#wtrwrites

[starbabyradio]

hello I’m looking for some new writer friends!! I’d love to start like a little community/support system/etc for writers of poetry and short fiction. If anyone would be interested in becoming friends and writing together, pls like this or message me or anything!!

[schuylerpeck]

A black dress clings to her country road curves as if God Himself painted it on her skin the same way He paints sunsets. In any case, I don’t doubt it, she knows Him better than I do; bums Him a cigarette outside the diner, splits a stale slice of cake, red velvet. A cross around her neck, she wears black, in mourning, not in who she’s lost, but the waste of time.   I wait, watching if she’ll cry when he leaves and she doesn’t; doesn’t even stand at the door and watch the taillights disappear into the tree-line. She’s thigh-deep into a book, biting a ridge off the nail of her pinky, and if she’s trying to come off disinterested, it’s working. The love of her life leaves and she doesn’t flinch. “It’s not my regret to have, baby,” she replies when I ask, hours later, if she’ll be lonely, “I make a point not to miss anybody that won’t miss me.”

Schuyler Peck, (26/30 Lana del Rey-esque) LANA LOSES A LOVER

[hcneydew]

“Write something iridescent”

When the light comes through The wall of closed windows in my attic, When it passes through the thick air, Hot from our breath, from our friction, At sunset in the summer when it’s golden and At sunrise in the winter when it’s gray It hits your hair or your eyes, Your cheeks, your collar bones, the bridge Of your nose, as if the sun was built to illuminate The architecture that is your adams apple.

If I lay across your legs I can watch The moon cast shadows around your ribcage. The orange streetlights pretend They are the sun, and we feel warmer with them, And the blue glow from my fish tank Makes me feel like I am brushing my fingertips Across the lips of a being that is more than I am. But I guess you are that, aren’t you?

[drawn-down]

Once you stepped off the shore the dock was dragonfly land Flitting wings and blue and green distracting from the sheen of the water down below (I think they’re magic but no one else seems to understand)

And it was iridescent

[drawn-down]

Fist. full of gums and two parts red regret mixed with one part pride, the price of any blabbermouth’s first school-yard fight Fist. as a noun and fist as a verb. Can fist be a feeling? It can, i would know Fist. meets fist, meets face, mangled braces make for great stories but horrible tellings so why don’t you say it for me, come on you know the story Fist. no longer, they call me honey and baby and though i got my braces off long ago there’s no more to tell, i tell myself, their words say all you need to know (Fist used to fight for my words now it chokes, blocks them out; but where the hell else are my fists spposed to go?)

(Remember, girls can hit too)

[drawn-down]

-Are these weeds? -Maybe.. (i mean no) She pulls them anyway, says they need to go You always bet there was something crooked growing inside of me, and half-watching would always say, there’s nothing clean in there, prune it all Yet 10 second phone calls are all you can muster, can’t keep your cool for longer i wonder Have you never run barefoot in your perfect green grass or did your mother deny you that too (If anything’s grown crooked in me it’s because of you) -When will you do something with your life, become something? Anything! -I don’t know I want to ask, when will you stop cursing half my being, when will the hugs stop being a bluff? every day fake interested and each night fake goodnight kiss and i want to ask will i ever become enough? But you are betrayed by your cruel furnace breath on my cheek telling me lies and lies and one half truth I ask: -Will you ever reap this seed you have sown? (You pause as if you couldn’t care less) -Maybe… (i mean no)

In another life, my mother

[drawn-down]

Virgo’s bones aren’t frail, a predatory bird Say, a broken elbow (twice) and a wrist to complete the set Say, when your arm is reeforced fiberglass it’s easier to use to hit ~ For some reason its difficult to admit: I collect found bones and keep my baby teeth (even though they no longer fit)

[drawn-down]

mountain of my ribs mounting panic mounting snow mountain full of unsaid things grind my jaw, push it to go a storn born, blowing, twisting flurry billowing around crushing blizzard slowly building i cut through my ribs and throw it out

Winter without e