mostardentolivia

⪩༏⪨ poetry, art, music, and more! ⪩༏⪨

[mostardentolivia]

meet me!

the obligatory intro post lol

hi! I'm olivia! i post poetry and art! i love film and music and just honestly any forms of art. one of my favorite guilty pleasure movies is twilight (i definitely didn't have a phase...). I play bass. I love everything 1970s. new york is my favorite place on earth. I'm pretty new to writing poetry for fun (writing not for school) and I've drawn for as long as I can remember. Anyways. Welcome to my page! 🪐

also- click on my tag #oliviasposts to see only my original posts on my page!

[mostardentolivia]

12/18/25

Flat

Ceiling

Between here and There.

What's it like from above?

[angelicdewdrop]

[scribeherself]

I think our writing chooses us. It taps our shoulder at the most inconvenient times, in the shower, in line at the grocery store, right before sleep, and we just try to keep up.

[poetiics]

i linger

i linger

by doors

you won’t even

open

i look

through windows

you don’t even know of

there are a million things

i’ve done

that you wouldn’t do

even after thinking twice

there’s no comparing you

and me

i loved you

you loved, not me

but, that i loved you

it’s unfair to compare

everything i felt

and everything you

wanted to feel

i linger

in hallways

you won’t even

walk in

i’ve looked back

twice, thrice

i memorize the

sound of your footsteps

whenever you’re walking away

such tender flesh you buried your

dagger in

now, i ask

did you purposefully

try to miss

my heart?

[nixscriptum]

less of a poem, more of a reminder. ( ꨄ )

[theofficialastronomy101]

Dozens of gibbous shots stacked together to produce this beautiful 3D sphere look. 5000mp

Have fun and zoom in if you’re capable!

[intoodeepoceans]

Sleep - sleep I must sleep. I have promises to keep. So, I listen to my heart beat. and it - thumps slow - like this Still, I don't sleep. Alas, There is a crumb in my bedsheets.

[mostardentolivia]

a glimpse into my poetry writing process- I do everything on paper and it is very unorganized, but it works for me

[mostardentolivia]

Helm's Will

A man at sea is what I'll be,

So blind, I plunge headfirst;

A song of fleeting remedy,

Of whim forever cursed.

And once I, gasping, fin the spew,

She gives a moment's charm,

Then- gone, just bubbling, baneful blue;

I've nothing to disarm.

[nixscriptum]

[theinternetarchive]

house inspired knit designs from 'fassett's pattern library: over 190 creative knitwear designs,' kaffe fassett, 2003.

[tragoidi]

[theinternetarchive]

'splash of a drop' early animation of a drop of mercury, arthur mason worthington, british c. 1877-95.

[theinternetarchive]

california through the eyes of photographer wilson davis ellis, american c. 1940s-50s.

[mostardentolivia]

poem I wrote on a napkin while driving through hudson river valley in new york:

Fog atop the hills;

Wispy patches baptize

The woods in serenity.

The ghosts of autumn

Drift across mountains aflame.

Aflame, but at peace;

A fireplace gently tended to

In a library. The ghosts

Whisper through, eyeing

The titles on the

Shelves. Some

Pause for a

Moment

To

Flip through

A few pages,

But quickly

They continue

Their wandering.

[the-silent-poet]

.

Some say it’s the end when they see one of these,

Others may say a new beginning

But none say it’s nothing

You say you’re nothing

Yet, you are so much more than a simple sentence ending—

Which, in itself can be ever so complex

You meant the world to me

But you thought it only true at your last breath

Too late you thought as you drifted to that muffled space between

“too late”

It wasn’t too late…

Not until you gave up

So I can’t do the same

For, I don’t want it to be too late

Not yet

Not for those who believe they are just a sliver in my life

And to those “slivers”,

You all have been my best spaces in between

The ones that give me air in my lungs when I struggle to breathe

The ones who get me through the day

And the ones who don’t even know I care

You may always feel it’s too late

Until you reach the “.”

And then you know; it was never too late until now

But you are too far gone to remember

What led you here in the first place.

—TheSilentPoet