#poetrycrew

[pleaseburnthisafteryoureadit]

suddenly its 4 o’clock in the morning and i realize that i never thought your memory would last this long. im trying my best not to find this poetic because i know that i cannot keep writing about all of the things i’ve left behind. but there is an emptiness here that i know was not here before & im starting to come to the realization that maybe i still want you here.

[frcyja-blog]

you can’t look me in the eye, i take sad pleasure in the fact.

your heart beats in my chest, my heart beast in the corner.

i want to be reacquainted with you And you say nothing, you sit

– skipped song sung wrong // a.s

[3oracle]

untitled love poem by brian james

[steebucks]

— I don’t think this is what love is supposed to become | a.h

[inkstained]

i. there is old blood crusting under your nails like rusting metal and you don’t know if it is yours or someone else’s but he looks at you like you are something holy and you forget about the sins crawling in your bones.

ii. he finds you in an overflowing bathtub - head between your knees, nails carving bloody moons into your skin; later you tell him yes, sometimes shower water against porcelain sounds like gunshots raining on your skin. 

iii.  your name is a whispered prayer that spills from his mouth and he repeats it over and over like a mantra; he breathes words you recognise from a dream and they condense in the frosty air between his lips and yours.

iv. he tells you that your bruises look like galaxies and holds you like the world has cheated him of you for far too long. tonight, you run out of names before he runs out of kisses.

v. hazy-gold sunlight sieves through the moth-eaten curtains and frames his face and you can’t stop holding his cheeks in your palms because he is here, he is here, he is here, and you’ve long grown tired of wondering why he hasn’t left yet.

 - homecoming pt.2 ( j )

[stardustminds]

do you see the ghosts, the empty husks of living things, searching like wolves for the ichor veins beneath the stone skin of our earth. they do not see you, the ghosts. they see another girl. but they do not smell the immortality you carry in your step. they do not sense the thrum of eternity in place of your blood.

wolf ghosts. | a.v

[frcyja-blog]

fear sits in your eyes like a cat basking in the sun swallowing heat, accumulating warmth, still, not yet sleeping

– how fear presents itself // 10.05.20

[frcyja-blog]

Tan stains my skin in a dark shape of the back of my hand, This is the manifestation of my grief. A blob of indeterminate shape, colour and origin, For an unfounded fear of something untouchable, forgotten

— JANUARY // as