soft

gentle soul

[half-baked-poetry]

Oh to be loved by someone as soft as you

[half-baked-poetry]

“The thing about being second is that you start thinking, “atleast I’m not 3rd…” “atleast I placed anyway…” & that’s where you end up staying in a situation that gives you less than you give… less than you deserve… Maybe wanting to be special for once is selfish… But so is giving someone your all & having them not return atleast half of it… No one deserves to be second, not even for a second, no one deserves to be second guessing or experiencing secondhand love… especially to someone they put first… No one talks about how they’d rather a consolation prize or participation medal instead… How 2nd place sounds like “in absence of” & when is 1st place ever not there? How sometimes you think you are 2nd when you aren’t even an option… how they are still the only person you’d choose… how 2nd place is a sugar-coated “you lose”… Isn’t it funny how the back-up plan has your back more… because I mean… why do they even need a back-up plan anyway? But in all the discussions of second place, we forget to talk about entering the race knowing we won’t win but still expecting to anyway…”

— Atleast you tried

[anancientheart]

ok universe, i’m ready to feel good things. make me feel good things.

[anancientheart]

whenever i post this it works  reblog if u want to feel good things & the universe will bring u something sweet 

[anancientheart]

ok universe, i’m ready to feel good things. make me feel good things.

[anancientheart]

whenever i post this it works  reblog if u want to feel good things & the universe will bring u something sweet 

[half-baked-poetry]

Truth is, I'm always quiet because I'm keeping secrets from myself.

Confession

[half-baked-poetry]

“The thing about being second is that you start thinking, “atleast I’m not 3rd…” “atleast I placed anyway…” & that’s where you end up staying in a situation that gives you less than you give… less than you deserve… Maybe wanting to be special for once is selfish… But so is giving someone your all & having them not return atleast half of it… No one deserves to be second, not even for a second, no one deserves to be second guessing or experiencing secondhand love… especially to someone they put first… No one talks about how they’d rather a consolation prize or participation medal instead… How 2nd place sounds like “in absence of” & when is 1st place ever not there? How sometimes you think you are 2nd when you aren’t even an option… how they are still the only person you’d choose… how 2nd place is a sugar-coated “you lose”… Isn’t it funny how the back-up plan has your back more… because I mean… why do they even need a back-up plan anyway? But in all the discussions of second place, we forget to talk about entering the race knowing we won’t win but still expecting to anyway…”

— Atleast you tried

[half-baked-poetry]

Prompts

Send me prompts via anons. Anything that means everything to you.

[hilomiloovo-deactivated20180415]

Reblog if you actually have made great friendships on tumblr.

[half-baked-poetry]

Tomorrow the paper boy will deliver dreamscapes on landscape porches- trembling with the birds but politely declining your cup of tea.

In today’s news you forget to give him the tip- both monetary (which he also declines every time) & “don’t stop giving off light.”

Tomorrow the paper boy tosses two instead of one but tosses coins to toss paper…

Heads- he continues, tails- he stops…

Tails- he stops…

Heads- he loves me,

Tails- he loves me not.

Tomorrow the paper boy’s smile reflects in the hood of your shiny black car.

Newsprint has never smiled back at him before. Tomorrow the paper boy will bend over backwards to deliver…

Headline- THE BOY I LOVE IS MY BACKBONE.

Details- But he is scoliotic & cripples me.

Front Page

[half-baked-poetry]

Love has a way of showing up uninvited… Sorry the house is a mess, but can I get you something to drink?

Knock knock

[half-baked-poetry]

I have short changed myself at the expense of a valuation by someone else.

Devaluation

[half-baked-poetry]

Cheers to who we are, darling. Cheers to why hedon & heathen sounds the same- seeking pleasure in suits & red dresses. We clink our wine glasses & I know you prefer champagne. But that's our little secret, ain't it?

Cheers to who we are, behind the masks; under the feathers... you tickle me, & everyone thinks I'm laughing because you're funny. But cheers, & cheers, & The Great Gatsby, & cheers, & you spill your drink on me just so we can go clean it up together.

Cheers to being wine-drunk. Or making wine-drunk decisions atleast. Or waking up the next day, lips stained red from last night's heat. Lipstick on your lips & lipstick on white sheets, & lipstick on my glass of white wine & lip stick as red as hell, & lips stuck together as we kiss & lips stuck together because we won't kiss & tell, & cheers to being drunk on wine, & cheers to being drunk on you.

& cheers, darling.

Mistress

[half-baked-poetry]

I have short changed myself at the expense of a valuation by someone else.

Devaluation

[half-baked-poetry]

Love has a way of showing up uninvited… Sorry the house is a mess, but can I get you something to drink?

Knock knock

[half-baked-poetry]

Tomorrow the paper boy will deliver dreamscapes on landscape porches- trembling with the birds but politely declining your cup of tea.

In today's news you forget to give him the tip- both monetary (which he also declines every time) & "don't stop giving off light."

Tomorrow the paper boy tosses two instead of one but tosses coins to toss paper...

Heads- he continues, tails- he stops...

Tails- he stops...

Heads- he loves me,

Tails- he loves me not.

Tomorrow the paper boy's smile reflects in the hood of your shiny black car.

Newsprint has never smiled back at him before. Tomorrow the paper boy will bend over backwards to deliver...

Headline- THE BOY I LOVE IS MY BACKBONE.

Details- But he is scoliotic & cripples me.

Front Page

[half-baked-poetry]

When you ask about the cuts in my soul, I want so badly to explain how you’re the first to notice them instead… When you ask about the cuts in my soul, I say, “When in war…” Except I’ve never been to war but everyone thinks this is how things are supposed to end… & so we crash & burn & fail each other all for drafts of a conclusion that neither of us wants to meet… All for drafts of a conclusion that does not exist outside of its intended purpose… All for drafts of a conclusion that we’ve laid open by existing … But I guess everything ends in war anyway… Whether it has been diffused or won…

When in war (via half-baked-poetry)

[half-baked-poetry]

Shedding skin renders a different kind of recovery. Like orange peels in a kitchen sink, Like leaving all your problems in boxes by the kerb. All fine until it becomes someone else's problem you know... Until someone who feels too vulnerable picks up my old habits to protect themselves... I don't know how to release my demons without them possessing someone else...

Rebirth