#twcprose

[heartofmuse]

Truth is that the heart needs more forms of love from your partner than just romantic love. It needs the nurturing and unconditional love like the one that comes from a parent. It needs the love that helps you achieve your maximum potential, that empowers your virtues and is patient with your flaws like that of a teacher. It needs the love of a friend who will listen without judgment, who will laugh with you and be your confidant and accomplice. It needs the devoted love of a healer who will tend to your wounds and hurts and never turn a blind eye to your suffering but rather help the healing process knowing all the time the healing and the timing is all yours. Love is more than just romance and passion, and sooner or later it will die out if you do not nurture all the other faces of love. For if love has a thousand faces, how bland would it be if my love for you were the same one all the time. 

e.v.e.

[shellalana]

There she goes, they'll say, when I'm presented to the world in my final bed of roses and satin. There she goes with a whisper, without a shadow, without any trace left behind to say she was here. There she slips into the ether, like water through fingertips. But even that leaves a presence, a reminder that it was once there. But she... She will become nothing more than a memory, nothing more than a name that used to be uttered with disdain or love or hatred or apathy.

They will look upon me and say

There she goes. Farewell. So long. See you again never.

[almaaspoetry]

Love Left Behind

With tear-brimmed eyes,

I flick my hair away,

Tie it up in the exact way I hate.

I stare at my laptop.

Deadlines tick like bombs,

And I’m too numb to run.

Unable to keep my mind focused,

I open the notes app on my phone,

The keyboard feels like a stranger’s face,

I don’t know how to touch it.

A poet since the age of fourteen,

But the poet in me falls silent

when I need her the most.

A teardrop rolls down my cheek,

I try to write again.

Ten minutes pass.

I typed random phrases,

Then set the phone aside.

Five minutes later,

I open the app again.

Only to reread the few lines I’d typed:

“Why does silence always answer when I ask for love?”

“Was I written into this world only to witness love, not hold it?”

“Every breath feels borrowed from a life that’s not mine.

I close the app,

And run to a secluded place.

I try to pull air into my lungs,

Each breath feels like climbing a ladder

That keeps crumbling beneath me

Maybe love is a language

I was never taught to speak.

Maybe love will always be a fleeting touch and nothing that lingers.

Maybe love will never find me.

Maybe,

Some hearts are built more for aching than for being held.

[matthew-pasquarello]

"i sang a word of a song in front of people and even that was enough."

"you sing. and you don't pretend. you walk around hallways and stairs getting used to echoes without even knowing it, and you're scared to sing in front of anyone."

"i'm not a canary."

"well, no. they can sing but only to warn people of impending doom."

[asiwithercrumbleandfade]

The beginning

Remember, remember the fifth of May when we celebrated our freedom in confinement and tried to escape our house made of windows, just to end up trapped in the garden of Eden. Where we first met, all exposed, praying to some false God. Offering Them the bloodstain on your shirt and my dress woven from sunrays.

Weeks passed and that bloodstain grew, as did our companionship. My dress now more luminous than ever; your world rotating in my orbit. I was your sun in the mids of winter. But when autumn arrived your eyes like spring set my garden abloom.

And we buzzed like bumblebees in our little hive. Drunk on gooey sticky honey and hypnotised by the collective humms and drums of our beating wings. Unknowingly we capitulate to each others serpentine stings.

[kidgillis]

Elevators

I’ve never liked small spaces.

The constant ups and downs;

Being confined behind closed doors.

Waiting to arrive at destinations;

I’ve never been a fan of elevators.

Yet, here I am, patiently waiting;

Except this time,

I was intrigued by the ride.

Something changed when you stepped in

Before the doors closed;

[heightenedheartbreak]

“I suppose I love this life,

In spite of my clenched fist”

- (C.B.)

[nostalgicjoy]

dear past self,

Someday, you’re going to realize that not everything is linear. You can plan everything out in your head but life will always surprise you. I wish I can make you stop wishing for things you can’t control because time is fickle. At one point or another, you are going to be too late for that ride to somewhere brighter than here. You’re going to be lost somewhere in the overwhelming hours and days of the past, and you’re going to regret not doing enough for yourself. If today you are wide awake, don’t yearn for me. Don’t lose yourself trying to find me, circling around and around the silhouettes of faces you’ve discarded and faces you’ve hoped for. What I mean to say, my hands are not your hands, and I’m quite certain your lilac heart has a better chance blossoming into a bigger flowerbed for all the dreams and hopes we both have. That is to say, you have more rooms to grow and more spaces to fill with love and laughter and more days to arrive in places that matter. Someday, you’re going to open up and many things will pour in and maybe that scares you. And honestly, it should. But there will always be light. There will always be light.