~ I still remember it all ~

[echo-temporis]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅Musings and diary fragments by Elena T.

MINE: DIARY | POEMS | PROSE | READINGS | WEBWEAVES

[the-hollow-quiet]

The trees of my childhood were more a father to me than any man I ever knew. They were strong and gentle and constant. Their strong arms held me without tiring, whether I was crying or smiling or daydreaming. I miss them, more than I have missed any man I have known.

[dazed-cherry]

Green-wood Cemetary on 35mm

[fortheartsofnone]

Whatever darkness resides in you

Let me sit there in it too

We don’t have to speak, we don’t have to stay

But let me love you in this way

and when you’re done with all this night

Let me show you rays of light

[letmebethecure]

Broken conversations

A meal carefully prepared and dropped on the floor

You made me feel like I was hard to love

As if my flowers refused

To accept water that was never given to them

As if I was wrong for being thirsty at all

But it was you with the flaw

It was always you

[letmebethecure]

I’ve always been

an in between.

Indigo smiles

and crimson tears.

Often here

and never there.

I’m the fool at the beginning

and end of every journey.

And I’m uncertain

of where to

place

my next step.

[serratedpens]

Tourist, Sonia Feldman

[raelarkpoetry]

writing from the wreckage ✨

tender teeth, soft claws.

poetry • survival magic • zines

more: https://linktr.ee/raelarkpoetry

[griff-crimson]

🦋

Stagnation is a constant.

Tethered to a single straight line

That doesn't stray from its path,

And never, ever fluctuates.

In the corner of my eye,

There is a hummingbird moth,

An outlier amongst the bees,

Nurturing the daisies.

It bridges the gap of night and day;

After every spin of the earth,

Its moon remains the same—

A serene, fixed routine.

So then, if the moth is faithful,

Unmoving in its ways,

Why does it oscillate?

What compels it to change?

Perhaps I will never know.

I have been stagnant far too long:

A path that never seesaws,

A line that never bends.

Is there no grace found in patterns?

Repetition is all I ever sought.

But the moth lands on my hand,

Begging me to evolve.

‎ ‎ ‎

[petaltexturedskies]

Marina Tsvetaeva, from a letter to Vera Zvagyntseva, wr. c. February 1920

[merriamspoetry]

Sun Light In Empty Windows

There is only sunlight in empty windows

Where others have made their way

Remembering all the forgotten answers

Of why they could not stay

Rust now clings to all known wishes

Dust keeps gathering on window sills

There is a kitchen of broken pieces of dishes

And one couch tainted with rings of coffee brown

Outside a swing has turned into a wind chime

Where young ones once used to be

Some may ask when our time left us

In those old days of the last century

Merriam Coates

[childoflamb]

a friend

[poetofthelilacsea]

if there is nothing to tear you apart

you invent it. set the bread in the trap/tie your hands behind your back

you build it. sitting in the gutter/gutting apart your part-time lover

you know it never ends/unless you let it

if you left yourself whole

you'd regret it.

[nixscriptum]

[petaltexturedskies]

Janet Fitch, White Oleander

[feral-ballad]

Alicia Ostriker, from The Imaginary Lover; “In the twenty-fifth year of marriage, it goes on”

[tooferaltobeheard]

his tongue

is not his tongue

it is a question

he is asking

here?

or here?

or here?

i answer with my hips

with my hands

with the sound

i cannot hold back