mkaayxromae

[mkaayxromae]

“The artist painted murals on your claws. The musician used them to pluck a beautiful song. The storyteller shaped them into a perfect arch. And so I reached for you. And when you sank straight into my skin, I let you in. Now every night, I am pulling splinters. Dressing wounds that don’t stay closed. There’s no beauty in the bleeding. But no universe where I wouldn’t have reached for you. I needed to know.”

— Claws, V.P.

[mkaayxromae]

Inst @iammadisonli

[mkaayxromae]

I want to share the good moments,

and rejoice in the rare moments

where my heart is not shattering

and my mind is not racing,

with you.

I want to share the bad moments,

even the ones that churn my insides

and make me feel like broken glass

because that is where I pick myself up

and you are there to cheer me on.

I want to share even the mediocre moments

where even the slightest observation

of the tint to your hair

or how my heart sings

when I am by your side,

those are also happy melodies

when I’m with you.

[mkaayxromae]

change the politik to reflect who we are and the change we want to see in the world. make it look more like us— diverse. complicated. intricate. beautiful us. one group of people cannot possibly represent all of our needs. get out and vote. make them pay attention. make them realize this world belongs to you as much as it belongs to them and we will make room where there was none before.

[mkaayxromae]

[mkaayxromae]

You teach people how to treat you by what you allow, what you stop, and what you reinforce.

Tony Gaskins (via onlinecounsellingcollege)

[mkaayxromae]

I live in the streets. Stride with the crowd, sing the loneliness reflected in their eyes. Spend the day in coffee shops. Writing poems out of bottled teardrops. At night, I linger in the sidewalks to watch strangers exchange empty phrases. In between these sullen places,my heart yearns for a moment of escape. So I run. Run as fast as the wind. Back to the heart that housed me those long nights of weeping.

18:45

-a nomad in love, katie

[mkaayxromae]

unspoken verses

this silence that speaks silken soft tangible, like a chord between us it wraps around us in thick, dark coils stretching and turning drawing us closer and then, releasing us ever-so-gently into each other’s eyes.

these unsaid words that pour make poetry of our reverberating being from my tongue to yours into a kiss that makes us tremble more seduces and holds us captive in our imagination as we grow drunk on dawn verses.

© SoulReserve 2020

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I do not miss childhood, but I miss the way I took pleasure in small things, even as greater things crumbled. I could not control the world I was in, could not walk away from things or people or moments that hurt, but I took joy in the things that made me happy.

Neil Gaiman (via quotemadness)

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“There is no better time than the autumn to begin forgetting the things that trouble us, allowing them to fall away like dried leaves.”

— Paulo Coelho

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Sometimes, I forget that while on this journey through life, I'm allowed to rest. So, I stopped. Took a deep breath. Observed the atmosphere. Embraced what I was feeling. Appreciated the beautiful view and functioning things around me. Then, when I was ready...I began, again.

@kidgillis | Begin Again | #Poetry

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[mkaayxromae]

“To have been able to be your safe harbor, to have been able to keep you warm, to have been able to know you, to have been able to slow down time with you, and speak, and touch, if only for a limited amount of time, darling that was a privilege, and still, I keep memories of you warm, by the furnace in my heart, where they are untouchable by the outside world. I don’t speak about these things, I don’t speak about you, nor about how beautiful you were when you laughed at sunset, for these images are too sacred to exist as anything other than a secret shared between the two of us, and it is evidence of magic.”

— V.I.P.P.// softness; I hope you always smile so sweetly, and I hope that you never lose your childlike curiosity.

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Keep It Upstairs

If I keep it upstairs, there’s a chance I can make it. If I lock it up tight, I’ll survive. If I nail shut the door and ignore the whole floor, somehow maybe I can stay alive. Once I’ve trapped it, who knows what’ll happen? If it panics, everything may collapse. If it cries through the night, try hard as I might, slowly it’ll seep through the cracks. If it gets out how fast will it find me? If I hide will it follow my scent? If I face it directly, adjust myself correctly, can I somehow prevent full decent. -Christian Fett (@christian-fett) Follow for more original poetry. Click this poem to see more posts like it.

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Women of Amphissa - L. Alma-Tadema, 1887

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The Italian plaza, Ron Hicks

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every morning i wake up & get my coffee & i recite in my head this excerpt from ‘invitation,’ by mary oliver:  “it is a serious thing just to be alive on this fresh morning in the broken world.” & i just say it over & over again until it sticks to my mind for the rest of the day. it is a serious thing. i am alive. i am so lucky. this fresh morning i get the chance to live again & again & again