#hey mar

[tanktopdiaz]

my friend loud as fuck in a professional NBA stadium just now: BUCKS LIGHTNING WOMB??????

[ravireyes]

from @oflightfeet 

On the morning of Sunday February 14th, Wren leaves a neatly wrapped gift on Marcus and Ravi’s kitchen table. On top of it lies a handmade card, bought from a quaint store where upstarting artists can sell their prints, a linocut print of a sunflower ( as Ravi reminds Wren of the sun; burning, burning, burning, warm and fiery ). It reads as follows: 

Ravi —

My first gift is that I’ll be out of your hair all day. Please enjoy your time with Marcus and whoever else comes by. I’m sorry the party was a bust; hopefully the day of birthday itself is a little better.

I don’t think any gift could express the gratitude I hold for you, but I’m giving you this book because I think words are always a strong gift. Which coming from me might sound ironic, but I’m actually quite fond of the written word! It’s with the spoken word that I’m a little less fluent in, ha. 

I’ve left a few bookmarks for poems and lines I loved especially. I hope you can find some comfort in them. The bookmarks were made by the same artist who made the card, by the way. She’s not quite as big an artist as the ones who made the work hanging in your house, but I do love the prints.

Happy birthday, Ravi. I can’t wait for all the ones that’ll follow.

Love, Wren.

PS: If the dead are watching, I want them to see us writing, dancing, singing, painting. I want them to see that we still reach out to each other.

Once unwrapped, Ravi will find The War of the Foxes by Richard Siken, along with three handmade bookmarks. Opening the book to the first page, it says From Wren to Ravi, 14 February 2021.

[szlachtas]

[leopardprintpuss]

remembering when i gave my only ex a card that said he could never bug me and then broke up with him because i fundamentally didn’t like who he was as a person

[mor-beck-more-problems]

[pm] I found that envelope of money in my stuff. The one you said you'd bring to Marley? Please don't tell me you paid for that, Pen.

[pm] I was going to, I admit, but Marley refused my payment. She said she wouldn’t charge for a job half done.

[arrogantvampire-blog]

                ✿—; 

                          weave-your-sins is in the rose garden

"You look old... and like the undead."