you carry stardust in the palm of your hand

maddy, 16; an archive of others’ words along with some of my own

[aseaofquotes]

J.R. Rogue, An Open Suitcase & New Blue Tears

[margot-terc]

[dogsandkittens]

november // prompt by adam @julykings

[stargazerinmoksha]

“tell me about yourself.”

tell me about the first time you met love. what did it look like? was she pretty? was he not as popular as you would have liked? but you loved them anyway? did it work out well? still friends? still a little in love with them? i get it. that’s fine

tell me about your first memory of pain. was it raining? does a word trigger you? do you ever cry alone? do you ever want to just be someone else for a day? maybe that’s why you write. maybe that’s why you art. maybe that’s why you survived this long. you found a means to an end that’s nothing to be ashamed of my love.

tell me about yourself. tell me about your laughter. is it a collection of every laugh that you’ve ever had? so fake that it’s real. so loud that it hurts. a smiling fool that’s on display. i envy the true sad people, at least they have something real to show.

[lifeinpoetry]

“& i could eat your name for days”

— Sophie Robinson, from “<3,” published in Granta

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

“…and when I’ll show my wounds to the stars, I’ll be dead.”

— Maria Polydouri, tr. by Manolis Aligizakis, from “I’m  the Flower,” wr. c. 1925

[cherrystxrdust]

i hate this feeling of drowning

i hate this feeling of never being good enough

i hate this fact that i’m worthless

that i will never be somebody’s favorite person

not in the way i want to be

that i am void of anything good anything nice anything great

i don’t know how to love somebody

but when i figure it out

it will get ripped away from me again

a candy taken from a baby

because it was as sweet

and i am as naive

nothing gold stays

it wasn’t gold yet

but i could sense the transformation

and instead of upping the value

i’ve dunked it in water where it now lays to rest

and as it slowly rusts

and loses its worth

i feel myself do the same

stripping my body skin from skin

bone from bone

brain from brain

until i am nothing but a hollow shell

of who i used to be

before i opened my eyes to the sun

[eli0tknight-deactivated20181203]

“I dare you to burn holes into me; I will bleed love and kindness from all of them, and you will drown in the things you tried to end in me.”

— Believe it, Eliot Knight

[cherrystxrdust]

i feel so stupid so so so stupid

as if i were ever good enough

as if i were ever able to be good enough

but i’m not i’m not i’m not

[inverbislibertas]

“the sun is up as I lay my head, but dark hours watch as I sit with a stiff spine, further than upright. this body, this corpse, they mock. this hour goes by, waits for the next with sadness as if the thing will never come. when it does, I mourn the previous. with a different position on the clock, I am brought gasps for air and clutches at my throat. my thoughts escape through my mouth. becoming nothing more than a vessel and carrying unbearable weight in my hands, I am ugly desire– for that of which is unattainable. I am a vessel for the bitter end– seeing the bitter end as a twisted image of peace, but the minutes do not let up. I no longer know impossibility.”

— a. h. // counting backward, a language misunderstood.

[okayperaltiago]

“Eternal whispers, glooms, the birth, life, death Of unseen flowers in heavy peacefulness;”

— John Keats, Endymion: Book I (via barcarole)

[astral-hearts]

“Human beings are funny. They long to be with the person they love but refuse to admit openly. Some are afraid to show even the slightest sign of affection because of fear. Fear that their feelings may not be recognized, or even worst, returned. But one thing about human beings puzzles me the most is their conscious effort to be connected with the object of their affection even if it kills them slowly within.”

— Sigmund Freud (via fyp-psychology)

[padmaspatil]

“the affair i keep having with words will prevent me from loving a breathing soul.”

— Noor Shirazie, Into the Wildfire: Battle Scars (via noorshirazie)

[okayperaltiago]

“‘how do you wash your hands so, old divinity?’ ‘with fire, with fire, little lover’”

— dust cities  (via nostlagiac)

[luthienne]

“…the grief / is stuck inside me, a poisoned apple / that won’t go up or down.”

— Lisel Mueller, from The Need to Hold Still: Poems; “Another Version”

[poemswords]

[silk101]

i want 2 be breathtakingly beautiful the kind of beautiful where people see u once and think about u for the rest of the day