calicoowlwriting

[calicoowlwriting]

[calicoowlwriting]

The ghost of my brain tells me to walk out of class and into the woods, I do as it says, I find myself lost in the wilderness and starving but I smile as I drift into the grasses and feel the wasp bite my neck, an ant crawls over my cheek and explores my tongue, I take off my jeans and my shirt and my socks, and I lie there complete, letting the sun eat me like an apple among the limp grass, I am the apple eaten by its loving worm, perhaps when I am ruined and down to the core, I may blossom in another season, and sun she will kiss me and the moon call me darling, and I may die, again and again, and remain as I am, bark and the remains of teeth eating at the dreams of a girl, sitting in her English class taking notes to breath 

[calicoowlwriting]

I am solitary as grass. What is it I miss? Shall I ever find it, whatever it is? The swans are gone. Still the river remembers how white they were. It strives after them with its lights. It finds their shapes in a cloud. What is that bird that cries with such sorrow in its voice? I am young as ever, it says. What is it I miss?

Sylvia Plath, from Three Women: A poem for Three Voices

[calicoowlwriting]

“I’m really starting to loathe you”

Dictionary

Definitions from Oxford Languages · Learn more

verb

feel intense dislike or disgust for."she loathed him on sight"

She said this to me yesterday,

and I’m still not over it,

the words running in and out of my mind

growing vines and eating me alive

i loathe you, she told me

and I’m sad to say,

i understand why,

I’m tried of trying to be different though,

and I shouldn’t have to ask you to care

yes you loathe me, but I loathe myself completely

you were the one who was supposed to be different

and you were the one

who was supposed to love me

[calicoowlwriting]

[calicoowlwriting]

I lied and said I was busy. I was busy; but not in a way most people understand. I was busy taking deeper breaths. I was busy silencing irrational thoughts. I was busy calming a racing heart. I was busy telling myself I am okay. Sometimes, this is my busy, and I will not apologise for it.

B. Oakman

[calicoowlwriting]

"I think that loving you has been the truest thing about me."

— Taylor Jenkins Reid, from The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo

[calicoowlwriting]

Because I didn’t have any money, I took pictures. Many more pictures than I would have taken had I ever had any money. So I only was ever able to steal an impression of what I loved and what I saw. Sometimes I hate them, because they have distorted the appearance of something once beautiful and instead have become forever something that will have passed me by. And sometimes I love them and I prefer them, and perhaps it is more beautiful in memory than it truly was at the time. Would I ever think about them like I do now, were they growing dusty on the shelves around me, watching me pass them by?

[calicoowlwriting]

and we will never see each other again, that is when I will love you the most

[calicoowlwriting]

I’m standing outside and I close my eyes, my cheeks rosy with cold.

I walk towards the forest but I stop before I leave the light of the house.

It reminds of the night that I died I think to myself, my heart shuddering, yet I cannot look away from that dark forest.

[calicoowlwriting]

Order my Poetry Book, click on the given link♥️

[calicoowlwriting]

[calicoowlwriting]

the all encompassing agony of wanting nothing nothing at all

[calicoowlwriting]

[calicoowlwriting]

IN LOVING YOU I EAT MY HEART; IN LOVING ME YOU EAT MINE

Mary Renault, The Persian Boy Stephen Crane, ‘In the Desert’ Grace Moloney, bite the hands that feed me Yves Olade, Bloodsport Natalie Diaz, Postcolonial Love Poem Edvard Munch, Two Heart (detail), 1899 Philippe de Champaigne, Saint Augustine (detail), 1650 Dante Alighieri, Divine Comedy, trans. Mark Musa Red Dragon (2002), dir. Brett Ratner Margaret Atwood, ‘Two-Headed Poems’

[calicoowlwriting]

You ask if I love you Well, what could I say? You know that I do and that this is just one of those games that we play So I'll sing you a new song Please don't cry anymore I'll even ask your forgiveness Though I don't know just what I'm asking it for - hold me now, thompson twins

[calicoowlwriting]

And in your mind, I loved you for a little while

And in my heart, I loved you always