caitlyn

from my rotting body flowers shall grow, and I am in them, and that is eternity.

[firstfullmoon]

Talin Tahajian, “It’s November again” [ID in ALT]

[fairycosmos]

i hope you are being compassionate with yourself today. you are your oldest childhood friend

[engulfes]

Taking a walk because it feels good going to bed on time because it feels good waking up earlier because it feels good eating enough fruit because it feels good doing a workout because it feels good cooking myself a nice meal because it feels good staying in contact with friends because it feels good… sometimes joy is work but it’s always worth it

[chloeinletters]

The year I went to the movies

[centaurusblood]

great things have happened is a lovely poem that's similar to this one

[nothingbutloveforyou]

i think waiting together is a love language. wait for the train with me, so we can talk a little longer. wait for dinner with me, we can slow dance in the kitchen. wait for me until i can talk after crying my eyes out, hold me, we will figure it out. wait for me when it gets rough, i know i can get through this (with you). wait for me in the car, this song is too good to not finish listening to it. wait for the first snow with me, cold red noses and bright eyes. lets wait for each other, i love you.

[latejulys]

@mangoslixes​

[flowerytale]

Jane Austen, from a letter to Cassandra Austen

[flowerytale]

Helen Oyeyemi, from “Mr. Fox”

[firstfullmoon]

Matthew Dickman, from “Grass Moon,” in Wonderland [ID in ALT]

[mossyshadows]

full poem on narrative mag here

[isletic]

[mildlydiscouraging]

[ID: The poem "Imaginary Conversation" by Linda Pastan in its entirety, as it appears on Poetry.org (link here). It reads:

"You tell me to live each day / as if it were my last. This is in the kitchen / where before coffee I complain / of the day ahead—that obstacle race / of minutes and hours, / grocery stores and doctors.

"But why the last? I ask. Why not / live each day as if it were the first— / all raw astonishment, Eve rubbing / her eyes awake that first morning, / the sun coming up / like an ingénue in the east?

"You grind the coffee / with the small roar of a mind / trying to clear itself. I set / the table, glance out the window / where dew has baptized every / living surface."

End of description.]

[dailykafka]

- November 10, 1917

- The diaries of Franz Kafka, 1914-1923

[ID: November 10. I haven't yet written down the decisive thing, I am still going in two directions. The work awaiting me is enormous. End ID]

[firstfullmoon]

Megan Fernandes, from “May to December” [ID in ALT]

[firstfullmoon]

Joy Harjo, “Fall Song” [ID in alt text]

[firstfullmoon]

Vijay Seshadri, “Memoir” [ID in alt text]

[heavyrain-dc]

“I’m not everything I want to be but I’m more than I was, and I’m still learning”

— Charlotte Erikkson

[karlvsn-deactivated20240312-dea]

[firstfullmoon]

Kiki Petrosino, “Witch Wife”

[png-heaven]

Vintage and antique love tokens