MADRIGAL

18• méxico • painter • writer? • entp • be gay do crime

[madrigal-is-a-mess]

Caída del muro de Berlín

[somos-deseos]

Pirlo

[ritikajyala]

I lost my best friend 3 years ago- not lost as in dead but lost as in we only text each other on our birthdays now. Movies and books don't tell you that a friendship dying is like the sinking of a ship, you try to get higher and higher and hold onto the rails and unanswered texts, the captain tries to steer it to safety and salvage pieces of two broken hearts until you're left with memories of what once was. We were friends for a decade and knew each other's diaries by heart, I still remember her phone number and the way she took her coffee. Seeing her in streets is like breathing in a scent you forgot you knew but it immediately takes you back to a summer in '07.

Movies and books also don't tell you that friendships don't just end after one fight or incident, it's like the rusting of a bridge, the slow decay of flesh and bones and secrets. It took weeks, months- until one day I woke up and I realized I hadn't thought of her in a while. And I wrote a poem that day and I titled it 'The dying of a best friend' and I put all my love for her in a tiny box with my half of the matching pendant of a dolphin we had and stored them in a corner of my heart under the heading Grief. Where else can one hide unspent love?

It's been 3 years since I lost my best friend, lost as in I still carry our secrets in a tiny box but we only text each other on our birthdays.

-Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The world is a sphere of ice and our hands are made of fire

Edit: here's the visualizer for this piece

[ancientsstudies]

Medusa and Perseus by Doc Zenith

[caughtinorbit]

Bitches be like “fuck school” and then do all of their schoolwork anyways because they’re terrified of failure.

It’s me. I’m bitches

[madrigal-is-a-mess]

Cafeína (26 mar. 21)

No sé porque sigo esperando recibir un sabor dulce, cuando mi café ni siquiera tiene azúcar, tal vez me dejo llevar por su olor, dejo que me seduzca haciéndome creer que cuando lo pruebe, este me recibirá con la misma calidez de su aroma, mas no es así, al posar mi boca sobre la taza un sabor amargo choca contra mi lengua dejando una sensación fría, pasa por mi boca hasta mi garganta y ahí se pierde hasta el fondo, aunque el café se haya ido el sabor persiste, mi boca se siente amarga y un tanto seca, esa desagradable sensación persiste y me hace querer más.

¿Por qué insisto en beber más cuando sé que sabe mal? Me engaño al creer que con cada sorbo que doy el sabor mejorara, pero no es así, el sabor no camia, solo entumece, bebo y bebo hasta dejar la taza vacía, justo cuando comienzo a tomarle sabor me doy cuenta de que se ha terminado, observo con melancolía el fondo de la taza, el café ha dejado pequeños rastros de su existencia, sin embargo, no logro encontrarlo, es extraño como su sabor sórdido se volvió adictivo y sin darme cuenta ya estaba necesitando de él, comenzó como una dulce experiencia, una dulce ilusión, pero esa suavidad aparente no era mas que una mentira, una mentira que me creí y termino volviéndose verdad.

[madrigal-is-a-mess]

Sweater weather

[madrigal-is-a-mess]

[madrigal-is-a-mess]

[madrigal-is-a-mess]

“Things have a life of their own. It’s simply a matter of waking up their souls.”

- Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

[relatablepoetryandquotes]

“To be left alone is the most precious thing one can ask of the modern world.” - Anthony Burgess, Homage to Qwert Yuiop

[madrigal-is-a-mess]

just art without context...

[madrigal-is-a-mess]

The soul, is and becomes what it remembers...

[madrigal-is-a-mess]

icarus, he flew towards the sun and it melted the wings off his back and icarus fell––fell towards the sea and away from the sun which he loved...

[wonderful-prompts]

Prompt #835

Your tears have dried. Your chest is filled with an aching something-ness while your brain is a pit of nothingness that can’t tell you exactly what it is you’re feeling anymore. But it is dark. And you will need to sleep soon.

[madrigal-is-a-mess]

“I like people too much or not at all. I’ve got to go down deep, to fall into people, to really know them.”

- Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

[madrigal-is-a-mess]