la vie en prose

you were heartbreakingly tender. #inkedpoet

[veurona]

love letter

[veurona]

poem for april. i love you all very very very much

[inkedpoet]

maybe we exist to bleed / maybe we exist to burn.

excerpts from my diary, oh, but darling, who can say which?  (via inkedpoet)

[inkedpoet]

what do you want? i want to burn. i want to feel your mouth on mine, your shuddering hands tightening in my hair, pulling frantically at the fragile, willowy strands. i want to atone for your bloodstained lips, and the incarnadine red staining your teeth. i want to fall apart slowly and have you gently piecing me back together in a sweet unfocused dream, telling me promises you don’t intend to keep but are soothing nonetheless. i want to know the winter-whittled ache within my bones that eats me from the inside out, i want to reach in and hold onto it and never let go.

— LITTLE BY LITTLE | excerpt from thoughts in prose by inkedpoet

[veurona]

let spill the flowers, from my ribcage to your palms,  dusky, harrowed; holding the sun in their burning petals.

tenderness had never tasted so sweet | j.g

[veurona]

[inkedpoet]

☽ + he is light.

thank you, honey! i’ve posted your poem xxx

[inkedpoet]

i. carve yourself hollow, let your decaying organs spill out. fill your charred, empty lungs with honey-sweet desire instead.    ii. thread sunshine into his hair with your trembling fingertips. you know without a doubt that even if it tried, the whole universe could never capture all the light within him.   iii. you set the world on fire with your touch. watch him fall searching the abyss as you stand, with bones lying at your feet and a crown upon your head.   iv. don’t look away when he tumbles down towards earth, screams ripped from his throat raw, flames consuming his beating ash-torn wings.   v. remind yourself that it’s alright to burn a little, when he presses his lips to yours.

“he is light.” / prompt by @flowerwebs​

[mossyshadows]

Robert Frost in a letter to Louis Untermeyer

[inkedpoet]

you are every terror I’ve dreamed of.

excerpts from my diary, and every terror I haven’t

[inkedpoet]

the darkness fills me / i am sick of it / of things that take and take / and keep on taking

excerpts from my diary, things that devour

[inkedpoet]

just dropping in to say that your work is lovely!

thank you sweetheart!

[inkedpoet]

look, the blood staining your shoes, no—my blood, staining your shoes. you remember the taste of it, dripping from my apple-blossom lips, dark and red and sweet, like the ripe pomegranate juice you bought from the supermarket last week. you remember because it’s on your shoes and it’s on your hands and it’s in your mouth, and you remember because you want to, so badly, like how you dug your fingernails into my neck and bruised my mouth with yours.

this is how it ends. with words torn from our throats raw, with salt-soaked kisses and an ocean of goodbyes. with a touch, a brief glance, a dull ache tugging at our heartstrings, longing to be ignited once again. this is me, whispering shards of apologies all over you, begging forgiveness, for all the things i was, and all the things i was not.

[inkedpoet]

half-bitten, blood-soaked nails lips dripping with the remnants of a long forgotten promise. 

in this story, you aren’t the golden-haired boy with dreams whispered through a tight, red mouth, stars tucking themselves behind sea-blue eyes, hands full of flowers - my favourite kind; dark irises glittering in the daylight.

in this story, i am not just another body ripping itself open, fingertips searching for something that was never quite there.

[inkedpoet]

How about ‘honey?’ I’ve always thought that was a pretty word. Also you write gorgeously, I admire your talent 💕💖

you’re so lovely! here you go!!!

[inkedpoet]

honey, dictionary poem i. 

[inkedpoet]

by richard siken