home.

tell me we’ll never get used to it

[thoughtkick]

“I am homesick for a place I am not sure even exists. One where my heart is full. My body loved. And my soul understood.”

— Melissa Cox

[perfectquote]

“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

[lecerise]

“And the moon’s a silver slipper It’s pouring champagne stars.”

Tom Waits

[sweetestsecrets]

“When is a monster not a monster? Oh, when you love it.”

— Caitlyn Siehl, Literary Sexts: A Collection of Short & Sexy Love Poems (via thelovejournals)

[redlipstickresurrected]

[holyisthenameofmyruthlessaxe]

“Last Body” by Mai Der Vang

[ID: I am the angel trapped inside the bullet. / I am the exit wound trapped inside the angel.]

[placidhousee]

© Peony Gent

[sweetestsecrets]

“There is more and more I tell no one, strangers nor loves. This slips into the heart without hurry, as if it had never been. And yet, among the trees, something has changed. Something looks back from the trees, and knows me for who I am.”

— Jane Hirshfield, closing lines to “Three Foxes by the Edge of the Field at Twilight” (via growing-orbits-blog)

[sweatermuppet]

from love as an act of merciful conquer by silas denver melvin

click for better quality (my instagram)

[tendermimi]

Mary Oliver, ‘north country’

[smallrebellions]

“Of course I’ll hurt you. Of course you’ll hurt me. Of course we will hurt each other. But this is the very condition of existence. To become spring, means accepting the risk of winter. To become presence, means accepting the risk of absence…”

— Antoine de Saint Exupéry, The Little Prince (via books-n-quotes)

[moonoftheuniverse]

“And I dream too much and I don’t write enough and I’m trying to find God everywhere.”

— Anis Mojgai, “For Those Who Can Ride in an Airplane For the First Time”

[hheininge-art]

“Romance of the Heavens” tobacco cards (c.1930’s)

[meanwhilepoetry]

Sadness knows my address

but joy is a passing stranger,

I can only say this in poems,

Anywhere else people will worry.

I have whispered more wounds

into the wind than I care to count.

On painful days, these wounds won’t let go.

The worst story I know is my heart.

The best story I know is my heart.

Both these things know how to exist together

in ways that I never thought I would learn.

This is a silent victory.

I never wanted a victory dipped in gold.

All I want is one day to write a poem

that is more than a litany of excuses

to survive another day.

One day I want to write a poem

that says, “I am alive.

I forgive myself.

And I love myself despite it all.”

- Nikita Gill, A Sad Girl’s Love Song

[lifeinpoetry]

Instead of Depression

try calling it hibernation. Imagine the darkness is a cave in which you will be nurtured by doing absolutely nothing. Hibernating animals don’t even dream. It’s okay if you can’t imagine spring. Sleep through the alarm of the world. Name your hopelessness a quiet hollow, a place you go to heal, a den you dug, Sweetheart, instead of a grave.

— Andrea Gibson, from You Better Be Lightning

[lifeinpoetry]

“My body takes on sadness the way lily pollen stains everything. / Accidentally, gently, permanently.”

— — Cynthia Miller, from Honorifics

[lifeinpoetry]

My friend wakes up at noon. Goes to bed at eight. Wants less time because she wants less pain.

I understand. I’ve been there too. I can spot a scar beneath a wristwatch from a hundred yards away.

And no, it is not the weak who try to clock out early. It’s people who are desperate to go home.

— Andrea Gibson, from “Time Piece,” You Better Be Lightning