R.M.Y

this is a poetry blog. Some by me, some by others.

[kosmogrl]

something in me knows where I’m going something in me knows where I’m going something in me knows where I’m going something in me knows where I’m going

[justryingtovibe69]

[strangerconnection]

you know, i don't remember

[hyperculture]

OH OKAY......

[wovi]

*

the ladies’ home journal, sept 1948

[dyke-terra]

[fandom-trash-goblin]

we've got a life to love living.

[perfectfeelings]

“I don’t know what living a balanced life feels like. When I am sad, I don’t cry, I pour. When I am happy, I don’t smile, I glow. When I am angry, I don’t yell, I burn. The good thing about feeling in extremes, is when I love, I give them wings. But perhaps that isn’t such a good thing, cause they always tend to leave and you should see me, when my heart is broken. I don’t grieve, I shatter.”

— Rupi Kaur, Milk and Honey

[mournfulroses]

Sara Torres, from her novel titled "X Is Where I Am," orginally published in March 2026

[paper-wounds]

Fortesa Latifi, from The Truth About Grief.

[jamerasjournal]

I don’t want casual. I want you to eat me alive. No silverware. No napkins. No soft apologies for the mess.

I want to feel your hunger in the marrow of my bones. In the way your hands shake when they touch me. Like you’ve been starving in the dark for centuries. And I am the first taste of light.

Do not love me in halves. Do not sip me slow. I want to be devoured. Consumed whole until there is nothing left to second guess.

I want a love that carves its name into the backs of my ribs. So that I feel it every time I breathe.

Do not love me in whispers. Do not ration me like I am something you must conserve. I am not made for patience. Not built for slow burns or waiting games. Touch me like it is the last thing you will ever do. Kiss me like the world is ending. And you want my taste to be the last thing you remember.

I want reckless. I want ruin. The kind of passion that does not fit inside polite conversation. The kind that makes people uncomfortable.

I want you to worship. At the altar of my body. Press prayers into my skin with trembling hands. To hear my name spoken like gospel. Ache for me in rooms I am not in. I want my absence to feel like something missing from your bloodstream.

Don’t give me lukewarm touches and indifferent eyes. I want the fire. The fury. The all consuming. Take me whole. Taste every part of me and never look away.

I don’t want casual. I want you to eat me alive.

-jamera naquai, EAT ME ALIVE

[garlicbunny]

“ok lets do warm up sketch”

“oh..”

[wovi]

*

unknown / leah horlick, for your own good

[mournfulroses]

Sonya Vatomsky, from a poem titled "Spring Flowers," featured in Salt Is for Curing, publ. in 2015

[girlfictions]

Ada Limón, from Lies About Sea Creatures

[jordanbolton]

'16 Scenes of You and Your Dad in Cars' - Jordan Bolton

My first book ‘Blue Sky Through the Window of a Moving Car’ is out now! Get it here - https://smarturl.it/BlueSky

[16tinyfrogs]

on watching a parent age

i saw somebody say “what if you’re gone and i haven’t become anything yet” and basically that broke me on a random thursday evening