Forever love, my wild heart.

“Love can be expressed in a myriad of different methods, but the most timeless and most treasured will always remain the classic love letter.” ― Auliq Ice

[casimeres--lair]

Sometimes I paint your words on my skin, Imagine you are saying them from deep within, Wander into the depths of my shower, And watch as the water descends, Let it strip away all my power, Waiting, just waiting, until it all ends. The swirling colours sliding down my thighs, Removing all your memories with my utter demise, Remember darling how sweet you cried? Feel me ache as much as you lied. KD

Some nights I drown myself in sorrow,  Linger in the bath until my limbs feel hollow,  Bask in its warmth and imagine your embrace,  Gentle hands in the water’s place,  Hum to myself your melodies for when I’d weep,  Lulling, and lulling me back to sleep.  How lonely your voice was as it chased away,  the vile haunting demons of yesterday.  I’ll only tarnish something pure as you.  I’d much rather vanish before I do.  CC

[khumeia]

His voice was a paintbrush upon a canvas, the first and most reverent of flourishes that touched the soul, engraving it with beauty - or perhaps, more delicately, with the promise of beauty.

excerpt from the first night // d.d. (via daphne-dyer)

[illuminosity]

[fermentingferns]

Rose petal fingers, & soft forest mouth. Feet, bare on cold cement. Eyes bleeding consciousness into the water. We falter, like moon before it hits planet. Wherever the dawn is, she is not thinking of us- & she won’t feel my skin separate from bone, as I crawl into your suprasternal notch. I did it for comfort; traded my torment for your succor. Your branching arms take me in; subsume me, quiet me- turn me snow-soft, without the quivering. I went from fetal position, with bent back fingernails (hairline fractures along every bone), to sunshine fasciitis. I want to swim backwards up your voice, & take it in my hands, like a (grounded) fledgling pardalote, & free it from its fugue state. I would give you the warmth from my own body. I would become permafrost for you.

-lynnea // reciprocal rescue

[andantegrazioso-deactivated2018]

Beauty in all stages of life | flowersfor_kate

[thewildhearts]

Prompts

The Wild Hearts is a network for those who have something to say to a love lost, or a love cherished. For those who are still in love with the art of a simple letter, turned into poetry or prose.

Paramount; the importance of a moment captured or lost in time.

Monsters & their makers; bound, chained and desperate for love.

Heavensent; litanies of lust.

Tag your work with #thewildheartsnet, so we can find it or submit your work directly.

[every-word-written]

But when we kiss, does it not feel like a thousand galaxies colliding?

@every-word-written (via every-word-written)

[girlbruised]

I want your fingers in my throat        when my body is begging for release;      to feel the desperation                   of a twitching hole         —fingers swallowed       by a mouth made for fucking;               abused,           because that’s                  the only way I know how. Pale thighs trembling       —parting for the sweetness,                            hoping for the dream.       Bone-shaking,              endless ardour on the hallowed cusp of death.

m.d.g / apothesis (via girlbruised)

[overturnedinkwell]

You swallow and I hear the crack - of waves breaking against rocks, of lightning splitting trees, of all my resolve splintering into a million tiny pieces. - You swallow and my mouth is dry - like sandstorm in Sahara, like shelter in monsoon season, like heat unfurling through every limb, every sinew, every cell. - You swallow and I am so, so thirsty. - You swallow and I wish I was tasting you.

Consume

[fermentingferns]

the mourning takes your face

in her hands like

sharp rain ripping the bark from

trees, like God took

the wings from the birds

mid-flight;

the breath stolen from

their hollow-boned

bodies as

they drop from the sky

the ache in

your heart is

s l o w i n g

its rhythm, making

the valves stick, not like sweet /

like

rotten / like decaying -

and I look at you, not like pity /

like pleading / like don’t

let go

lynnea // swallowing grief

[every-word-written]

But when we kiss, does it not feel like a thousand galaxies colliding?

@every-word-written (via every-word-written)

[girlbruised]

Let me press my sighs into your flesh; raw, tender - need burning holy, & dripping with love.

– m.d.g

[persephomia]

Pangaea,  © mia i. morgalla

@thewildhearts “an evening of remembrance”

[thewildhearts]

Calling all the romantic souls, lost to a sea of their own dreams. The wistful who long for a forgotten past or a future just past the reach of their fingertips. Poets, storytellers and dreamers alike...

We are looking for you.

This is a network for appreciating and celebrating words and we want to hear yours. There are no hoops to jump through, we just want to build a collection of moments, bound by the love of writing.

Tag your work with #thewildheartsnet or submit anything from a letter to future lover, or words from the tip of your tongue that you never said. We look forward to seeing your work.

[illuminosity]

[thewildhearts]

September’s Prompts

Forgotten love.

An evening of remembrance.

Caught in a moment.

Feel free to use any of these prompts or combine all three. It is entirely up to you. If you wish to submit anonymously, send an ask with your chosen pen name and it will be published. 

Make sure to tag with #thewildheartsnet so we can see your work, or simply tag us in the post.

[girlbruised]

Welcome to the rebirth of The Wild Hearts network. 

After three years at university, I am now able to re-open the network for submission and regular posts. This is more about celebrating the written word, as well as the work of others.

Keep posted for more news.