#mlm poet

[peachypie-puppy]

Notes app poem about feeling in creative and useless 🤭

[questionable-idea]

If I was a dragon i'd put my wing over you like a blanket while we laid side by side and watched the sunset. btw.

[wordssricochet]

"i'm mr. loverman" "and i miss my loverman"

[filmbro-girlblogger]

he’s one of the only guys i like in a strictly gay way i can’t see myself being with him as a woman at all

[cainvstheworld]

Inches Closer by Cain Birch

My boyfriend pointed out that when we hug now (both of us having had top surgery) our hearts are closer together, so I wrote a little poem about it :')

[Text ID: Inches Closer by Cain Birch. The long, sticky summer fades, and I slowly peel back the bandages cocooning my chest. My scars are just flowering, and will bloom darker in the coming cooler months. Yours are lightening, softening  under the un-weight of time. You wrap me in a firm embrace, one flat chest against another, our hearts inches closer than they were in August. Now, they throb in perfect sync, too-tender skin no longer interrupting when one calls out to the other. /End ID]

[isabella13hope]

Neil: you know my motto: carpe diem, carpe noctem, carpe coles.

Todd: seize the day, seize the night, what’s the last one?

Neil: seize the dick.

[yourdailyqueer]

Yuan Mei (deceased)

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Gay

DOB: 25 March 1716 

RIP: 3 January 1798

Ethnicity: Chinese

Occupation: Artist, poet

[0bsessiv3s0ul]

I always want you when I'm finally fine

I bet on losing dogs.

[dailytraingirl]

why is knox looking at charlie like “im in love with you but im not allowed to be”

[pheebsvegetable]

this flavor of relationship makes me wanna do absolutely violent things

[b3rryblxsh]

HELLO DPS FANS I love them….

[alovelywaytospendanevening]

Lit Hub: How Wilfred Owen and Siegfried Sassoon Forged a Literary and Romantic Bond

Wilfred Owen first mentioned the presence of a new star on his horizon on August 15, 1917. He had been busy acting, editing the hospital magazine, arguing with his mother by letter about whether Christianity and the war were compatible (he thought not, and he had hard words to say about the Archbishop of Canterbury, who did). So he may not have noticed at first the presence of Siegfried Sassoon. At their first meeting, Sassoon treated Wilfred with a certain lordly condescension. Wilfred persisted, however, and their next meeting was warmer. They talked about poetry, and Sassoon asked Wilfred to help him decipher a handwritten fan letter from H.G. Wells, written in pale pink ink. Wilfred was in the full throes of hero worship, while Sassoon, although he may have been better at concealing his emotions, was beginning to feel a powerful attraction for his handsome young admirer, critiquing and rewriting Wilfred’s poems, who had sent home to his mother and sister for every scrap he had written. It should not be imagined that the relationship between the two men was all one way. Sassoon recognized in Wilfred a greater poet than himself, but his own poetry also improved as the two men worked together. Still, it was Sassoon who remained in Wilfred’s eyes “the great man,” an impression no doubt influenced by class. [Wilfred's] brother Harold scoured his letters so thoroughly after his death that it is impossible to tell whether Owen had a physical relationship with Sassoon, but in every other respect it was the closest he would ever come to a love affair. “Spent all day [with Sassoon] yesterday,” he wrote his mother ecstatically. “Breakfast, Lunch, Tea & Dinner.” Wilfred and Sassoon spent their last evening together at the Scottish Conservative Club in Edinburgh, eating a good dinner, drinking “a noble bottle of Burgundy” and laughing uproariously over a volume of especially bad poetry. Sassoon had given Wilfred, as a parting gift, a thick envelope, which he opened in the club while waiting to take the midnight train. It contained a ten-­pound note and a letter of introduction to Robert Ross in London, the friend, editor, and devoted defender of Oscar Wilde and a literary luminary almost as well connected and admired as Edward Marsh. Ross was a friend of H.G. Wells, Arnold Bennett, and Osbert Sitwell, as well as a central figure in the homosexual literary and social world. Sassoon must have hesitated before including the ten-­pound note for fear it might be taken as an insult, but Wilfred responded with genuine gratitude. "Know that since mid-­September, when you still regarded me as a tiresome little knocker on your door I held you as Keats + Christ + Elijah + my Colonel + my father-­confessor + Amenophis IV in profile…. I love you, dispassionately, so much, so very much, dear Fellow, that the blasting little smile you wear on reading this can’t hurt me in the least….And you have fixed my life—­however short. I was always a mad comet; but you have fixed me. I spun around you a satellite for a month, but I shall swing out soon, a dark star in the orbit where you will blaze." He ended his letter with a phrase he had used earlier to his mother to describe his relationship with Sassoon: “[We] knew we loved each other as no men love for long.” (Full article)

[questionable-idea]

fun fact: the heat of passion and love that burns within me is painful due to its intensity

[arspoeticamaia]

“I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth.

[b1tchyboyxd]

★Spoiler alert !!

Small spoiler of the story I'm currently writing ;3

Request by : ⚰️ Annon

───────────── ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ────────────

He could feel the heat from your body now, he could hear the sound of your breath in your chest. You were so close, so vulnerable, so ready for the taking.

But he had to be careful, one wrong move and you would resist.

“Please.” he said, his voice low and persuasive.

“Let me walk you home. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if something happened to you on the way.”

Your resistance faded at his words, your exhaustion winning out over your sense of politeness.

You sighed, your shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Alright.” you said, a note of resignation in your voice. “If you’re really sure it’s no trouble…”

A wave of exhilaration washed over him.

He had done it. He had won.

Kenji's smile turned into a smirk as he casually slipped his arm around you, guiding you out of the now-dark cafe.

───────────── ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ────────────

lol

[to-indeed-be-a-godd]

La Vie en rose

Neil sighed his head beginning to hurt from studying the words against the script, he had practically all his lines memorized except for the few spoken in french, specifically when his character was meant to hold an entire conversation in the language.

“je…sais..que-que je-“

he groaned unable to pronounce the words taking a deep breath and repeating them.

“je sais …que je t'aime..” He said the words finally able to pronounce them as the familiar blond walked into their room raising an eyebrow surprised.

“You speak french?” Todd asked shyly setting his things down on the bed as Neil sighed toss the script back on his bed.

“I wish, i have to say things in french for this play i’m doing” the blond made a small o shape with his mouth before taking the book from his desk and playing his walkman as he read, his face focused as a stray piece of hair dangled over his eyes, Neil’s fingers burned to tuck the stray strand of hair behind the others ear but held back still reciting the words over and over.

“je sais que je t'aime”

Eventually it began rolling off his tongue a bit however his accent was anything but believable as he sighed his headache getting worse each time he repeated his he phrase till finally his roommate set down his book and stood up.

“You aren’t saying it correctly.” He said bluntly looking at Neil before holding his hand out for Neil to give him the script which he handed over.

Todd read it carefully, “je sais que je t'aime, n'est-ce pas suffisant?” the words rolled off his tongue leaving Neil in a state of shock and completely flustered, as if this boy couldn’t get anymore perfect.

“i’m sorry…you speak french?!” He stumbled over his words looking at Todd a mix of excitement and shock.

“I learned a bit growing up…” He replied sheepishly handing Neil back the script.

“wait wait so how do you say it?” Neil asked because he needed to know how to pronounce the words and not because his roommate speaking french was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard.

“je sais..” he said waiting for Neil to repeat after him the two following along with the other through each word.

“je sais que je t'aime, n'est-ce pas suffisant” Todd said again and Neil repeated in a good enough way that Todd gave him a proud smile.

“What does it mean anyways?” Neil asked curiously noticing the slight blush against the others features, god this boy had Neil’s heart doing backflips every second.

“Oh..I know i love you…isn’t that enough?” He mumbled sitting back down against his bed as Neil thought for a second.

“so i love you is?” he asked knowing how dangerous this game he was playing was but so desperate to hear the words come from the others mouth.

“Je vous aime” Todd said softly his eyes meeting Neil’s and oh god Neil’s heart might have stopped.

“je vos-“ he tried to say it knowing he was butchering the pronunciation.

“Je vous aime” The blond repeated slower as Neil stepped closer as they both fell into a rhythm of Todd repeating the words as Neil stepped closer trying to mimic it until Neil was practically standing between Todd’s legs neither breaking eye contact.

“Je vous aime” Todd’s voice was so small practically a whisper that made Neil’s heart sing, there was little Neil loved more then acting but for Todd, Neil would give the world for Todd, he’d give anything to hear him utter those words once more.

“puis-je t'embrasser?” Neil had no clue what he had said all he knew it sounded like a question and all he could do was silently nod before he felt soft lips press against his.

It was sweet and soft but desperate and affectionate, like both of them had been wishing for this for an eternity.

Neil was kissing the most beautiful boy he had ever met, and who apparently spoke french.