#poems of instagram

[midarapoetry]

do you?

[that-poetic-disaster]

Letter to Nancy

What's the point of falling in love?

When one ends up brokenhearted,

and the other latched to another set of lips?

.

What's the point of falling in love?

When one has words unspoken,

the other making promises they can't keep?

.

Whats the point?

When one moves on,

and the other cries at night?

~

©that-poetic-disaster

[fromahealingheart]

back through this anatomy lesson I go

here the tears come / rolling down my cheeks

here the anger comes / bubbling inside my stomach

here the thoughts come / pop-ping into my head / “i hate him” / “I miss him” / “I want him in my life”

my hands shake / my stomach churns / my teeth clench / my chest heaves / my nose runs / my knees sway / over and over

the class is never concluded

back to school, g.n.r

[the-girl-not-next-door]

Listen, I think I need to say this. When I say, 'I want to be left alone'. I mean-I want to be left alone. I am not looking for any attention. I am not a teenager that is overthinking. I am not a damsel in distress. For the love of anything that you believe in, leave me the fuck alone when I want to.

[arcane-fire-poetry]

@arcanefire on Instagram

[cultof-aphrodite]

Joy Harjo “Perhaps the World Ends Here”

[theartoffresco]

[thesefallenembers]

do y’all ever write a poem about someone and then wonder if anyone has ever written one about you

[ughitsmimi]

-Heidi Priebe

[rosebud-poet]

[Black text on a white background that reads:

my gender is whatever makes me easiest to kill,

my gender is breeding stock, kill all men, can’t you just stay unobtrusive and neutral, the question cut apart in debate chambers, my ragged flesh and bones picked for statistics and arguments by vultures in suits who go home to too-young wives, breathing out my same old screams to useless onlookers sitting in rows, you’re disgusted by my blood on the floor but unwilling to shoot down what’s killing me slowly, what are the magic words i need to say to get you to care that i’m dying, 

my gender is polite young woman in a pantsuit long long dead, forward-thinking and modern, isn’t it funny that she lived as a man, she wanted better opportunities, we dug up the body and passed it around the archives and if you look here you’ll see the place where they cut out the most important parts, so sad to see such irreversible damage, so sad she never had children, so sad she was mutilated, but she was such a trailblazer, the first woman to put a bullet in a state senator’s head,

my gender is a bullet in a state senator’s head, shooting down vultures before they break my sibling’s skin, crippled tranny faggot (triple threat) with a score to settle, with a gash down the center of its chest spitting fire through pharmacy phone lines, never fucked someone who wasn’t an enemy of the state, never was your little girl, sticking around till the bitter end and triple dog dare you to come bash me yourself you bloody-beaked coward, come watch me be the monster you all say i am,

my gender is whatever makes me hardest to kill.]

[dioraberry]

berries & cream puffs🍓🍒

cr: ig

[mysharona1987]

[the-girl-not-next-door]

[writtenbyaloner]

I often think about how the moon connects people. Two hearts, hundreds, no, thousands of kilometers apart, bypassing boundaries, distance, and time, gazing upon the same moon.

– Abdulsamad S. M.

[theartoffresco]