If poetry is your muse...

is this what it is, is this who we are? two souls in this universe, meant to be apart?

[reaching-verity]

The Young Man

Baseless arguements; How motorcars don't work on engines. Priceless explanations, On how Jesus is secretly Satan.

He talks of things he doesn't know. He thinks he has grown up. He spits 4 cusses in a row, Yet he thinks he's respectable.

Talks of ancient literature, 2 words he cannot spell. Jokes of 'pride' and womanhood, 2 words he is born to repel.

He is so brave; he is the victim. He is right, he's always right. He tries hard but cannot understand, This world of a woman's plight.

-from my pen Reaching Verity

[reaching-verity]

just me, tumblr and my coffee against the world

[academiaatitsfinest]

spilling water from my back,

you call and i come.

that exhausted walk to reach you

breathless and no i didn’t run

— Michelle Tea

[reaching-verity]

"and there was no room for her

in homes so hollow,

she only breathed her sighs

in the cornered crowds"

[nixscriptum]

[reaching-verity]

The Mosaic Floor- Ralph Heimans, 1995

Lies lies lies I lied but you'll never know I still have your pictures Tucked under my pillow

I still can't see a man Without picturing you Those dead eyes, Pink lips, Rough hands, How they moved.

Lies lies lies I lied but it'll never show I still play your voicenotes On days when I feel low

I still don't want affection From anybody but you Those soft words, Red hearts Missed calls On wary afternoons

Lies lies lies I lied with a choking throat I still wonder about that poem I wrote, on that silly little note

I still can't come to hate you Though I'm left here all alone With these exhausted eyes, A Twisted tongue, A Heavy heart, And strangers I call my own.

~Reaching Verity

[cudles]

[mmelete]

The Tumblr Experience

[reaching-verity]

tumblr makes me feel like im in a late 90s, early 2000s tv show when characters had character, a laptop, a caffeine addiction, messy hair, rain outside the window, late night realisations, bad chance at love, and a big city to call home.

[poetryarchived]

inspire a poet.

Mary Shelley kept her husband's heart wrapped in a poem and stashed in her desk,

Always close to her papers, close to her heart.

She would marvel at my tragic wonder,

Preserve it like tissue in wine, ink on paper.

If they were to examine my last heart beats,

they would track morse code spelling your name.

I love you in the way that would not thrill a poet,

but inspire one. after all, it inspired me.

- written march 8th, 2026

[sogentleandsohonest]

saw a grandma write in her notebook while sitting on her balcony. aspiring to become like her.

[threeamserif]

instagram | photos are my own, reblogs fine, do not repost/reuse

[achillesinhighheels]

[wifegideonnav]

reblog to give a vibrator to a historical woman of your choice

[worstgirlintheworld]

he had suchhh a way with words

[paper-wounds]

[mournfulroses]

Ada Limón, from "Against Breaking: On the Power of Poetry," originally published in April 2026