#writing and poetry

[patroclusplaylist]

warm autumn slumber //pinterest

[crazystonergirl]

“Something in me wants more. I can’t rest.”

— Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath (1982)

[uaravsh]

"And what's the use of talking, if you already know that others don't feel what you feel?"

- Louise Bourgeois, Destruction of the Father / Reconstruction of the Father: Writing and Interviews, 1923-1997 (@silentroad )

[pagesofjasmine]

The writer | messy notes, imaginations, worlds, ink and healing power in lines.

@pagesofjasmine

[sunangelstears]

Caution When It Comes To Love

A Poem / Drabble

It's okay if you dont understand it .... Afterall it is just drabble .

@shaantiofher @kazukazuhas @sunangelstears @decaffeinatedcloudkryptonite @comicbookweirdo

The sculpture is called "A Kiss From Death" .

I loved you with everything i had Every fibre of my being Every heartbeat that my heart mad I dedicted it all to you

But what did you do ?

You gave me wounds And then closed them Using sweet words , silken actions But you know what Tell them all That my heart is broken

Broken by you You who gave me my first breath My first heartbeat You who gave me a name I loved you ……. The consequences of being Your perfect daughter

All my scars are open Bleeding profusely . Who are you ?

You are not the woman i looked up to You were broken twice and got back up But the second time….. Not only did it break you But it shattered me , It took you from me ,

You're not the same you .

Some God somewhere Has a sick idea of fate All we had is gone now .

I caution you , That , when it comes to love No caution is cautious enough , No matter the person .

[yandere-wishes]

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕋𝕣𝕠𝕡𝕖𝕤 ℍ𝕠𝕥 𝕋𝕒𝕜𝕖𝕤

My thoughts and analysis on diffrent characters tropes. Just deep dives into the dark of what we thought we knew.

💜Full

The Damsel in Distress Trope

Swan Lake (But make it yancore)

💜Drabbles

Sleep paralysis demon

Sleep paralysis but make it pink and cute

Tired Inventor vs Starving Artist

Cute engineering aesthetic

[bjourme]

If you're in a dark moment now, You've got this🖤

[stef67ania]

I just wrote my most toxic,possessive,crazy, disgusting love poem I idk if I should post it 😭

[4rist0tle]

Don’t think any less of me, lest you get bored of me

I think it’s quite plain to see, I’m not who I want to be

So don’t project onto me, I will just flee the scene

[patroclusplaylist]

"She was alone as everyone is every morning after a dream."

– Anaïs Nin, from "The Sealed Room" in "Children of the Albatross", 1959.

[thepastisapebbleinmyshoe]

I've loved deeply, and lost my mind, chasing his ghost, into the fog, of deeply, dark, distorted thoughts.

All alone, I softly cried, beside a psychopath, who's cold voice echo's, through my mind, calling, out from the distant past.

I am not that young girl, from twenty years ago, frightened to return home. Vindication, never arrived, and justice? I hadn't thought, of what that might feel like.

Perhaps, it's like flowers, softly blooming in spring, with all the truth, I breathed, into a modest, quiet home, beside her, the woman I know.

What should it feel like?

[uaravsh]

"The sensitive suffer more; but they love more, and dream more."

- Augusto Cury (@uaravsh )

[queenofthepeasants]

Goodbye stranger

I walked passed you today,

You didn’t even smile,

But I wasn’t really looking.

It feels wrong to gaze upon your face,

 A face I traced one too many times in my head,

One I sketched in my mind thousands of times.

We used to smile,

We’d smirk across eachother,

We were happy,

Close.

We were once familiar,

Yet I feel more connected to starngers I see on the streets,

Your face is a blank canvas.

Our memories are erased,

Ones I treasured so much,

But now their just moments,

Forever frozen in time.

Do you remember them?

Your just a face,

Skin and bone,

It holds no meaning.

My hands no longer itch to hold yours,

My lips no longer want to brush against yours,

My arms no longer wish to wrap themselves around you.

It was never real,

At least not to you.

I was just a friend,

Nothing more,

And no one you coud ever consider as more.

I feel nothing now,

I walk past you silently,

Avoiding your gaze.

My heart beat no longer quickens erratically,

It beats normally,

Slowly,

Thud…thud…thud…

I don’t feel it,

But I can feel my stomach drop.

The butterflies are gone,

They don’t flutter around you,

Not any more at least.

I don’t blush,

My cheeks remain pale and discoloured.

I don’t recognise you,

Part of me feels as if I should feel sad,

Now that I don’t know you.

Your smile is off,

Your hair is different,

Your eyes no longer hold the fictional sparkle that they once did.

Sometimes I wonder if the version of you I used to see was real,

Did I make it up?,

Did I make you up?

Perhaps I glorified you too much,

I made you someone you’re not.

My heart no longer yearns for your love,

Or your attention.

Now you’re just somebody I once knew.

Nothing more,

I don’t miss you,

Months ago I’d never admit that.

But now your lips are just lips,

Lips that I’d never kiss,

Or stare at as you laughed,

Its just anatomy.

A simple feature of your face,

A face I can’t remember.

I thought you’d scarr ,

But you never did,

You were there,

Then you weren’t.

Its as simple as that.

Even thinking about you slows down everything inside me,

And I feel nothing.

Part of me is grateful,

I don’t want to love you,

 I never did.

I like the freedom of emptyness,

Its calm,

I can cope… I can cope…I can cope,

Cope like I never did with the irrational feelings you instilled in me before.

Goodbye stranger,

Who I once cared for.

@sweetwarmcookies16

[crazystonergirl]

“I keep remembering — I keep remembering. My heart has no pity on me.”

- Henri Barbusse, The Inferno

[gloomyjadee]

A sample piece from the book I'm writing, please leave nice criticism:))

Rosemary, chapter excerpt.

Ammie sighed, tugging the old worn pink dress that she scoured from her mother's old clothes. Paulie watched her fidget from her bed, tilting her head. Although Paulie wasn't related to Ammie, Ammie couldn't help but see the old neighbor as a grandmother.

Paulie eyed her, looking the slim girl up and down. She takes a slow drag from her cigarette before sighing.

“You look like your mama.” Paulie says before flicking the cherry off the cig. Ammie frowns.

“I wanna look like me.” She grumbled, scratching at the itchy linen dress that went down to her knobby knees.

“Well, put on something you then..getting things from your mam’s closet ain't helping.” Paulie states, shrugging.

Ammie rolls her eyes.

“It's not like I have anything…were going on a date. I can't just wear some shorts and a tee, Paulie.” Ammie says, fidgetting with her hair, the fried ends shifting in her fingertips.

“Borrow something from that Chastity girl. Shes got a whole lot of uh…pretty things.” Which was Paulie's way of saying she thought Chassy dressed like the town tramp.

Ammie rolled her eyes, scoffing, lifting the dress over her head as she turned to her own closet. Paulie, who was sitting on her bed, threw one leg over the other.

“Or…you could dress how you normally do. The boy likes you for you, not for Chastity.” Paulie says, taking another long drag from the cig in her fingers.

Ammie sighed, facing the mirror, her worn panties seemed like trash compared to the girls in the magazines she found under Gabe's bed.

Ammie never thought about stuff like that with last hookups, but Gabe wasn't a hookup anymore, was he? She put a finger in the waist and, snapping it back to her body.

“I feel rusty.” She says, turning back to the older woman.

“You look like you've been through hell, which you have. Ain't nothing to be ashamed of hon.” Paulie shrugged, standing up from the bed, dusting her pajamas pants from the ash of her cig.

Paulie walked over to the girls closet as Ammie grumbled incoherently. Paulie took out a long sleeved black shirt, that fit ammies small curves. She then shuffled around on the pile of clothing on the floor. She pulled out a jean skirt, which had been much too small for Ammie, barely reaching the tips of her thighs.

Ammie blinked.

“Ain't that a little…” Ammies words trailed off.

“Trampy? Mhm. But not as bad as that Chastity girl..god bless her parents.” Paulie grumbled. Ammie sighed, eyeing the pieces of clothing. She stepped over, picking up the shirt before tugging it on, the soft thin cotton clinging to her skin. She pulled on the short jean skirt next, feeling awfully self conscious about her legs. Which again, wasn't something she usually cared about. She turned to the mirror, and Paulie walked over, pulling Ammies hair up in her wrinkled hands. Pulling a black ribbon from her pocket, she tied the sandy blonde hair into a ponytail, making the ribbon into a small bow. Ammie blinked at herself in the mirror. She felt pretty.

“You look like a doll.” Paulie said, smirking

Thank you so much for reading, this will be a romantic murder mystery based in the rural Midwest, very lana del Rey trailer trash if ya feel me...anyways I'll be posting character boards soon, hang tight :))

[apocketfullofpoem]

"Love has no meaning."

"Yes, it doesn't"

"So, you agree?"

"No, I mean it doesn't have a singular meaning. Its eternal meaning is spread over the parts and little moments in our lives. It's found on the table in your drawing room when you cover the edge of it so the other person doesn't get hurt when picking up something, it's in your soul when you wake up early to make the cookies exactly how he likes it. It's scattered into the little, mundane things of our life. Who wants that romantic date night every day? I want to know the person's little secrets, their habits, their embarrassed moments. This is love for me.

"This is love"