@warmhalo - Tumblr Blog

september

when my freckles fade in the winter the sun leaves through my skin (my eyes sink in) I think about the embroidered bible verses on her wall and place them alongside dusty portraits of my ancestors you see, I take a step forward every time I watch the sun come up and that may not be often but it’s enough to ink the sun back into me.

cold

#mine #nosebleedclub

I take a step forward with shaky knees.

Wait,

I take a step forward

it does not matter that my knees are shaking.

#personal

nosebleedclub

Discussion 5/27/16

1. fearless light 2. milk with ice 3. scuffed linoleum 4. clean teeth 5. brewed dandelions

warmhalo

1. one step closer. another. she stares into the scorching face of the sun.

2. my baby brother walks in his sleep sometimes. I help him stumble into a cold shower when his eyes are wide. His fuzzy pants cling to his frail bones and I watch as he becomes aware.

3. breathe, do you taste that? the chalk of sawdust settling on your tongue, the broken promises made at dawn. I sleep in this, I bathe in this, I become this.

4. my grandmother used to brush her teeth until her gums bled. When I asked her why, she told me that she tasted him in the crevices between her molars.

5. “but the sunrise still cries the same way”

#nosebleedclub #discussion #mine

boykeats

9 Lines About Either Romance Or Death (rough draft) by Keaton St. James

(patreon)

heartmailbox

cherry pits in june

i smiled my white-teeth-grin at the sun and really meant it. i was your dreamgirl, with my head in the oven and a mouthful of sylvia’s unfinished sentences. the air smelled like lavender.

summer sounds like drowning in the river, or kissing him under the highway with last night still on his breath. waking up every morning means that i still want to save myself- no matter how many times i’ve tried to claw my way out of my body.

i stay wide-eyed, but only because i cannot remember the last time i fell and did not bleed. he tells me not to be afraid, which is easy for him to say because his eyes have not seen the world when his entire mouth was a deathbed.

maybe she's too far to rest.

You don't ask why I'm here and I don't have an answer Our knees are touching and you tug at the fraying edges of the quilt your grandmother made I watch the sun spread honey across the sky and you watch me in the window's reflection The grandfather clock in your parents bedroom doesn't strike five as the sun reaches her throne but my alarm clock does and I wake up alone

86

#mine #nosebleedclub

wildfairy

DREAM GIRL couldn’t fit herself into the bloated dead girl’s body from your favorite movie. DREAM GIRL is more than a plot device to find out if you turn into the villain or stay the hero. DREAM GIRL realized long distance was never the problem. Even in the same town you still can’t hold a dream. DREAM GIRL doesn’t want you to remember her for hair dye bottles. DREAM GIRL isn’t weird for believing in things you don’t. DREAM GIRL fantasizes about the lead singer of your favorite band because he’s everything you wanted to be. DREAM GIRL is tired of her bad days being seen as catastrophic. DREAM GIRL doesn’t even like vintage. DREAM GIRL is more than a therapist, a puppet, an object. DREAM GIRL is tired of her emotions being made into the punchline. DREAM GIRL’s bad habits don’t look any better reflected on you. DREAM GIRL didn’t lose her home when you left. DREAM GIRL has taken an interest in saving herself, not the brooding counterpart. DREAM GIRL took you calling her realistically perfect as a compliment, thought she was finally becoming more GIRL than DREAM.

MANIC PIXIE DREAM GIRL BECOMES SELF-AWARE, angelea l. (via wildfairy)

darshanasuresh

last sunday...

…my lover & i kissed in a peach grove, & peach juice ran down our fingers.

…i didn’t know a word for sweetness that i haven’t overused, & i’m learning that this is okay, that this is good.

…poems without stanzas started getting suffocating, & i’m just now realising that sometimes space is –

….i wrote poetry because i’m really bad with words otherwise, & that is the greatest irony i can find today.

…the greatest irony was the fact that i was alive when it was the last thing i wanted.

…i started writing poetry again & you can thank her for this. when she kisses me, when she touches my cheeks (peach juice running down fingers), everything becomes a work of art. yes, even my poetry. yes, even my body. yes, even me.

darshana suresh

starrymar

honestly

bettersituation

teamcaptains-deactivated2019122

monastary

Two towns away, angels with dirty faces sit by the side of an empty highway and a serial killer runs the local video rental store. Two girls kiss by the side of the lake, honey lips and god tastes different on her mouth, less sacrifice and more reigning empire. Three houses down the mother chokes down a brilliant sound like lullabies and the brother mangles his hand on the death sentence written on the mirror. The sister catalogues each wounded bird she finds on her back doorstep. Knife as a crowbar prying out the ribs. Boy as cultish third party because he put his idealistic side to sleep. Girl as soft trauma in a psych ward slaughterhouse. Two towns away the power goes out and all the people sing.

pez-uzi-deactivated20160424

Places where reality is a bit altered:

• any target • churches in texas • abandoned 7/11’s • your bedroom at 5 am • hospitals at midnight • warehouses that smell like dust • lighthouses with lights that don’t work anymore • empty parking lots • ponds and lakes in suburban neighborhoods • rooftops in the early morning • inside a dark cabinet