Honey Cove @honey-cove - Tumblr Blog

myfathersdaughter1

yourtryhard

weltenwellen

Aimee Seu, from "In Flux: 25"

cataclysmictide

Never Goes Away (But It All Works Out)

it'll all work out - phoebe bridgers/unknown/I get so jealous of euthanized dogs - June Gehringer /@lilyflxwers/it'll all work out - phoebe bridgers/unknown/unknown/it'll all work out - phoebe bridgers/ In a Dream You Saw a Way to Survive - Clementine von Radics/hold this - fortesa latifi/it'll all work out - phoebe bridges/stick season - noah kahan/faithful and virtuous night - louise gluck/ unknown/ unknown/ norwegian wood - haruki murakami/it'll all work out - phoebe bridgers

thoughtkick

“No, I’m not ok. But I haven’t been ok since I was 11, maybe 12. I am still here though. I’m still breathing. For me, sometimes, that will have to be enough.”

— Clementine von Radics

saltair-and-webweaves

and bless the daughter but fuck the family

it lingers for your whole life - katie maria/the sun is also a star - nicola yoon/the lost girls: a poetry collection on girlhood, grief, and growing up - lyra wren/crush - richard siken/unknown/on earth we're briefly gorgeous - ocean vuong/ @emmajadepaige/stick season - noah kahan/promises of gold - josé olivarez/matilda - harry styles/susan smith - wych elm/tangerine - nolune/#6 - aroara/right now - gracie abrams/love & a loaded gun - emily rose cole/someday I'll love - ocean vuong/ @parentless-suggestions/unknown/the burning - venetta octavia/you can love him but you can't keep him - @pencap/a poem from the adult daughter to the narcissistic mother: not your fault, not mine, just is - katherine fabrizio/courtney love prays to oregon - clementine von radics

terrorignitis

Juansen Dizon, i am the architect of my own destruction

feral-ballad

Joy Sullivan, from Instructions for Traveling West: Poems; “Instructions for Traveling West”

[Text ID: “you’re homesick / for all the lives / you’re not living.”]

heartcountry

had a dream where i was in the old house again. i was crying and crying lost in old grief and someone who loved me looked at me and said, “still? it was so long ago now, it’s like it never happened. you should be over it.” but i cried and cried anyway and then packed up the house for the hundredth time, but only in the way you do when you’re leaving for a little bit, leaving the big things behind. i left you behind. i left you behind and when i looked back you were somehow smaller and bigger than i remembered. you lifted your hand, maybe to wave at me but in that moment i woke up. i asked God right then to let us see each other soon and I know He will answer me the way that is best. until then, i am waving back at you, old friend. in many ways i wish we’d never grown up at all but i know it has to be this way. love you always, suspended between wherever you are now and where i am, in the land of the dreamless. if your haunting is all i’ll get from here on out, then i’m still pretty lucky.