#meriting

[slgraywords]

Your door is closed

[writetothemoon]

Write a realistic love poem, you suggested.

Okay. I can do that. Because I scrapped my idealistic, hopeful, bright sunlight gold love this year and traded it in for a deep blue that I know already will wane in your chest, but that I stare into anyway, as I sit here, in your navy sweatpants and sweatshirt that i stole from you the last time i spent the night

(I told you I’m a romantic and I wasn’t lying, I really am a sucker for it - but I’m a scientist too and the data I have is the truth I will hold to my chest in my sleep when I have the heat up too high all to myself, and what the spreadsheets say is there’s only so long I can make you believe you want the needy and dependent before you realize it ain’t cute )

and you tire of me the same way I have

You love that domestic shit, you teased me, and i rolled my eyes at you like I so often do, because yeah, honey, I’m an I - don’t - take - shit, foul-mouthed girl who also really just wants someone to whisper I love yous when they make me macaroni and cheese and tea, and I just want to wrap myself in someone and feel like I have a home in them

I roll my eyes and make you think its because i hate that i love it, walking around this apathetic city in your sweatpants like you own me and i own you but that feels fraudulent

Because here i am alone in my apartment after walking home and i know that i’m just wrapping yet another skin over myself, a skin of pretending like i feel like i belong somewhere, of being a someone to someone instead of the poser i usually feel like. Invisible to myself.

I am so many facades and twisted morphing layers of pretend i barely know which skin is surfacing today or yesterday - i don’t know if any of them are me, if all of them are, if who i am is lost somewhere so deeply inside all of this pretending to be fine, or if i’m just pulling more and more blankets and faces over myself because i know what is me is no longer here, but has escaped the stratosphere with the rest of helium in all its rarity, being stripped from earth as we hurtle through this galaxy because its particles are too insubstantial to be gravity-tied to this earth, let alone the shitty couch in my ground floor apartment

i am so many people that i cycle through and wear to protect myself, that i don’t know how you could say you love me

how can you say you’ll be here for me when even i don’t know where i am

[smartmyk-blog]

Where I'm I at?? #meriting #WMF #Forrest #SenecaPartners #TeamMiSa

[smartmyk-blog]

So 1st Time Doing 1 big mural Painting, Thanks To @winniemabasofoundation for this 1 big opportunity of Letting me Art this at the #meriting Children Home🇬🇧🇿🇦,. its 1 of my challenges I always wanted to Full fill in Art. thanks To the amazing Lisa Ashton for The support couldn't do it without you Dear😘, And All members at @winniemabasofoundation , As a team We all came up with this Amazing Mural painting o @nelson_mandela. Now y'all can Call me Mike The Artist, #mandela100 #Miketheartist #TeamMiSa , Check out my new Facebook page @MikeTheArtist where you can see more of my Artwork and be able to buy paintings, ❤🇬🇧🇿🇦

[lena-void]

I've got this really good(not really) idea for a story about an immortal girl but I've never been good at actually writing it out

[carmadipitious]

Throwback Thursdays #tbt

On Thursdays is when I miss you the most I drive by your old apartment, suddenly consumed with your thoughts The memories of lazy days and funny jokes flashing in my psyche But also thoughts of why you chose to move on without me I miss you the most on Thursdays With our jet packed weekends and jam-packed schedules, this was our carved out space And after a long day at work I so looked forward to seeing your face Each moment we spent together feeding my craze

I think about you the most on Thursdays Still filled with twinges of hope that things would’ve worked out differently That you hadn’t gotten so scared by your feelings towards me That you would’ve let yourself feel your emotions entirely

I drive by your old place and think about you sometimes But only on Thursdays and not as much otherwise Whereas before I couldn’t figure out how to stop the circus show Now I have to remember that I’ve mostly let you go

Until one day soon, the day will arrive When I won’t even remember that you used to hijack my mind The days and weeks and months washing you away … It’s Thursday. But now it’s just like any other day.

[wordsfromstardust-blog]

You are an empty hallway where paintings used to be, and it has me wondering, do all artists die this way?