#illustrans

[hollisartsblog]

Finally catching up and watching season 2, have some jinx ;)

[xs1344]

[almaaspoetry]

In English we say, "I miss you," but in poetry we say, "Your absence is a hollow ache, a silent echo that reverberates through my days and nights."

I walk through the spaces we once shared, and the world seems dimmer, the colors muted. The laughter that once filled the air is now a distant memory, a ghostly whisper that lingers at the edge of my consciousness. The scent of your presence still haunts the rooms, a lingering trace that clings to the corners, refusing to be forgotten.

The days stretch long and empty, each moment a reminder of your absence. The sun rises and sets, casting long shadows that stretch across the floor, mimicking the void within me. The stars at night seem dimmer, their light no longer enough to chase away the darkness that has settled in my heart.

I find myself searching for you in the little things: in the way the wind rustles the leaves, in the quiet moments of dawn, in the fleeting smiles of strangers. Each reminder a bittersweet pang, a reminder of what was and what is no longer.

Your absence is a melody that plays softly in the background of my life, a tune that I cannot escape. It is the silence that follows a symphony, the quiet that lingers after the music has stopped. It is a weight that I carry with me, a part of me that is missing, a piece of my soul that is incomplete.

In poetry, I say, "You are the unspoken verse, the missing line in my song, the empty space in my heart that only you can fill."

[kiramalibu]

how lucky are we to know

the universe in the ways that we do,

through both rainbows and tragedies

we all sleep under the same moon

i don’t know anyone else

in the way that i knew you

and you know that it’s true

my heartbreaks are the only

things that i refuse to cover

how lucky are we, my former lover?

we both had each other to discover

in a universe that feels hard to recover from

kira malibu

[ad-venturism]

Dust

There are cracks everywhere. Cracked paint from the temblors, cracked lips from the heat, the dryness. Cracks in the window kept shut against the exhaust, the dust accumulating in a thin invisible film that becomes a gray fur upon touch. It lodges, it piles, it burrows. Everything turns to dust.

[mellblogss]

If you can't handle me then you can't have me

[madmansmisc]

A serpent’s egg forever unhatching 

Prey and predator, a ticking time bomb 

Weak, you’re weak, a sin without strength

Does Eden feel like Gaia, if it lives it can hurt 

A generous man-god, sharing a pain

Known unknown classified unsecret hidden

[salparadisewasmyfather]

Aerosol

I feel like runnings all i do

Early morning

Tie my shoes

Step out and

Run

Like I know what is following me

Like I know what it's done to me

It's looking for me not just

Someone

When running

I don't look at the way

I can't risk a delay

I run straight ahead

Run till I'm dead or

Until I'm ahead

And I don't feel like I got a say

I just have to choose what way

To go and lay it out

Go or stay

When the ground is good there

Is no ground where

Ground was there is clouds

I can see from above but not

Ahead

Before long I will be dead

But I can't know

And it goes along like so

You put the leash right on the cow

And ride her like a bull

[a-j-s-the-only]

something is wrong with me and I don’t know how to fix it

[getcareless]

You Send Me

You send me chills. You send me shivers. To all the hills and all the rivers, you sent me. I'm full of flowers. How do I return from puzzles? Your words send me falling to my knees. Now just in case libraries die; I printed screenshots of the memories you sent me.

JEP

[soulfulreverie]

1. Have you looked at the back of the polaroid pictures they took of us? I scribbled some sweet remarks in there. I'm guessing you don't even check them anymore. What on earth was I thinking? [delete] 2. Look, I miss you. I hope it is as simple as that. [delete] 3. It hurts me that you passed up on the possibility of me having to come home to you after a terrible day at work, or the chance to have your arms around me and to wake up with you next to me. It's a shame you took that away from us. It's a shame you never even tried. [delete] 4. The books I read lately makes me feel like I should cut you off. We've only had this toxic, never ending cycle of you and me and our stupidity and having rebound relationships but we can't even talk about what we feel to each other. [delete] 5. Just...can you just let me know if you're at least happy? [delete] 6. Can I call you? I just wanted to hear your voice. [delete] 7. I never planned on loving you this much. [delete] 8. I'm not drunk. I only had a couple glasses of wine. No, scratch that. I had a whole bottle. Where are you? Call me. [delete] 9. Did her kisses felt divine like mine? [delete]

s.a., Texts I (almost) Sent You pt. 5

[4sss]

So we've gone around again. Managed another spin. Stumbled when dizzy. Still made moments dancing. Surviving sometimes thriving. Daring to go around again.

[xs1344]

[almaaspoetry]

I’ve always been the poet, never the poem. The one who spins love into stanzas and sorrow into syllables, yet never feels them for myself. I write others into existence- let them dance across pages, their stories vivid, their hearts laid bare. But me? I stay in the shadows, behind the ink, behind the words.

What would it be like, I wonder, to be the one someone can’t put down? To be whispered between lips, felt in the quiet moments? To be read, to be seen? For once, to be the poem instead of the hand that writes it.

[kiramalibu]

i cried for my mother several

times this week

around five to be exact

nothing depresses me like her,

her entire existence makes me sad

and knowing i resemble her

used to make me feel bad

embracing our mutual features

now riddles me with guilt

they say high temperatures

cause flowers to wilt

and my mother never had the

opportunity to blossom

i’d be at war with me too,

if i was my daughter

her petals have always been under-watered

no wonder she tried to drown me

kira malibu

[ad-venturism]

I'm blue, you're gray. My jeans, your hair. May I visit in December before it's too late to let you know all the colors of my intentions. I want to be green like a tender new leaf, green with anticipation, sometimes envy clings and climbs like ivy, I can only be myself, I cherish you like an unbruised peach. What's necessary, what's sufficient? When is love all you need, when is love not enough – enough for what? It's enough for a love story, but what about a life story, or life itself? What roles have we claimed for ourselves?