#spiled words

[hellocrame]

Everyone needs someone, whether it's a family member, a friend, or a partner. It makes life worth living. I hope you find yours.

[eternlsummer]

[melodiesandwords]

To sum it up

Sum it all in the most ironical dichotomy I've ever written.

"How convenient, I love you but desire another."

En Elleuillant la Marguerite, 1956

[ginadope]

I held a knife against my skin To prove that I'm paying For the eighth sin: Catching a glimpse of truth When my mind earned some colours of reality The tears collected from grief Will not do with shame So I'd gladly retell The story behind the blade At least I know what it brings

[torn--paqes]

habitual

missing you has become a habit

i hate myself for not letting go

you still manage to have a hold on me

half a year has passed since you left me

broken and alone, no reason why

i used to hurt myself with metal

but now it's just with thoughts

i wonder if you still think of me

because i do miss you a lot

[thewritingrunner]

What is My Grief?

A cloud,

Growing, shrinking

Never far away.

A heavy, black cloud

Blocking out the light

The stars

Following me

Like every

Short silver-haired woman

Who gives me pause,

Makes me look twice.

I stumble into a puddle.

—When did it start raining and when will it ever stop?—

Puddles are so much deeper than they look.

Because it was never just a puddle, was it?

It’s an ocean.

Swimming in mud, drowning in grief

Memories cling like sand or dirt,

Sticking everywhere and

In my mouth.

It tastes like Mama’s cookies, Grandma’s dumplings, Nanny’s potatoes.

My God, what I’d give for a taste.

Water up my nose,

But it smells like

Tabu perfume,

Once such a welcome scent

Worn for bringing home groceries and a Happy Meal,

Now sickly sweet, suffocating.

I try to keep my head above water,

Listen to the calming waves, but

All I hear is the

Incessant fucking beeping

Of all those hospital machines.

Will it ever stop?

But then it does,

And the lethal silence is so,

So much worse.

Because then comes

The racing tears

And ragged breathing.

Heartbreak in every breath I take

That she doesn’t

Because heaven forbid

I forget that my lungs work

When hers quit.

This is the grief of chest-aching pain,

Of hyperventilation

That brings the dogs nearby.

My angel dog and the four-month-old puppy

Who was left to grow up

Without my mama for going on

Three years.

This grief is in every butterfly, rose, and red bird

I see.

It’s everywhere, everything.

-my therapy homework for the week to describe my grief.

[chuckakot]

The world did not intend, to make you move, but to stand up, and close your eyes, and kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, like there is no other; for this is all about you, to seize the moment and melt together, or catch it personified between us; take it as my way of loving you, for what is this, without bearing all the effort, for what is this, without slicing the orange in half, if nothing is truly felt deeply and submissively.

Chuck Akot, profondamente e sottomesso

[obfuscxte]

she is not a regular girl

who is absolutely predictable

for her existence is inherently chaotic

and unknowable.

she will pour her heart out to you

if you can replenish

a thousand flower petals

landing around your feet;

she has a mind so sharp

it could slice open your heart

with only a few words

she would dare to speak.

M | 316

Visual: Lucy (2014) dir. Luc Besson