thriving in surviving

Twenty five and barely alive

[poeticjunkyard]

Let me undress your skin to see your wounds, and all the places that need my love the most, let me touch you with a love that reaches your bones and deciphers your pain, let me dive into the depth of your eyes to meet your soul, let me breathe the scent of your body to remember you as you are.

[poeticjunkyard]

"I'm waiting for you, I'm waiting for the evening calm, I'm waiting for our time, the oblique light, this pause between day and night. Peace will come, surely. But I can imagine no other peace than that of our two bodies bound together, of our gaze given over to each other - I have no other homeland but you."

-Albert Camus

[poeticjunkyard]

Why do some people, including myself, enjoy in certain novels, biographies, and historical works the representation of the "daily life" of an epoch, of a character? Why this curiosity about petty details: schedules, habits, meals, lodging, clothing, etc.? Is it the hallucinatory relish of "reality" (the very materiality of "that once existed")? And is it not the fantasy itself which invokes the "detail," the tiny private scene, in which I can easily take my place? Are there, in short, "minor hysterics" (these very readers) who receive bliss from a singular theater: not one of grandeur but one of mediocrity (might there not be dreams, fantasies of mediocrity)?

[poeticjunkyard]

[shutup-kay]

“ek shor hai mujhme,

jo khamosh bahut hai.”

[poeticjunkyard]

[poeticjunkyard]

I will teach my children that sadness is a garden, part of the house, the home we are building. We go there and sit down, first together, have talks. On some days we will eat there, take afternoon naps there, but we do not solely live or sleep in our garden. We sleep in our beds, still, the garden is there and if we tend to it, plant seeds, grow fruit and vegetables, we can live from our garden and grow big and strong from it. I will never tell my children not to be sad, or stop crying. Instead, I will teach them to go into the garden and tend to it, and there's a big chance the sun will be there, too.

[shutup-kay]

Gharwale kehte hai khate time baat ni karte or khud usi waqt kalesh kar dete hai.

[poeticjunkyard]

[movie-scenesx]

Palo Alto (2013)

[poeticjunkyard]

[poeticjunkyard]

I memorized how your lips form a heart when you smile to hide your pain, the way your eyelids slowly open and close as you get lost in your thoughts. You are a walking poem filled with the silence of sorrow and I have been willing to listen to you my entire life with full admiration for how calmly you breathe even though you break violently. I fell in love with the way you carry yourself without losing your tender heart.

-(unknown)

[oyeevarnika]

मेरे कमरे को सजाने की तमन्ना है तुम्हें

मेरे कमरे में किताबों के सिवा कुछ भी नहीं

- jaun eliya ki nazmon se

[artgalleryghost]

[oceansandkomorebi]

when your crush is so out of your league ki wo sapne mei bhi reject kar de 👽

[modern-wilde]

[poeticjunkyard]

I don't know what is it that I miss, do I miss being loved, or do I miss being in love. Did I love you for you or did I love you for me? Do I miss seeing your eyes or do I miss you seeing mine? I don't know if I miss holding you more, or being held. As I go over these things, I keep swinging between melancholy, selfishness, guilt and love, only to find some forgiveness for myself, forgiveness for the naive, the innocent, the ignorant parts of me which could've loved you a little more, loved you a little better.

-dustbinjournal (instagram)