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#prose poetry
mismatchingsockss · 2 days ago
I thought the earth remembered me, she / took me back so tenderly, arranging / her dark skirts, her pockets / full of lichens and seeds. I slept / as never before, a stone / on the riverbed, nothing / between me and the white fire of the stars / but my thoughts, and they floated / light as moths among the branches / of the perfect trees. all night / I heard the small kingdoms breathing / around me, the insects, and the birds / who do their work in the darkness. all night / I rose and fell, as if in water, grappling / with a luminous doom. by morning / I had vanished at least a dozen times / into something better.
Mary Oliver || Sleeping in the Forest
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fiiraaq · 11 hours ago
But the dead are what’s new. They’re born every day and when they’re trying to sleep death takes them away from their drowsiness into a sleep without dreams. It’s not worth counting them. None of them asks for help from anyone. Voices search for words in the open country, and the echo comes back clearly, woundingly: ‘There’s nobody here.’ But there’s somebody who says: ‘It’s the killer’s right to defend the killer instinct,’ while the dead say belatedly: ‘It’s the victim’s right to defend his right to scream.’
— ‘Green Flies’ from A River Dies of Thirst, Mahmoud Darwish
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merely-a-fool · 7 months ago
we should stop using the terms 'boyfriend' and 'girlfriend' and just start calling our romantic partners our lovers instead. it's gender neutral AND more dramatic
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boysaints · 6 months ago
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peach yogurt, 03.17.20
taglist + transcript under the cut (ask to be added/removed):
taglist: @richardsiiken @slcpunk @volcanogirls @iimmortalists @fairnell @pharmakeiia @brahmaands @alcara @jephah @lovecorerichie @exitwound @franzkafkagf @shopkin @colourofinfinity @bakaree @poemhater @malewifeasahi @dragonfliies @sunrisegf @prettyfuckingfine @captaintommyvega @imaginaryboys @vnusplanetoflove @calfmotif @seadazes @camifrog @saintsjoan @mononokeost @raavile @minnuet @loveislikeawindowinyourheart @sambusa @todochise @ohpombo
text transcript:  PEACH YOGURT
after Frank O’Hara
i want peach yogurt. i want forgiveness and cubed fruit on the table and for someone to hold my hands. i want to look at the stars without a telescope and make up my own constellations, 8pm but still warm outside, lying in the grass with love running towards me until my body forgets it is a body. no more past-tense verbs, no more perpetually closed windows, no more stamping my feet against the tile. i am going to make scrambled eggs in the morning and i won’t mind that they don’t taste good. i am going to believe that there is no one alive who is luckier than me. at dinnertime, i sit on the porch making promises to myself while the sounds of cooking drift through the screen door: the whistle of the kettle, the click-click of the stove as the gas hisses to life. a glass of mango juice sweats in my palm and i tell it that i am grateful, for spilled strawberry milkshakes and the warbler in the back garden that never stops singing and my heart behind my front teeth. i tell it that i am done aiming low, that a year from now i will be the guttural, back-of-the-throat scream you make when the rollercoaster finally drops. i pluck an eyelash off my cheek and wish for spring to take up residence in my lungs. i wish for small kindnesses, more peach yogurt, more sunday mornings, more sitting on the kitchen counter with my feet dangling off the edge. i wish for the world to be so kind to me that i come undone.
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a-quietsoul · 6 months ago
i am a hoarder of memories. i keep the ghosts of how people used to be and let them wander down the halls for me to see. dust collects the little notes you wrote, traces of laughter rang the empty corridors. what else have you given me? i keep them all safe,  next to the pictures pressed with dead flowers. i’ll leave the side of your bed messy, untouched as if you’re still with me. i can never let go, so i hold on, even if it leaves me empty and hollow. there's a whole museum of ancient archives, reminder of what i missed in all these lives.
Hoarder of Memories, Keeper of Ghosts // @a-quietsoul
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nothingwithoutwords · a year ago
i know exactly who i want to be. i've shaped this ideal person in my head, from the color she paints her nails in winter, to the silk pajamas she wears to bed. i think about her when i mess up, when things don't go my way. how she would laugh away the stress and know exactly what to say. she is the version of me that i most want to be. so happy and kind and always carefree. i've tried so hard to be this perfect girl, that i've forgotten how to be me.
the perfect girl in my head
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merely-a-fool · 6 months ago
i want to grow old with someone in the way that we'll dance in the kitchen together even though our bones will hurt from it later and in the way that we'll know each other's favorite scents and in the way that we'll miss when we were young but we'll know that we have a part of that still in each other
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jamerasjournal · a month ago
I need someone that loves me thoroughly. Through and through the easy and the hard. Someone who is unconditionally compassionate towards me. So that my heart may find rest. So that I can dwell in safety. I need true kindness and support. I need to bathe in their honesty, sip from their reassurance. I need effortless celebration of the glory of who I am. I need to be gripped firmly, not tightly. No noise, no chaos. Balance. Ease. Healing. Reception. Through and through.
-jamera naquai | Through & Through
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artemis-de-la-lune · a month ago
are you one of those swifties who were just 7 when love story came out and 13 when you discovered blank space and the entire 1989 and red albums and would hum or sing those songs without knowing what they meant, and later it felt so nostalgic when you grew up to listen to the same songs and reminisce about how it felt listening to them for the first time but now the the nostalgia is accompanied with a bittersweet feeling that lets you feel the songs and resonate with them so deeply, or are you normal?
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blooming-anna-rose · a month ago
“and it hurts me, to have so much of you in me and to not have you near. It hurts to not be able to hear your voice. It hurts to know I don’t feel safe with you, not anymore. It hurts to know that as much as I want to tell you everything, there is something in me telling me if I don’t want to get hurt, to keep it to myself. I’m lost and confused, but there are parts of me that I see and think of you. I hope you know I carry you with me, I talk to you in my head, I cry and tell you about my pain. And maybe one day I’ll be able to really tell you the truth about my life. But for now the best I can do is figure myself out and protect you from who I am in this confusion and heartbreak. The best I can do is be heartbroken and vulnerable, but I can’t do that in front of you.”
-n.c. // i’m sorry. i miss you
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iambrillyant · 6 months ago
“reclaiming yourself, will take time. stepping back into your power, will take time. unlearning what you thought was true and relearning to be gentle with the opinion you have of yourself, will take time. unearth yourself slowly, you deserve patience and all of that time.”
— iambrillyant
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