my conversational mind

my attempt of capturing the world i see through words

[and-notes-to-my-heart]

this isn't my main blog. this blog is primarily for my poetry, but i also just treat it as i would my main blog kinda?

[fran-aka-mak]

hug meter time 🫂 a "challenge" meme mainly for twt (will reblog the results under this post when done!)

[and-notes-to-my-heart]

The shame of being loved               for making a dent in the sun’s light          for breathing what belongs to the birds             with my repeated offence, my blood drawn seemingly from my own hand                  you would still hold them. So I protect them from the                             cuts of my own nails.     blasphemy of the earth, you are loved, so return it by loving what is in their heart. you.

[and-notes-to-my-heart]

random quick poem

The sound of the trees is the origin of song The song that befriends & shelters from the sun

The song of your voice intwines with the branches of mine Bleached by the rocks of the sun

[nessimaki-deactivated20141106]

[dialupmodern]

Babe, you okay? you reblogged “and we were nice to each other” like 12 times again

[naumin]

i drew this comic more than 10 years ago :) couldnt even tell u who i was thinking of now cuz i hardly remember… cant believe it resonated with so many people!!!

[simplycifer]

yearning is a fucking curse

[twospiritstooprideful]

clocking in to my shift at the yearning factory

[within-the-last-minute]

stay safe because i like being alive at the same time as you.

[and-notes-to-my-heart]

hey,

did you look at poetry and art events and rest the tenseness in your eyes because "____ would love this"

did you ever archive a song because it reminded you of me? were you going to reccomend it to me?

when you wanted to sing that song, and looked right at me, were you in a silent way of song, trying to convey something? or were you just trying to be a closer friend to me, with a common interest. we were already friends though.

did you relax when i tried to do your hair because it was just nice, or because it was me?

did you keep on doing that stupid thing every time you felt my hands go slack against your arm?

dear gods, did we have a chance of finding heaven between our intertwined hearts? or is it my hopelessness trying to speak over the logic of my love?

[and-notes-to-my-heart]

recently, i've started to talk to you in my mind sometimes. we're in that field from year 10 camp, it's somewhere deep in summer, but you can still smell a bit of the spring, and the grass hasn't been cut.

we're holding hands while i try to figure out what i think about the universe with my eyes fixed on you, and you gaze back while fiddling with my wedding band and yours

we're both lying down, with a light breeze brushing hair out of our eyes

and we're still, we're blissed, we know each other

it's been so long since we have, we didn't grow together, but here we did

me in my browns and you in your almost golden straw, with freckles that you didn't even know existed before

[medievalfoxx]

i was not made for hookup culture, i was made for the most soul crushing experience ever. i was born to feel everything entirely and endlessly. i was made to feel everything deeply

[lemonloaves]

“I am not a violent dog I don’t know why I bite.”

“The world is cruel, therefore I will not be.”

“I would die for you. Oh, how I would kill for you.”

“I would live for you” blah blah blah…

But what about…

“ Well, I would be kind for you. I would reject the impulses to indulge in my violent nature for you. I would wake up and get out of bed an hour early every morning to make coffee and breakfast for you. I would be there no matter what. I would leave the light on for you until you felt safe, and I would hold you so tight until you felt at peace. Sure, I can be strong if I have to, I can fight if truly necessary. But when I think about the way that I love you, it does not make me feel violent. It makes me feel quiet and gentle. ”

[lemonloaves]

“I am not a violent dog I don’t know why I bite.”

“The world is cruel, therefore I will not be.”

“I would die for you. Oh, how I would kill for you.”

“I would live for you” blah blah blah…

But what about…

“ Well, I would be kind for you. I would reject the impulses to indulge in my violent nature for you. I would wake up and get out of bed an hour early every morning to make coffee and breakfast for you. I would be there no matter what. I would leave the light on for you until you felt safe, and I would hold you so tight until you felt at peace. Sure, I can be strong if I have to, I can fight if truly necessary. But when I think about the way that I love you, it does not make me feel violent. It makes me feel quiet and gentle. ”

[and-notes-to-my-heart]

guess who's back? *finger guns*

.....and realised that they have depression......??

[and-notes-to-my-heart]

this was my october cannon event btw

[and-notes-to-my-heart]

sure, when i want to blush, or for my ears to go red, i'll think of love hearts and romcoms.

but sometimes...

....in a dark room....

...i'll close my eyes for a second, just to listen to the shadow of a laugh, and when i open them, i can see a fleeting glimpse of the sun (behind your hair)

[and-notes-to-my-heart]

grown people say that they simp over damian, barely anyone bats an eye

BUT WHEN I SAW I WANNA ADOPT HIM, SOCIETY- SOCIETY SAYS I'M NOT OLD ENOUGH!!!

[and-notes-to-my-heart]

what rosiness had meant

i like being the poet, who lovingly lays the world and its emotions on paper with ink. i love being the photographer- the painter; to marvel at the beauty and majesty of existence and the power of life. i can control how unrealistic it is, and translate the buzz of existence, and the connection of love.

but sometimes i wonder what it's like to be immortalised in oils with my life and likeness translated to a tee with colours and light a brush gently tracing my jawline. a pallete covered in various shades of purple and brown just to get my lack of sleep just right. to have my personality scrawled down on paper, not by myself, but still perfectly depicted. the ink colour changed a few times just because i kept on saying a new colour every time i was asked which was my favourite. preserved by art after i return to the pulse of existence.

to be bookmarked in the vastness of everything, highlighted, dogeared, not as a shiny model, but as myself, a human who was existed in, and would be pasted into time.