Water in the Bath

No title available
Sweet Seals For You, Always
noise dept.

oozey mess
No title available
Three Goblin Art
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
todays bird

Product Placement

⁂
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

JVL
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year

@theartofmadeline
Misplaced Lens Cap

JBB: An Artblog!
wallacepolsom
Xuebing Du
One Nice Bug Per Day

tannertan36

seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Venezuela

seen from United States

seen from Brazil
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Singapore

seen from Malaysia
@writingsbysam
Water in the Bath
Mercy, Mercy
The Blizzard of 2024
In the Before
St. George and the Lark
You'll find me wherever you seek, Down the stairs, through the hedge, Somewhere in your soul deep and bleak. And the lark will not sing. I crossed out your name, an ink streak, Crying last year’s champagne.
I was just a girl when I fell, huddling in the flare light, Tossed around in that stormy hell, and you saved me, you did, Those carnations I can still smell will haunt the rest of me.
Do you hear me still in the wind? Do I still have to prove, oh, that future you did abscind? Oh my casus belli, There is peace in those who have sinned, Black leaves my fingertips.
Music!
Hey guys! I don't know if anyone actually follows what I do on here, but I've been dealing with stuff (going to college etc) so I haven't been writing as much poetry. I've pretty much been writing music exclusively for the last couple months. I'm finally at a point where I like the demos so I'm sharing them here. I'll embed a couple of songs but most of them are on my SoundCloud!
Sam Much · Blond Superman (demo)
Fugitive
Asking for a Proof
A Turning Point
The Marathon
An Open Letter to the Box Under My Bed
February.
What’s the worst that can happen?
It’s what you ask when you kiss him the first time. You’re sixteen and in love with your best friend. He knows you, has known every piece of you but this. And when your lips finally meet in the glow of the TV screen, you are his, body and soul, forever. The air from his lungs fills yours.
March to November. You recite poetry to him while he sleeps on your chest. “L'eternelle chanson” always escapes from between the teeth. (“When you are old and I am old…” Will you remember my name?) You tell him of the dreams you have, the ones as clear as future memories. Picket fences and white sundresses, a love measured in decades.
“Young love takes faith.” (You will always be the person I adore.)
(There is that one dream, the one about twenty years from now, that you never get to tell. It was too soon, but not soon enough. That dream could’ve saved this, I know it.)
The months fly by.
December. He forgets your Christmas present and gives it to you in February, but it doesn’t matter. You give him the script he helped write and inspire, and some other assorted things. You create these worlds for him, and the desert looms over all of your sleepless nights. You would be happier there, alone together with the vast sky. The chihuahuan sun cracks your skin, but his fingertips soothe the burns. The script would go to plan.
At a year, February 12th, you have spent more than five percent of your lives together.
This March is the longest month by far, late rehearsals and early mornings. For his birthday you get him a stupid board game, per usual, and a handmade book of everything you’ve ever written him. Your first performance was that night, so you don’t think he ever read it. A shame, because he would’ve truly known how you felt.
The rings he made you stain your fingers green with verdigris.
April. Prom night. Promise night. Spring begins but so does winter. Your last kiss, April 21st. You didn’t think there would be a last kiss—
I have to stop writing this bit. I didn’t intend to cry today.
May, cold. Busy. Suddenly you are only just more than friends. You reach for his hand underneath the table and he takes it, but eventually he pulls away. Senior year ends. This love ends with it. It is too beautiful a day for this. The setting sun frames his curls in a halo. The golden clouds drift by. His feelings changed for the worse. You had fallen more in love with him every day. You would have never seen it coming. He’d been in love with you for years.
June. When he is nothing more than a box under your bed, he comes to your graduation party. He stays until 10:30 and plays games with you and your family. It’s like he never left, for one last day. Your friends ask if you got back together.
You say goodbye from across the room. These may be the last words you ever say to him. Words you thought you would never have to say.
(Some days, I still get up when the dogs bark, expecting his car to crest the hill.)
July, uneventful. You try to move on. You write your first record.
He haunts every melody.
August. Your twin sister leaves for school. You are alone really, without him. It was right person, wrong time. But you want to tell him that’s why you waited so long to kiss him, and this is how.
(I waited so long because I knew I would lose my best friend.)
This is the last thing you may ever write to him. He will never see it. An open letter to the love of your life.
An open letter to the box under your bed.
A sixteen year old asks, “what’s the worst that could happen?”
And soon you’re a grown woman, sitting in your underwear before your bedroom mirror,
hollow eyes searching your body for the place that finally made him walk away.
Sea Depths
Kitchen Ballad #1
A Question For the One Who Wrecked My Life (Nos Contra Mundum)
I'll tell you your secret
I made another uquiz , and I love it so you all get to see it, even though it's been in my drafts since March.
Athena Promachos
The Cycle