oftentimes two guys who want to fuck each other not fucking each other is hotter than if they fucked each other

Origami Around
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
$LAYYYTER
Misplaced Lens Cap
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Jules of Nature

tannertan36
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
art blog(derogatory)
sheepfilms

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祝日 / Permanent Vacation

Love Begins

Kiana Khansmith
Xuebing Du
wallacepolsom
Keni

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trying on a metaphor
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@hannibalover222
oftentimes two guys who want to fuck each other not fucking each other is hotter than if they fucked each other
ultimately we all have to quit our jobs and walk into the sea
daughter (non-practicing)
sister (deadbeat)
Lauryn Hill reading the book “Letters to a Young Poet” by Rainer Maria Rilke, in Sister Act 2: Back in the Habit (1993) dir. Bill Duke
John Michael Carter (American b,1950), Summer Reading, 1986, Oil on linen
you can post on tumblr even when you're trying to take a break from social media it literally doesn't count. it's like pepsi max, or pescatarianism
i do everything with oranges except eat them. they say love is in the peeling, is in the separating of the segments, one by one / slow & wholesome day at a time. who will do that for me? with all the white bits still attached—i miss her, all too much, & still lie / awake for the feeding. a horse clips down the street & i have no apples. just a body full of warm milk laced with honey or something else that stings a little, with more sweetness than i can take. at least it's something / i have tried. i've known of people to not even do that. i give them their space. during which / a friend & i spend time together & afterwards, my calves ache for days. this is love, the good grit & dirt of it all. we have bananas & apricots & we know of each other's pain. lay on the bed together & after, still laugh the same. my mother was wrong about so much. still, i can't see that / oftentimes. i am on edge & i'm not sure why. i know i lie / awake for the feeding that will not come. see, both hunger & fullness make my stomach hurt. i don't talk about this—there are other fruits to peel—finally, i allow myself to feel the sticky innards—& / then rosemarie says she is sorry for the feeling of what might have happened to me, & that maybe next time i can look her in the eye. i tell her i'll try—i don't / & all gone is this hold of mine
— ‘(the) fruits’ – lahraeb munir
an edited version of the full poem achieved an honourable mention for the heidelberg author award 2025 🥹
Lahraeb Munir — Heidelberger Autor:innenpreis
just found out you can do more than one thing each day. i was just doing the one
OH OKAY......
guy who's having gauzy idealized wife flashbacks for the whole adventure but it turns out she isn't dead or anything he just really misses her and wants to get home
Lilies of the valley
✿ Print shop: INPRNT
It's kind of remarkable the lack of capacity or maybe just pure disinterest in reading the room wrt the imperial warfare going on in iran being juxtaposed with whitey on the moon again...like oh this is for all of humanity we love everyone kisses and hugs. girl shut the fuck up
"Fuel crisis! That WE started. Look at our rocket flying into space!"
Donna Tartt, from The Goldfinch (2013)
perfect poem