awaitingapricity
awaitingapricity
plausibly poetic
178 posts
what good is a world without words
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awaitingapricity · 7 years ago
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8.11.2018
I hunger for your voice, as if it were honey, dripping sunlight from a comb. When I am consumed, steeled by blue, you radiate a deep yellow tone, so soothing. The whole trembling world stills in your golden embrace and I weep for its loss, though it need never come.
An exquisite reminder of light, widening your eyes, of certainty, pursing your lips of mischief, wrinkling your nose. A bloom of your color can have no worthy price.
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awaitingapricity · 7 years ago
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awaitingapricity · 8 years ago
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awaitingapricity · 8 years ago
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you’ll be dreaming that you don’t need to breathe; that breathless silence is the music of the dark and it’s part of the rhythm to vanish like a spark.
Wislawa Szymborska, from Poems: New & Collected; “I Am Working on The World,”
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awaitingapricity · 8 years ago
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12.17.2017
The sunny lacquer is setting, staining the siding ever so cheerfully, casting golden light on the snow so casually it seems spirited by summer rays.
There is an unsuspected sorrow furrowing the painter’s brow, as she just now is realizing her color’s discontinuous nature; It’s a beauty unparalleled.
The bare trees are earthen grey and the pavement a tarnished tarmac. The composition reads caution, and its companions are awash with a subdued blue.
Her store of pastels is depleted; they sing in vivid unison, in a vibrato that wavers on sight but unseen calls, a modest siren. She should strike this, her vision, but it is her hope, externalized.
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awaitingapricity · 8 years ago
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loving you was the most exquisite form of self destruction.
d.j
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awaitingapricity · 8 years ago
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Democrat and Chronicle, Rochester, New York, January 4, 1907
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awaitingapricity · 8 years ago
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12.15.2017
it grew cold without you,
i am trapped beneath the sheets
shivering in solitude.
there is so much I wish I’d said
to show possibilities in life.
my distance was self-imposed
and my silence proposed
a falsity of forgotten years.
now there are just memories
of crystallized breath hanging
above our heads, a chandelier
rattling as the iron tracks
tremble from the weight
pressing down on them,
thundering closer to leave us
trembling in its wake.
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awaitingapricity · 8 years ago
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12.5.2017 - 2
to the big brother I never had;
your laugh could cut the night air
clear in half, and your arms
squeezed so tight I couldn’t breathe
but I never wanted you to stop.
your wide mouth grin teased
me relentlessly about this or that
and made me take life a little less
seriously. i thought it couldn’t be
so sad if you could still smile
in spite of it all.
i don’t know when you gave up,
because when I left you were
improving, taking each day to step
a little further away to safety.
i wish you could have seen me
learn to swim in a bigger pond
and know where my courage
came from. love, me
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awaitingapricity · 8 years ago
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awaitingapricity · 8 years ago
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12.5.2017
black wisps frame the portrait
faded and stained with dust.
faintly you can make out the outline
of a slender face, pale
and shifting. it has lost intrigue
for you, passed over one too many
times for novelty. eyes which once
were held attentive are drawn away,
and carefully tousled hair falls
untouched. you have no depths
to reach for, or fingers to lace
together. you are the shallow
shadows shading their eyes
and living - still, colorless
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awaitingapricity · 8 years ago
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12.4.2017
The warmth of anguish holds me,
sunken into the earth as though
mourning a loss to come.
I think of his lips puckered
into an “oh” and a haze carefully
spilling into the air, curling
through the empty space we fill
and it’s a striking numbness
we are aware of.
If only you knew her too,
the sunshine whose delight bubbles
through you, knowing you compare
to her, and whose attention is beautifully freeing. Maybe this love
would have given you cause to stay,
I’d rather lay in the grave with you
than give up this sheer careless bliss. We’ll never be more
than shadows loitering by
the train tracks and yet
we both pretend to be more.
Her light is unmatchable -
to think I could go silently
when she sets on another horizon.
I think of you often, of how you traded one set of tracks for another,
but I don’t know why you did
or why I didn’t -
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awaitingapricity · 8 years ago
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Let me know when you decide to miss me, so I can tell you it’s too late.
Poetry At Most (via poetryatmost)
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awaitingapricity · 8 years ago
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awaitingapricity · 8 years ago
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11.19.2017
i press the colorful cube to the underside of my tongue and shudder as it leeches saliva, releasing vague sweetness.  it’ll be our game in the coming hours i wonder what the rules are this time around.   the first round i saw i couldn’t win, you’ll never take my hand in yours without intending to let it go the next round i knew i’d been deceiving myself, had pulled wool over my eyes, and ignored the hand always outstretched to catch me when i fall.   i’m sorry if i brought you down – these words will follow me every night losing you can’t bring me down; there’s nowhere without you, the room spins, the carpet breathes, lights trail behind each motion and i become but a figment of my own machination
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awaitingapricity · 8 years ago
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I put up a front like I don’t care, like I don’t feel. But it’s because I’ve cared too much, felt to much, that I don’t want to go through that all over again.
Nicolas De Leon (via nicotineposts)
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awaitingapricity · 8 years ago
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11.18.2017
the woven threads made a pattern swimming in disjointed circles around themselves. a dark curl sprung from the center, careless, crashing into the pale lengths of the arrows straining to fly, yet visibly untethered. perhaps ensnared by their persistent longing, a desire to be steadied; no longer wavering, they were thin branches plucked and left to embrittle then were carved by deft hands in the warm light of a winter hearth, now unaided by her arbitrarily cool tendril as she embraces them whimsically. audibly, their core splinters – revealing the hollowness permeating their structure, now carved out to allow sweet reverberations – her voice circling back to insincere adoration, faintly resembling reciprocation but without warmth.
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