hope

✿⁰the only hoax i believe in◕｡

[sunburntashes]

[sunburntashes]

[sunburntashes]

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terms and conditions applied

love is conditional

is it not?

my mother loves me as long as I'm her doll

her gudiya

as long as i have strings on my hands and a scarf shaped noose around my head that nods whenever she asks if i will do as she says

the strings on my hands don't listen to me, no;

they squeeze the lingering lethargy and grief out and say—work; your mother didn't raise you against all odds so you could be stay up nights wondering what's wrong with you

the blood in my veins is hers and i want to scrape it out

if that means i won't owe her my life

the life in my eyes is hers and she's already squeezing it out

because i owe her my life

i know the burden she carried all her life as a girl

because i carry it like a gift now

i carry it as the weight that won't let me soar to the sun, that keeps me afloat the water but threatens to drown me if i drift too far away from it

but ofcourse, a mother's love is unconditional;

...terms and conditions applied

[sunburntashes]

limerence of despair

letters I write to myself

are the small bouts of silence where I face Despair

Despair, she's a lovely person, always lingering around, keeping me company

she sings lovelorn songs at one a.m. so i can sleep better

she wakes me up alongside my alarm, hand brushing my hair back and lulling me back to sleep, don't leave, this is comfortable

she's too soft on me, she wants me to lie in bed all day and make daydreams of the future and the past and never leave the confines of thought

she tells me to drop everything and fall asleep, beckons me to lie in the deep throes of a well she claims is secret to everyone else

she smiles sweetly and leads me to the bottom, and she sits with me in the darkness

but Despair isn't my mother, and her love feels conditioned for as long as i'm only with her, and friends with no one else

well, lucky for her. . .

we'll sit in this deep, love-less sink for ever

[mournfulroses]

Martha Gellhorn, from a letter featured in The Selected Letters of Marth Gellhorn

[sunburntashes]

will this feeling never go away, ma?

of being told who I'm supposed to be

of being scared to step out of

my role of being the father's daughter,

of being a nice friend, a good girl?

will this feeling be there when I'm older, too?

of being too much and holding back

so after they all have their fills

i'm left with the bloody remains

left to fester, until they decide to visit again?

will this feeling stop only after I'm one

with the thing that crawls under my skin?

the thing that shows it's fangs

when i smile at myself in the mirror,

am i your monster, or are you mine?

does having this feeling make me

a survivor?

or does it make me more your daughter than father's, ma?

does it ever go away?

[sunburntashes]

you regret your childhood

little miss perfect

little miss burnt-out adult

you always wished to have long hair, you even had a wig

why do you keep cutting it all off?

you wanted the freedom;

but now that you've got it, why did you realise

that it wasn't freedom at all, only a different prison

you wanted the body like the girls on TV

why do you have to hide it now?

you regret your childhood

nights asking the ceiling

if they had to make me suffer, why did they have me?

if they have me, why do they want a son?

you had the biggest kitchen set collection

you were so proud of it.

why do you feel forced to play kitchen now?

you regret your childhood

the skeletons in your closet—your wig, your kitchen set, your femininity, they call for you

and ask you: if you had to make me suffer, why did you keep me?

if you kept me, why do you keep dreaming of another life?

[sunburntashes]

Hello, I am Tareq from Gaza Iam trying save my famliy from the genocide happening here. I ask for your help in spreading my story and donating if you can contribute anything, no matter how small.Please don,t forget to sharethe latest post from my page and follow my account to help spread the story to the world. Thank you.

donate if you can!! and please share

[sunburntashes]

intimacy —the kind that can't be produced

a shared song, even over distance

our hands crookedly clasped,

not intertwicining tongues, but silent eyes,

giddy kind of intimacy,

the kind that exists only at sunset,

when we're sitting under the blue-orange sky

the kind they can't show in movies

with dots and scratches and effortless effort

and poking your arm and tongue-tied-but-still-reaching for you,

saying stupid face and my love and ass and darling all in one petty poke of the tongue

the kind that's ours

[trans-ralsei]

[trans-ralsei]

[caughtthedarkness93]

I love my job, but reblogging employment jelly for someone else I love.

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home

home, divine home, sublime home,

"home, huh?" I mumble to myself

as i brush my teeth for the night

the irony of nobody being home. . .

I've always walked alone,

all the roads diverged in woods

and the thin lines of gray

i have an inkling of home,

perhaps home is

words unsaid, hands squeezed a bit tighter

eyes: a window of longing, smile love-bitten

vile, love smitten, bloody

i suppose it seems like a crime scene at times

my home is a crime scene, then

golden skin and golden earth

white muslin behind the blue wheel,

kesari, hari borders, bloody at the edges

i was told to call its name in the dark

that if i find it, i will find home

but all i found were bodies,

bodies drained of tricolour and of dignity

and in the darkness of my empty home

sometimes i see my own emptiness

trickling out like rancid blood

sleeping in until the day melts

all i can do in my divine home, sublime home,

is wonder if i brushed my teeth, "uh. . . ?"

-hope, 15/08/24

[sunburntashes]

take my hand, take my whole life, too

here, my lunae,

my celeste, take my liver

hold it in your palm,

eat it like a pomegranate,

or drop it in the river for the fishes.

i will walk bloody,

trail behind wherever you go,

can i, my lighthouse?

can i follow you, even bruised and bloody,

and in health, too?

my sea, i want to get lost in you

i'll drown, and die happier than I'd live

my garden, my sky, my poetry,

you are stronger than a wave that knocks me off, and prettier than any rain i have seen

you can scoop me up and drink me down,

or leave me for the flies

I'll follow you like a river follows the sea,

like a fallen star wishes to survive

my moon, i'll fly to you, too, if i can

you can have me as your twin or drop me back down,

and I'll shatter into a thousand pieces

all the pieces that would smile up at you everyday

but my love, my kindness, my fever dream,

you give me you, my veiled sunflower,

you hold my hand, you love me, too. . .

[sunburntashes]

lipstick or blood?

no matter, it's dried on your skin now

it's wedged in your nails,

the claw marks on her feathers

are they icarus' burns or telltale scars?

no matter, it's proclaimed as your sin now

her body is limp, yours is villainy incarnate

does the fire singe the skin or burn within?

no matter, the heart is black ash now

home is absent, like her breath

are you to repent now or rejoice?

no matter, the damage is done now

the wall is painted bloody, murder has befell

fate's braids are being strung or unravelled?

no matter, no matter . . . what does matter,

what should be noted, is that you've destroyed the thing you love yet again

[sunburntashes]

time and time again,

my ears ring like a siren

then, and once again,

i'll see spots in my vision and blink it away

rhyme and rhyme again,

this might end up being unremarkable

two sides of a crime again,

me and my fountainhead

ringing in my ears like a chime again,

a tall child again, having her mother dry her hair