The Void Is Full

"What do you read, my lord?" "Words, words, words."

[thewordsyouneverunderstood]

I’ve become more of a landfill and less of a woman. I’ve become the place people visit when there is something too heavy for them to carry.

[misterracoon]

Draw a monster. Why is it a monster?

Daughter by Janice Lee (via misterracoon)

[lovelustquotes]

I’d cut my soul into a million different pieces just to form a constellation to light your way home. I’d write love poems to the parts of yourself you can’t stand. I’d stand in the shadows of your heart and tell you I’m not afraid of your dark.

Andrea Gibson (via lovelustquotes)

[stargazerinmoksha]

i found the time it takes to heal from heartbreak in the length of her smile

[starcalf-deactivated20160604]

I tried to love you, but you made me drown.

A ten word story on emptiness, 5/366

[letsttrythisagain]

Let start this over again,

take back the words shot out in a moment of doubt,

and let us erase the hands that moved to fast for the hearts that keep them trembling,

lets put our haste on hold and play the game the way its meant to be played,

lets follow the rules.

[tofillthegaps-blog]

I didn't know much about myself until she told me who she saw behind my eyes, and I realized exactly who I wasn't.

“Pretend You Know Me”

[mingdliu-deactivated20210422]

Closure mends, but it has to sting before it can heal.

Ming D. Liu, If I ever write a self-help book, this would be in it (via mingdliu)

[gold-cake]

[tofillthegaps-blog]

Do not fall in love with a poet. I will not pay you ballads for your time; My mind hardly ever thinks in rhyme. It took me ten minutes to find those lines. You can't write love letters and expect couplets in return. Nothing on this Earth has come in perfect pairs since the flood subsided and Noah tore down the ark. The world does not pound rhythms. I just know how to lie. But, oh God, then there are your eyes, like the lake under September moonbeams they shine through my skin and touch fire upon my bones. I love you. That much I know, but you'll never hear it in these poems. I can only write about hailstorms in May and you can't form hail into bouquets. Roses are red, violets are blue... that's as far as I can get because  I've seen flowers and I've seen your eyes and I know they're not the same. But your eyes aren't violet, your eyes aren't blue. They're luminescence held down. They're exploding like supernovas: Collapse into me. I'll be here with my metaphors and my inkless pen. These should have been love poems but all I can promise is that I'm here for the day you realize your hands are leaking poetry too.

“Do Not Fall In Love With A Poet”

[orlansky]

The scary thing about not knowing what to say is the uncertainty if your words have failed you again, or if this time, it’s finally your heart.

(via orlansky)

[lifeinpoetry]

…I am talking about evil. It blooms. It eats. It grins.

Anne Carson, from “The Fall of Rome: A Traveller’s Guide,” Glass, Irony, and God (via lifeinpoetry)

[teachingliteracy]

[wnq-writers]

No. No, you did not deserve that pain. Whatever reason you think you did, is a lie. It’s a lie from your past and anyone whoever harmed you. But I’m telling you the truth. You did not deserve it.

Amber (via wnq-writers)

[spiderword]

I have never been this little of a person. I have thrown so much of myself into academia only to get Cs, so much of myself into friends only to end up without any, so much of myself into love only to be alone, and now I’m here and I need to throw myself into living again. Except I can’t. Not this time. I’m tired. I’m hollow. I have nothing left to throw.

#105- excerpts from the book I’ll never write (via spiderword)

[lifeinpoetry]

already we mistrust wakefulness; if we are dreaming, then let us dream until our dream convinces us

Gabriela Mistral, from “Two Forgotten Ones,” Madwomen: The “Locas mujeres” Poems of Gabriela Mistral (via lifeinpoetry)