heart shaped bruise

◡∘◡∘◡∘◡∘◡∘◡∘୨♡୧∘◡∘◡∘◡∘◡∘◡∘◡ I used to have a name that looked like butterflies and hennessey

[raeb-log]

sunlight dappled over lud's church, i climb somehow & i don't feel alone if i don't think i am / pacing all over the roaches, august comes with the feeling of flies all over me / am i the fruit or the corpse? either way, i need to eat before i'm eaten, like ethel asks, am i making you feel sick? even in the darkness, a blinking light can save you. is that what your eyes are doing? is that why you keep them shut? it's why they have rocks against the stomach & i have my hands—my god, there is a sun in my mouth—in yellow, at the funeral of a baby. my god, the size of the casket. could fit in a lap, & then some.

— ‘untitled 04’ – lahraeb munir

[artificialsilkgirl]

[artificialsilkgirl]

[raeb-log]

the body does not know itself: it tries to be held in a hotel room, heat to heat. there is nothing there. i am doing something wrong, am / i doing something wrong? is this why / this tuesday was hard? again / i can't get out of my childhood room can't get out of the bed can't get out of the womb / is the first grave. all summer, i wake up with a gasp for air

— ‘manderley in july’ – lahraeb munir

[artificialsilkgirl]

[sadberryclub]

[artificialsilkgirl]

[raeb-log]

i call out for mother & in walks the knife. it breathes. i call for their god & down comes the guillotine. my / father faints. it / ruins me: this urge to press myself back into the earth, to be weeping— / —willowed back to god. to forget, i interlace the hand with the ribcage. the doctors don’t want me to do that again. i forget / that all my friends are a childhood away […]

– ‘from morton’ — lahraeb munir

[aneraofher]

[angelicdewdrop]

[lifeinpoetry]

i // am statuesque. no colour & grotesque. i am art, i tell myself. i am worthy to be looked at, especially this way. this is love. this is love. this is —

— Lahraeb Munir, from "mother medusa," published in Pigeon Publishing

[sequin-covered-swans]

[letsbelonelytogetherr]

— Sierra DeMulder, Today Means Amen

[lamignonette]

[petaltexturedskies]

Quiescent (n.) — a hush between heartbeats, the moment the wind stills and the earth sighs. Quiescent is the quiet presence of being—the softness of morning mist, the hush of twilight, the deep breath before something new begins. it is the kind of stillness that isn't empty, but full—of rest, of waiting, of quiet becoming.

[sequin-covered-swans]

[xoxomyah]