#Poems of Paris

[creelarke]

He turned “babe I lost my ring” to a whole love poem 😭

[orpheuslament]

Paris, August 2024, Dante Émile

[learnelle]

On Sunday I got a copy of the Silent Patient from Shakespeare & Co. Despite it being incredibly touristic I actually really love coming here! People rarely spend a lot of time upstairs, so it’s always so nice to use the reading spaces to go through a quick poetry book or to do some journaling :-)

[sugawara--san]

me seeing all the romantic things happening at the paris olympics: what if that was [insert haikyuu ship]

[marimbles]

I know. (I feel much more than I speak.) I know you, you know. (I see you, sometimes, in the shape of my shadow, in the blacks of my eyes, in the darkest corners of my nightmares.)

She is. (She disappeared one day, but she was fading long before.) I won’t tell you that I never thought about it. (The promise used haunt me—a new reality, written to the shape of my dreams.) Of course I thought about it. (I still think about it, some days. The dream still makes me ache.)

But everything comes at a price. (The price is always blood, and that’s why we’re both bleeding.)

In order to bring our mother back, (She had green eyes, like ours.) someone else would have to lose theirs. (I like when people say I look like her. I like being like her, any way I can. Don’t you?) And that, I couldn’t wish on anyone. (We are the same weight, you and I. Both heavy with the ache of missing her.)

Me? I manage to go on living, (The ache will not die and neither will I. We’re a package deal now.) trying to be happy, (It’s harder than you think, and also easier. Smiles are born from such simple things—did you know?) as she wanted me to. (I think she’d be proud, if she were here. It makes me smile.)

I have my friends to comfort me. (On grayscale days they are the color. They paint me from the inside out.) I’m okay now. (I will be.) I’m as well as I can be, anyway. (It will get better. That’s what their colors tell me.)

It must be painful (I know the hurt.) for someone who doesn’t have any close friends, (I used to watch my window like a movie, looking out at the life I wish I had.) or anyone to comfort them. (The house was always cold. I’m shivering even now.)

(Someone like you, yes.) (Someone like me, not long ago.)

Only you can decide not to be alone. (If you reach out in the dark there will be hands to meet you.)

(I understand. I love you now.)

(Do you?)

[lanalove2012]

[katerinaaqu]

Sorry I just couldn't resist!!! 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Don't you tell me this wasn't perfect?! Hahaha like come on everyone thought of that! 😂 (inspiration from Paris The Musical song "Business" because I just heard that specific song for the lolz 😆)

[r-aindr0p]

More french shitpost scribbles

[llovelymoonn]

on november

nina maclaughlin the paris review: "on the first of november, the ghosts arrive" \\ emily dickinson in a letter to elizabeth holland (early nov, 1865) (via @flowerytale) \\ anna akhmatova rosary \\ philip jenks colony collapse metaphor: "november" \\ robert frost the complete poems: "my november guest" \\ ellis nightingale (@ellisnightingale) \\ @honeytuesday \\ nina maclaughlin the paris review: "the dark feels different in november" \\ l.m. montgomery anne of green gables \\ maggie stiefvater the scorpio races (via @metamorphesque) \\ sylvia plath the unabridged journals of sylvia plath (via @louisegluck)

kofi

[helenaredamancy]

august of another summer, and once again

the pond by mary oliver // nothing twice by wislawa szymborska // late august by margaret atwood // august by alex dimitrov // paradoxes and oxymorons by john ashbery // again august by haley mlotek //

[dalginbakislar]

🎧🪷🫶🏻

[snalsupremacy]

Illiad/war of Troy memes bc I gotta cope somehow

[nighttime-thoughts]

-Taylor swift

[katerinaaqu]

Diomedes Headcanon: Diomedes will have a light limp from one foot for the rest of his life as a reminiscent of the arrow that pierced it and pinned him to the ground when Paris shot him in the Iliad

[namedvesta]

[“𝐼’𝑚 𝑎𝑓𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑖𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑠𝑒𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢.”] ئەترسمبمرمونەتبینم

Carolyn Bessette and JFK Jr. in Paris, April 𝟣𝟫𝟫𝟨.

[bitesizedpoetry]