109moons
tropic of cancer
10K posts
fragile like a bomb
Don't wanna be here? Send us removal request.
109moons · 14 days ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
2K notes · View notes
109moons · 14 days ago
Text
american women your objective for the next four years is to make men miserable. exacerbate that male lonliness epidemic as much as you possibly can.
12K notes · View notes
109moons · 3 months ago
Text
i understand that what other people do with their bodies is none of my business. but my father is still alive because of an organ donor, and i just think it’s very, very weird when people get defensive over body parts they won’t even be using anymore.
19 notes · View notes
109moons · 4 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
Ada Limón, “To Be Made Whole”, On Being with Krista Tippett
30K notes · View notes
109moons · 7 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
5K notes · View notes
109moons · 7 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
Leila Chatti, “Tea”
33K notes · View notes
109moons · 7 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
rositooth
11K notes · View notes
109moons · 8 months ago
Text
Grief is weird. There is no more poetic way to say it. I believe that grief plants roots deep in a crevice in your abdomen and the tendrils grow into every surface of your life. Grief warps the mirror in front of you and puts dark colored glasses in front of your eyes. Grief is always in your peripheral vision. One minute you are staring at a computer screen at work, and you blink and catch a glimpse the corner of the sleeve of a button down shirt you recognize. You grow around the roots grief leaves. Grief makes room for you. Grief does not want to take over your life, it wants you to know it is there. Sometimes the roots grief takes, are the roots that hold you together. They say the ones we lose are never lost. I believe this in all of the small moments during the day that no one but you and your ghost can see. Today, I closed my eyes in the office, a space my Dad never occupied, and there he was. It was 2017. My Dad didn’t know he had cancer yet. I didn’t know my liver had already started failing. We had waited until the last minute to prep for Hurricane Irma and were walking around the Winn-Dixie in Lutz in a Hail Mary to find some water while laughing at the hysterical non-natives stocking up on toilet paper. It is a simple memory. I do not remember much of what we were talking about. I just recall so vividly turning to look over and up at my Father, and filling with absolute contentment. Nothing bad could happen from the hurricane. My Dad was there. We would play cards with flashlights on like we always did. He’d probably let me win at monopoly. That memory comes and goes in a flash, and I’m back at my desk - my Dad is still gone, and he was never able to see what I was making of my life now. The memory is a root. It keeps him here. Grief is the weight that holds the memories of our loved ones. Grief is the flowers blossoming on a tree. Maybe grief is a sparkling light in the night sky, or a rolling wave on your favorite beach. Grief is in motion and static. Grief is the greatest gift we can be given with our mortality.
7 notes · View notes
109moons · 8 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
Anthony Thomas Lombardi, from "self-portrait as murmuration"
12K notes · View notes
109moons · 8 months ago
Photo
Tumblr media
Louise Glück, from “Otis”, Poems 1962 - 2012
14K notes · View notes
109moons · 9 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Emily Dickinson, "If I can stop one heart from breaking" // Disney, Lilo and Stitch // Becks_RyLynn on ao3, "How the Light Gets In" // Jessica Darrow—Surface Pressure // The Hunger Games (2012) // The Other Boleyn Girl (2008) // Lin Manuel-Miranda—The Reynold's Pamphlet // @throwitinthelake 's tags on this post // @lucidloving // see 2
2K notes · View notes
109moons · 9 months ago
Text
eventually you realize you don’t want to die. you just don’t want to live the life you’re living. and slowly you try to create a life you want to live. just gotta start there.
302K notes · View notes
109moons · 9 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
Mary Oliver, from “Hum Hum”, A Thousand Mornings
74K notes · View notes
109moons · 10 months ago
Text
Thank god you are finally gone.
0 notes
109moons · 10 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
Kate Baer, from And Yet: Poems; “40”
[Text ID: “because sometimes it is easier to / write yourself out of the play / than to face another breakfast.”]
8K notes · View notes
109moons · 10 months ago
Photo
Tumblr media
Leila Chatti, Night Lament in Hergla 
5K notes · View notes
109moons · 10 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
Sylvia Plath, from The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath
17K notes · View notes