playing with words

We are the ‘hello’ you didn’t send to your crush We are the poem you wrote for your dog or cat We are the ‘goodnight’ you didn’t send at 2 AM We are the letter your pen pal didn’t write We are the ‘I love you’ you never got to hear We are the book ideas that got lost in your mind We are lost words mayke/20/the netherlands/honestly, just a hopeless romantic who watched too many movies

[wearelostwords]

It's my 10 year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳

[wearelostwords]

"Ik zal eerlijk tegen je zijn"

En dat was de eerste leugen die je vertelde

[wearelostwords]

You're the unwritten chapter in the story that is my life

wearelostwords

[wearelostwords]

Elke winter denk ik dat de zomer nooit meer komt, en elke zomer weet ik dat de winter voor de deur staat. En zo is het ook op de goede en slechte dagen. Elke slechte dag staar ik doelloos voor mij uit, geen licht aan het einde van een donkere gang. Op de goede dagen weet ik dat de afgrond voor mij ligt.

[wearelostwords]

Ik raak verdwaald, verstrengeld in mijn gedachten, opgesloten in mijn eigen lichaam

Ik verstijf, ik beef, ik verlies mijn grip op de realiteit

Ik raak mij kwijt

[wearelostwords]

Alles valt uit elkaar en ik stort in

[wearelostwords]

En toch kom ik je elke keer weer tegen Niet alleen in mijn dromen, maar in de ogen van de vreemdeling op straat, in de manier waarop de buschauffeur knikt als wijze van begroeting Waar ik ook ga, ik herken je, ik hoor je naam, ik verlies mezelf in de woorden die in mijn geheugen dwalen, jouw zilveren tong die mij elke keer weer weet te verleiden

ik verlies mezelf in jou

[subtextures]

Right Here Where We Are

There are too many trees

in this forest for a trail

to easily follow home,

too many slavering wolves

to pay attention to the way.

Often, I tell stories without

telling stories as I teach.

Who has the time for hidden

messages? The metaphor’s too often

lost in the ubiquitous as it is .

Like now, one should mark this

turn on the path so we might

return again later as different

people who are no longer lost.

Of course, that would require

attention to where we are

now— accepting what’s here

as the only place to know,

and the only way we can be.

There is no one hiding

behind the trees, no fairies

dancing circles in the dark.

There are only our words

right here where we are.

(August 7, 2018)

[ragewrites]

an impression — the veiled face, caught in the silverglass for only a moment. what paradise it has seen, skin a length of silk dyed in slightest shade of cinnabar; a thousand ships would sail for such lips, dying gladly for having made her smile. the echo of it lies imprinted in the pearls of hydrargirum, a one-act tragedy. in another time, she pulled off the lace to the caress of a lover, leaning into him as he cupped the crescent of her jaw, content with the nearness and the night. the written story records something different, an ending drowned in tears.

  the story of a spinster   august 7th, 2018  / /  lianna schreiber (via ragewrites)

[saccharineandsalacious]

A handsome face and vibrant eyes will do more damage than you think.

[jazminspoetry]

So you leave me to diminish on my own

When you know I have no strength left in me

Every bit of power I had, I gave to you

So you leave me

You have taken what you came for I am empty

So you leave me

Because you have no use for me anymore

[perfectwords987]

Get Over You

There is definitely a way to get over you

Is it just something I haven’t found yet?

No doubt it’s simple, I’ll find it with ease

Way before I thought I would, but it’ll be a breeze

To get over you really won’t take much

Get my head sorted and on to new things

Over and out simple as that

You will be in the past before you even know it

[babymachiavelli]

i. endless

you were inevitable. somehow

in the depths of my being,

i knew. but there was distance

between us, fostered by fear

that made it easy to run,

up, up and away from you.

only learning later that it was less

like trying to conquer an uphill

mountain and more like trying to

trek up the slopes of a sand dune —

futile, endless,

inescapable.

[chucklingpecan]

Speaking in circles

the words whirl back

to the hub

[poet-hunter]

Honestly, fuck it. I’m done being sorry when I didn’t do anything wrong. I’m done apologizing to the villain. Nothing overrides the sadness in me like anger.

Turning the other cheek just gives them the opportunity to hit harder then cry when their knuckles turn red. It is not my job to hand them power on a silver platter and pray they don’t abuse it. Every archer needs a target, but it is not up to me to make sure they hit their mark.

[unkemptspleen]

“She is a remnant of another timeline, a memory of a dream. She followed you once before, protecting you only for the sake of her vengeance.” “And what was her vengeance for? Did you betray her too, my Lord?” “Often, I fear. So often we betray ourselves especially.”

Conversation from a fragment of a dream (via unkemptspleen)

[unkemptspleen]

In this place, dreams are the only truth. The Dead are not bound by the trappings of the real, of the present, of distinct and discrete; all that is past. Our angel dreamed of great injustice, and so here she found it. And yet only she could see, for the structure itself had crumbled long ago. And you, who have suffered so and come so far, what did you dream of? Salvation? Or revenge?

Conversation from a fragment of a dream (via unkemptspleen)