Claire Keane

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
🪼

blake kathryn

JVL
hello vonnie
Mike Driver
AnasAbdin
noise dept.

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Sade Olutola
Keni
One Nice Bug Per Day
Show & Tell
Monterey Bay Aquarium
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
we're not kids anymore.
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

Andulka
DEAR READER
seen from Türkiye

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Spain
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from Malaysia

seen from Türkiye

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
@limerencewaiting234
Being trans is like being given a house that sucks. The pipes are leaky and the wallpaper is so ugly and the beds are lumpy and you feel uncomfortable every time you set foot in there.
Everyone else seems to really like their houses though, and you can’t see inside of them, so you just assume that you’re being weird.
And then you hear about the construction project that’s happening down the road. And you didn’t know that was an option. You can just…fix your house? It can be better? You don’t have to live with the horrible lighting and weird furniture?
But other people scoff at the construction. They complain about the noise. “Why can’t they just be happy? The plumbing is great and the furniture is so comfortable! Why would you change it? And why do we have to deal with all their issues anyways? They could just do it quietly, away from us!” And you thought everyone hated their houses, at least a little. And it’s so much work to renovate. It’s fine in your house. It sucks, but it’s fine.
Then one day you try putting up a new painting. Something small. Just for you. Just to try it. And it feels like you. It feels right. And you didn’t know anything felt that good, ever. So you start to do more. And more. And eventually you might even start construction. And it’s inconvenient, and loud, and people complain, but you didn’t know that it could feel good to go home.
And then, one day, your renovations are done. And you get to have a home like everyone else. And that joy you felt looking at that painting? It’s everywhere now. And it’s normal.
It’s hard to build the home for your soul all on your own. But it’s worth it. It’s so worth it
i would so go on a walk with you
i want to be killed by the waves as they wash over me.
The air from my lungs finding way and bubbling to the surface. returning back to land, where you’ll find me again.
Just a life form, becoming unrecognizable and beautiful. Like a breath exhaling out. A whisper I would tell you across the kitchen table, in a room full of no one. This was my greatest shame.
Arms taking form to push and move the water away. Chasing the next wave.
Pushing back on the broad to sit up right as our legs dangle and touch under the water.
I stare at the man across the room tears filling my eyes as his arms open wide, claming everything I hate, and all I wish I could be.
Getting a glimpse of a small red flare, now my eyes scan the room to reignite that feeling of wonder. Only to find that it was made up.
beautiful
forever a sativa diva
The woods where i evaporate.
@madonnapopstar12
pre-show pre-game
drunk hike
I like this
and I like that I like it
#ihatemyjob
You could never miss me with that gay shit.
8$ jeans in question
The sea or me?
the last droplet of the sea leaving your hair as you slide into your linen top
i loved seeing your hair dry as the sun reveals the brown
in our home rested on the sunlight counter was your 16 oz face wash
i leaned against the wall as you’d wash your face, eyes shut tight, eyebrows quarlled
your hairs always fell and i never hesitated to catch them
the floors to bed were creeky
they thought us trespassers to our own home
for this night i wanted such thoughts gone
the smell of oranges drying on the sea stained floor
ill covered by the kitchen towel
salt from the sea still in my ears, my fingernails
my breath was so clear
no word for months
my letters witnessing their contemplation
my sighs, tea stained
you used my computer to search for an address
never knew where you went, but you’d come back
i never pestered for information
was it the sea or me
i can’t stand scary movies and im learning that i don’t like lemon
our cusp of dawn phone calls
when the sky was nothing but blue
i can hear you walk down the hall
each arm with braclet
each leg with an anklet
the nausea of tomorrow stirring in my chest
the string from your dress loosely following behind you
scrubbing the floors
what’s the reason to lay salty and dry?
still as our bodies wrap and lock
she told me, love
whisper, only if softly
come to me once more my love
so many options at the buffet
in your letter you said you liked them best
but what exactly did you mean
i’m embarrassed to not have finished what i chose
does that say something about me in your astrology book?
to live but deny passion, your shame and mine
i’ll say it even if you don’t
somewhere in between death and life, we’re heaven
and you’d say it when i wouldn’t
heady, with whirring that filled my body
"I fear that I will remain like this.. staring at the things I love.. without touching them."