My Words My World @arisirius - Tumblr Blog

ell-hs

hiraeth, do you even belong anywhere?

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// The love club, Lorde / Sasha Hartslief / original / Stoned at the nail salon / Buzzcut Season //

girloikawa

so much talk about love in the kitchen... what about the kitchen breakdowns

girloikawa

i am talking about baking at ungodly hours because you can’t sleep. i am talking about sitting on the kitchen floor sobbing. i am talking about staring into the fridge or the cabinets for minutes, there is nothing to eat and it makes you upset. i am talking about cooking at the stove, and then you’re wondering what it feels like for someone to wrap their arms around you from behind, and then you’re crying. i am talking about dishes upon dishes piled up in the sink. i am talking about eating on the floor. i am talking about the moment you realize that cooking for one stopped being efficient and started feeling agonizing. i am talking about mumbling to yourself in the kitchen and crying to yourself in the kitchen and when there’s only yourself in the kitchen

girloikawa

this

cowpokeprose

Maybe you aren’t annoying, maybe they were just annoyed. Maybe your entire personality can’t be boiled down to actions others found disruptive. Maybe peoples feelings are subjective views of you, not objective. The same way we teach kids to say “I feel angry when you do this thing” instead of “you made me angry!” maybe you should consider that people, due to their own personal beliefs about social interaction, felt annoyed in response to your actions but that that doesn’t necessarily mean you did something bad or are something bad. And while its sweet that you want to make sure people don’t have negative feelings, there’s a lot of humans in this world and we’re always going to be stepping on each others toes so maybe don’t let people feeling annoyed with you define you.

leptirchahar

Disclaimer: Dark

New Year’s Eve. It flutters again, small movements, losing again, a feather or two. Slowly the momentum builds, my heart is sinking low. Again, my hands will be red. I will choke it; again.

I told you; I knew it; It will move again. But my reflexes are faster, my hands grip it through the wings, and nails digging into its belly. Oh, you small fierce & feisty Swift.

With the strings of useless shitty excuses I bind it again; even its wings. Unaware I cut it here and there, somewhere bruising, somewhere bleeding blue. I bind the limbs too.

Why are you making so much noise? My head hurts because of your shrieks. I fix its beak with hot glue. You look so sweet, darling Just like they want you to.

But remove that stare from your eyes, too much passion is dangerous for your kind. I paint its cheeks with makeup and bright pink blush. Wow, you look like a doll. Once again, you’re secured.

Now I don’t know how to wipe this blood off my hands with my wings tied and bloody blank fucking mind. I smile in the mirror once again with blank eyes.

I know you’ll flutter again little shit of my heart, the very next year on the very same fucking night. I know I have to do it; all over again.

— LEPTIR CHAHAR ©

somewhatsomelikepoetry

I wait till you text me good morning, so I know you didn’t decide overnight that you don’t want me anymore

2103lovexx

If I could take the feelings that I have for you, just like our pics, I'd press delete.

thatdude-noah

"I'm still the person you didn't know six months ago, but I'm also the person you know now" -Ranboo

wolfer-aid

anglerfish

primulaceas

Mary Oliver, "I don’t want to live a small life" from Red Bird

holyisthenameofmyruthlessaxe

Interactive :: House Saints by Hala Alyan

julykings

your art would be crunchy, savoury, and warm, and it would carry the same emotional satisfaction as a home-cooked meal

ohhhhhh wow this is so Good & Nice

julykings

requiem for unfelt heart, unheld, unbled static king & wet land & rain & forgotten coats. dress the sheep in its brother’s ill-fit skin & teach stones to be tender - with each wall we build, another birth, another bout of ferment, mouth, another word said in god’s own language. his words are the tongue of cattle & like beasts, powerful with bad hate & worse love. some things just are. a fire just is. a wound is just something taken apart. touch you / me all over desperate the way the sun is. a gasp, a shatter, an infection to avoid with spit. lick the blood from my palm. (morning) we both fake sleep, stirring the hay like 2 unbearable mice in a field blaze. up to my neck in this melting wax, i’m basically a saint asleep in the straw. tell me how you say fire without burning it all down. tell me how you say land without wrestling the earth & making it know you.