Discover Top Posts Tagged with #almosts

the sommelier of—

Part of Eve's Discussion by Marie Howe

It was like the moment when a bird decides not to eat from your hand, and flies, just before it flies, the moment rivers seem to still and stop because a storm is coming, but there is no storm, as when a hundred starling lift and bank together before they wheel and drop, very much like the moment, driving on bad ice, when it occurs to you your car could spin, just before it slowly begins to spin, like the moment just before you forgot what it was you were about to say, it was like that, and after that, it was still like that, only all the time.

#beautiful words #painful but beautiful #moments #life #almosts #anticipation #uncertainty #hesitation #spinning #out of control #marie howe #Part of Eve's Discussion #poetry #poem

#thebrandiblog #quotes #almosts #anne sexton

Poem, almosts.

TW: death, attempted murders.

An almost-death —

if speaking only of the flesh.

The dying minds outweigh numbers ad infinitum —

yet here we stand.

An almost-life —

it could have been,

but monsters chose beforehand

that we should suffer.

And so they made our destiny bleed.

An almost-body —

broken, yet glorious.

It fought endless battles,

somehow still breathes;

hurting, unable to walk,

but it exists.

An almost-nothing —

so many wished us gone,

so many prayers for our deaths.

Their fear became signals,

hard to decipher,

yet I still can sense...

An almost-murder —

and more attempts.

They wanted our mouths shut,

and almost succeeded;

but now one thing is certain:

they will never have another chance.

Finally, maybe,

broken mirrors will mend.

Finally, maybe,

we will rest.

And then,

we will make this hell end.

#poem #poetry #original poetry #original poem #dark poetry #poetryblr #dark poem #tw #almosts #The Almost Poem Challenge #survivor poetry #neurodivergent poetry #trauma poetry #writers and poets

You were yourself around me. You were the first time that someone spilled their mind and ranted about their life just for the sake of it. I loved listening to you. I don't think you understand how stupidly honourable it feels. I don't even know what to call it, what to call us. I take a picture with you and I fear that my desperation seeps through the cracks in my smile. I am afraid I might never see you again and I know we will never be the same again. There are sparkles on my hands.There are hearts in my eyes. I look at you like this, and how could you not know? How could you not know when I am bleeding with so much love for you? How could you not know that I love you?