
⁂

No title available

titsay

roma★
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
NASA
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

No title available

if i look back, i am lost
Show & Tell
Acquired Stardust
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
No title available
sheepfilms

Love Begins

Kaledo Art
occasionally subtle
Sweet Seals For You, Always
YOU ARE THE REASON

Discoholic 🪩
seen from India

seen from United Kingdom

seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from Brazil

seen from United States
seen from Taiwan

seen from Brazil
seen from Bangladesh

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Japan

seen from India

seen from Singapore

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from India
seen from United States
seen from Chile
@words-i-think
There's a natural process that occurs when enough humans rub a statue.
There's a statue of a dog - its nose and fur turned gold from the love of strangers.
I think about how humans affect the world - the way our skin releases the right combination of chemicals to change a dull metal into a striking spot of fluorescence.
I like to imagine its like that when we love someone. That we have the right chemicals in us to show their brilliance.
Only I think my chemicals are unbalanced.
Too corrosive.
Too intense.
I tarnish what I touch.
Irreparable.
It's better I admire from distance.
Giving up means letting go.
Letting go has always been the hardest thing to do.
I’m told that love at first sight is a giddy rush, butterflies fill your stomach, a nervous feeling floods your system.
But when I first spoke with you, I felt no worry. My shoulders came down from where they were hunched, my leg slowed its anxious, rhythmic bounce, my words didn’t catch in my throat.
My heart had been beating too fast up til that moment and when it was finally next to yours it became as it should.
Steady.
Confident.
Calm.
You have such a kindness for strangers.
Such sympathy for their flaws.
But for me, no soft looks or favor.
Just deep slashings from your claws.
I am not the prodigal son
Nor the favored son
Nor a son
Nor a daughter
I am deemed the enemy by my blood
And I am deemed salvageable by God’s word
But I am loved by the Devil and his sinners
I want to fall apart but it’s 6am in Arizona
I want to cry to wind but it’s 50 degrees in Arizona
I want to wrap myself in sorrow and rip my skin but it’s going to be sunny in Arizona
Dear Summer,
You are heat, and blood, and violence.
You are every bold action
And every blazing color.
You smell metallic and salty like sweat.
You are the actions that Fall regrets,
And you are the dreams Spring keeps.
You are energy that Winter stores.
How brash and brazen you feel.
How killer are your instincts.
How murderous your intent.
Oh Summer, I fear your dawning and rejoice your death.
You’ve rewritten me…
You are the only person who I would allow to cut me.
You would brandish your dagger, clean and sharp.
You would slice from my chest to my naval.
Reach inside the wound so uncaringly and rip the intestines from their home.
You would lay out the gore for all to see. The blood pooling and staining the soil.
And I would let you.
My arms would be open so your attack may cleanly hit.
I would hold myself still as you sliced deeply into me.
And I would guide your hand as you pulled out my innards.
I wouldn’t dare attempt to close the wound as my blood fertilized the ground beneath us.
I would simply stare at you, at the mess you made, and fall deeper in love.
I trust your actions have a just intent.
I trust your ugly, brutish tearing of my insides were with the purpose of pulling out some invisible sickness that was rooted in me.
I trust you will stitch me back together.
You will nurse me.
You will tend to me.
You will love me.
And with that soil, fertilized by my blood brought by your hand, we will grow a garden.
That we tend to together.
And trust that we have birthed something beautiful.
I don’t hear many people described as kind anymore…
Maybe it’s fallen out of our vocabulary as we search for ourselves.
Maybe kindness was a luxury.
Maybe generosity only comes with the good times.
Truly I don’t have bandwidth to be kind.
(Maybe that’s a lie.)
It might just be I’m in my own head too much to notice others. To stop and reach out a hand.
… still maybe I’ll practice kindness so that our future generations won’t think that they discovered it.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
It’s not a statement-
it’s a prayer.
I wish I was better.
I wish I could put my wanton desires aside.
I wish I could pull myself from this horrid life I lead.
I wish I could make my actions with reason.
I wish I could change the memories that put me here.
I wish I could rip away the atoms in my skin.
I wish for a lot of things I guess.
I wish I could be better.
I wish I could be better for you.
But I am not.
So please don’t make it any worse.
Intoxicated again.
Never enough for it to be a problem.
I just wish it was a problem.
I can walk down the street alone.
I can hold my head high.
I can puff my chest and take strong strides.
But it’s all false without you by my side.
I miss your hand when it isn’t in mine.
I don’t *need* you
But god is it easier when you’re there.
“Do you have to go?”
I can’t stay.
Not like this.
Not when my dad is dead and my tea is cold.
Did Atlas ever get used to the weight of the world?
Did he find it comforting as it rested on his shoulders?
Did it calm his fears as it crushed his chest?
Did the steady movement, like breathing, make him think it was worth the weight?
Did the strong beating of his heart let him ignore the pain?
Did his love of the world make it bearable?
Will I ever get used to the weight of you?