#writers of wordpress

[nightmareevara]

"What kind of music you listen to?" Voices in my head bestie

[ana--writes]

How many doors I have to exit before I finally leave?

[itsmaats13]

🖤

[deadlypoetacademia]

December. The month when things get sad again for no reason. When the sky is dark and life's scary, when the hopes of january are mixed with the reality of december, it's hurting and nostalgic and loud with such painful silence that is now getting difficult to bear.

[originalferal]

no one ever told me i would spend so many nights forgiving people who didn't even apologize.

[disguisedfeelings]

“Because when a writer gives you a gift as precious as their work, they give you their trust, their control, their heart put to paper.”

Lancali, I Fell In Love With Hope

[melancholiacs]

[deadly-danaid]

"I'm the kind of person who can kill a cactus; my mom, on the other hand, is able to grow an apple tree in a wad of paper towels soaked in coffee grounds."

Moka Lynn, The touch of life and death

[slwasabila]

I still remember everything, your favorite color, your favorite songs, your dreams, your deepest secret, the way you hated goodbyes—but we still said goodbye, didn’t we?

[bbingustheoctopus]

The sight of her inspired me to write about her beauty and everything that encompasses her presence. I realized that I couldn't capture all of her essence in just a few words. What better way to express how I feel than through poetry that she will never see? Poetry that calms me, clears my mind, and helps me fall asleep. As I took my pen to jot down my thoughts, it suddenly struck me: I’m not writing poetry ABOUT her. Instead, SHE has and will always be my poem.

[nightmareevara]

That urge to turn your giggles into moans

[ana--writes]

I say I don't care but nobody cares more than I do..

[potato-face09]

[deadlypoetacademia]

I don't know about soulmates but I just wish everyone had that one person in their lives in front of whom they can be vulnerable. In front of whom, they never have to fake their emotions, they never have to think before speaking, never have that fear of being judged. Just to yap about random things, to have that comfortable silence with, I wish everyone had someone and no one feels alone.

[originalferal]

[gargiyadav]

What do I do with my grief?

I know not how to handle my grief.

Where to put it, how to tame its insurmountable spirit.

How to sing it lullabies for my voice always crackles up.

How to call out its name without fearing the worst.

What to say to it when it comes running to me like a child.

What to whisper in its ears so as to soothe its wild nerves.

I know I can very well discard it, get rid of it forever, but if that would have been possible, i would not be writing this poem today titled, "what do I do with my grief"

I know not how it's so capable of being so alive when I, the harbourer, has died so many times.

Isn't this grief that I carry in my belly, my child?

If that's the case, it should have died long time ago.

But here it is, chuckling and stretching its limbs, looking at me with its endearing eyes, waiting to be picked up with utmost affection.