the top with the design anyway.)
I've always loved expansive spaces;
need another chamber, enough room to breathe -
but once the fire starts, it won't matter,
there's no place big enough to keep you safe.
Once the fire starts, and oxygen goes low,
you'll suffocate just anywhere.
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adornself · a month ago
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roughdrafts
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helenasurvives · a year ago
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not like other girls
was a title i coveted
but never earned.
i wrote off makeup,
i stopped talking about fairies and mermaids
to research superheroes.
i quit ballet in favor of taekwondo
but even in a plain white dobok and a brown tti,
dripping sweat and exhaustion
i was not enough.
i was vengeful in my frustration
notorious for the blood on my gloves—
we weren’t supposed to aim for the nose
but i was smaller and younger
and a good actress.
deep down i think i knew
i would never be like the girls
who weren’t like other girls,
and that made me wonder
what about other girls was so bad,
and why there were no boys
who weren’t like other boys.
i expected other girls to be what i’d seen on tv
and read in books,
but instead i was met with compliments,
kind eyes and genuine voices,
proclaiming boys were to be seen and not heard.
i learned that i was pretty
and i looked cute in pink
and the school confiscates pocketknives
but keys fit between your fingers.
i fell in love with other girls
when they took his sneer as a declaration of war,
unleashed their tongues like rabid dogs
in defense of girls they’d never spoken to
and flashed sharp grins
when their words bit hard enough
to reward them with tears.
i watched in awe
as other girls filed their nails into claws,
drove needles through their ears and noses
and lined their eyes with intimidation.
the judgement of their fathers
weighed down their bare shoulders
and adorned their short skirts
but every time he voiced it
their scissors took another inch off the bottom.
they were feral, and territorial,
they were disobedient and wanted blood,
they dressed how they wanted
and if you looked and didn’t like it
that was your problem.
i failed at not like other girls
because i met other girls
and i remembered my breath was fire
and my teeth dripped venom,
my hair was a nest of snakes
and my gaze was stone;
they knew i was a gorgon
years before i did
and now i’ve finally
become one.
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