[8pxl]

it's getting cold out, so warm up with some pixel art tea ☕️🌸✨ buy a wallpaper or leave a tip / twitter / instagram / shop 

[thedancingwalrus-blog]

@granny-core

[weltenwellen]

bell hooks, All About Love

[mournfulroses]

Sophocles, from "Electra: A Tragedy," translated by Anne Carson

[feral-ballad]

Yanyi, from Dream of the Divided Field: Poems; “The Friend”

[Text ID: “stop fighting, but I am not / fighting. I am noticing / where I don’t exist. / I should leave.”]

[mournfulroses]

Ada Limón, from "Shelter: A Love Letter to Trees," published in June 2022

[feral-ballad]

Bianca Stone, from What Is Otherwise Infinite: Poems; “Set Design”

[petaltexturedskies]

Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

[petaltexturedskies]

She had no idea how to cope with life and she was only vaguely aware of her own inner emptiness. Were she capable of explaining herself, she might well confide: the world stands outside me. I stand outside myself.

Clarice Lispector, The Hour of the Star

[petaltexturedskies]

Emily Dickinson in a letter to Elizabeth Holland wr. c. 20 January 1856

[2022-poet]

Twenty-One Love Poems [(The Floating Poem, Unnumbered)]

Whatever happens with us, your

body

will haunt mine—tender, delicate

your lovemaking, like the

half-curled frond

of the fiddlehead fern in forests

just washed by sun. Your traveled, generous thighs

between which my whole face has

come and come—

the innocence and wisdom of the

place my tongue has found there—

the live, insatiate dance of your

nipples in my mouth—

your touch on me, firm, protective,

searching

me out, your strong tongue and

slender fingers

reaching where I had been waiting

years for you

in my rose-wet cave—whatever

happens, this is.

[marimekkogirl]

anyway I love things like having independence, being intelligent, taking pride in my skills, not feigning incompetence, referring to myself as a woman instead of a girl, aging unapologetically, having pores, stretch marks, grey hairs, wrinkles and body fat, listening to my body's needs, eating as much as I need to satisfy my hunger, being bare-faced, wearing comfortable clothes, etcetera

[marimekkogirl]

adding to this that I love trans people and they're better equipped to understand the sentiment of this post than any transphobe ever could. transphobes will never be my allies in battling misogynistic expectations for women as they're part of the problem

[dailykafka]

— Franz Kafka, Letters to Felice

[vulners-blog]

— Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena

[dailykafka]

— Franz Kafka, Letters to Felice

[allyourprettywords]

"The Whistler," Mary Oliver

All of a sudden she began to whistle. By all of a sudden I mean that for more than thirty years she had not whistled. It was thrilling. At first I wondered, who was in the house, what stranger? I was upstairs reading, and she was downstairs. As from the throat of a wild and cheerful bird, not caught but visiting, the sounds war- bled and slid and doubled back and larked and soared.

Finally I said, Is that you? Is that you whistling? Yes, she said. I used to whistle, a long time ago. Now I see I can still whistle. And cadence after cadence she strolled through the house, whistling.

I know her so well, I think. I thought. Elbow and an- kle. Mood and desire. Anguish and frolic. Anger too. And the devotions. And for all that, do we even begin to know each other? Who is this I’ve been living with for thirty years?

This clear, dark, lovely whistler?

[allyourprettywords]

"Don't Hesitate," Mary Oliver

If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb.

[allyourprettywords]

"Wild Geese," Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. Tell me about your despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile the world goes on. Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain are moving across the landscapes, over the prairies and the deep trees, the mountains and the rivers. Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again. Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting – over and over announcing your place in the family of things.