1905 Belgrave St.

[fromdarzaitoleeza]

Sue zhao/Ryan O'Connell

[fromdarzaitoleeza]

Mary Oliver, from “When Did It Happen?,” Felicity: Poems (Penguin Press, 2015)

[rueyam]

some doors are never meant to be opened again, some things are meant to be left unsaid and undone. good intentions are the root of everything, but good intentions are not the solution. sometimes it is necessary to walk away when explaining yourself leaves you with more questions. it is necessary to know how to end things with good intent and leave things be. respectfully.

[leahberman]

moon mirage

instagram - twitter - website

[oldwinesoul]

“Poetry is what happens when nothing else can.”

—Charles Bukowski

[avaanish-deactivated20230625]

i think one of the sweetest part of loving someone, is having their wellness prioritised as if it were your own. it becomes natural to share whatever goodness you have or do, with them. like "oh!! this chocolate is so good! I'm going to save a piece for her!" or instinctively saying their name in every prayer you make. instead of thinking or doing good for only yourself, you do it for them too. love merge people in such a way, that they become not only a part of our life but an extension of us.

[moodsandmatters]

[radical-revolution]

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

“I have read your poems with my door locked late at night and I have read them on the seashore where I could look all round me and see no more sign of human life than the ships out at sea: and here I often found myself waking up from a reverie with the book open before me. I love all poetry, and high generous thoughts make the tears rush to my eyes, but sometimes a word or a phrase of yours takes me away from the world around me and places me in an ideal land surrounded by realities more than any poem I ever read.”

Bram Stoker, from a letter to Walt Whitman written c. February 1872

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

Written excerpt featured in Margaret Atwood’s preface of “Negotiating with the Dead,” (x)

[onceness-deactivated20240321]

Antonio Machado (translated by Robert Bly)

[metamorphesque]

I’m envious of poetry   for being more & better than I could ever be.

ode to my envy, chen chen

[prettyandmean]

I wanna cancel plans to be this way with somebody son 🥺🌻

[swansong-willows]

[desactivemaintenant-deactivated]

[oldhabitsdieh4rd]

realising you aren’t important to someone unless they want sexual gratification is an ouchie

[pinkmash]

[hillbentboy]

As he kissed her for the last time under the large concrete shell of a roof - how unromantic he thought, with the loudspeaker voices threatening everyone about scheduled times of airline departures - he still tried to hold time back, delay its pace, and a teardrop escaped her eye when she finally let go of him. Don't cry, he told her, and looked up at the sky. Just think, he said, five hours later if someone saw us from Pluto he would see us kissing. She laughed at the absurdity of such a thought at the saddest moment, but he sushed her, his hand covering her mouth. Don't laugh either, he said, remember this, two and a half million years later someone will peer at us from Andromeda and they will see us kissing in front of this airport, because this light would reach there then; for that galaxy we are still the future they haven't witnessed yet, but for sure they will. Twenty five million years later someone's heart will swell up because they will see this kiss, in the Sombero Galaxy, don't you realise this kiss will last forever? This kiss will dance everywhere around the cosmos just being in one place, inerasable, unforgettable. And when it will reach the outer end of the universe, when someone will view us thirteen billion years later from one of those ancient places so far away, like Messiers Galaxy, we will still be kissing, and still indelible because the universe is expanding faster than light. Don't you see, we shall always be kissing in every part of the universe all the time from today? We have defeated time, we are permanent, our kiss is etched in every stone around the cosmos. Look at the sky, love. Don't you see us everywhere, kissing in every conceivable part of the sky in between the stars, forever? And she looked up - as he walked through the door, fading into the crowd to face his destiny, to battle the final round of his cancer which he would eventually lose - she saw stars in the sky, and she felt so lonely that she shivered, but somewhere she knew, deep inside her being that felt as large as the cosmos and as forsaken, that she might always feel isolated and lost and abandoned, but she would never again feel alone.