allthingsemel

[allthingsemel]

The violence and abandon from the starvation or abundance of love…both sides of the needle hurt the same even if only one side draws blood.

a mad dog would be a far more gentle lover to the rocks being thrown at him.

all hunger is, is love.

[excerpts from fatima aamer bilal’s moony moonless sky.]

[allthingsemel]

Love as a puppet string that pulls you towards itself with a brutal force…

Frank Bidart, from “In the Western Night” in Half-Light: Collected Poems 1965-2016

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DEED, torrin a. greathouse

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"Saga (I won't forget you when I'm gone)", Andrei Voznesensky (translated by metamorphesque)

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*

ada limón, after the fire

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i love how taylor swift wrote a song titled august and mentioned "living for the hope of it all" when that's the beginning of the end (of summer leading into fall and winter which is the actual end)

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oversharer girlie who is often surprised by how much i am noticing and/or feeling that i never run out of words to talk about it

some people might say I talk a lot  but the truth is I keep everything inside 

by laurenmaerie, some people

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"the willingness to risk failure for the possibility of love"

Jen Levitt, from “Dunes”

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sometimes this is me even without a choice

fatima aamer bilal, excerpt from moony moonless sky’s ‘i am an observer, but not by choice.’

[text id: my fist has always been clenched around the handle of an invisible suitcase. / i am always ready to leave. / there is not a single room in this world where i belong.]

[allthingsemel]

Yehuda Amichai, "Forgetting Someone" tr. Chana Bloch

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"One of Us", Paruyr Sevak (translated by metamorphesque)

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"Two Phantoms", Vahan Teryan (translated by tathev simonyan)

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Franny Choi, Waste

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"A Letter That Will Never Reach You", Hovhannes Grigoryan (translated by metamorphesque)

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[allthingsemel]

I ONLY LOVE YOU MORE BECAUSE THE WORLD IS ENDING

The news isn't good, and neither of us feels

like pretending, though the list of what we hope for

grows longer by the day. More news, good

or otherwise, everything witnessed by the light

of fires, and something we cherished always

burned away. So let me say this first: Brenda,

I love you. You make the world more beautiful--

how could I not love you for that? There are people

I'd die for, only they are not my children.

What I really mean is there are people I live for,

and if they died, I'd feel for a time out of time

with time. But I know as you do that endings are

upon us while love goes on starting over and over.

What this means lately is that each time I watch

a fly that thought it wanted to be inside try

with the whole measure of itself to get back out--

when the concussive sound gets to be too much,

I open every window in the house. If not for me,

if not for my life, then for those people I keep

finding my way deeper into life by loving. If not

for me, then for you and your children, Brenda.

But you ask if all of this pain hinders our capacity

to feel, and of course, we have to ask ourselves

because it's wise to put words to what drives us,

to say thirst

when the throat tugs the shirttails

of the mind and grief

when it leadens its surface.

If I'm going to lose--I can see that I am now--

let me at last be what I was made to be and say,

my only gift was that I was never afraid to love,

and love, I've never been more afraid.

BRENDA SHAUGHNESSY

[allthingsemel]

You don’t interrogate a human for all the thoughts they carry too. Thoughts are not actions are not guilt are not shame. But how does one forgive the unforgivable? A culture of pain.

The Moon That Turns You Back, Hala Alyan