#pining poetry

[ramblingsofaporcelainheart]

My heart pouring out

Through my eyes

Weeping for another “he loves me not”

Sisyphus pushing his stone

Up the unyielding mountain

Hoping for anything but the inevitable

[tithonusramble]

do you even care to know me?

I don’t think you do.

Otherwise, you would be trying and I have to squint just to see you.

never bother to ask about my day

Never asking about all the things that have happened.

Starting to feel like a backhand.

i would gladly tell you—please

But why should I? It would be wasted breath—wasted energy—wasted time.

You don’t deserve that. Probably don’t even deserve to be mine.

why do i even care if you stay?

Maybe this is all a waste.

All these poems that I’ve written, I’ve wasted them all on you.

[a-certain-type-of-frog]

This chair doesn’t let me sit right

with its strange desk arm

and position yards too far away

I’d sit under the piano if i had to, if i could. 

Its keys sing gently to guide us 

through a field of song

chords ring out i am not looking

at those platform boots at hair

that lays in different angles from

moment to moment hands gusts of

wind pushing it any direction

hands that move so distinctly i could

recognize their rise and fall in my sleep

I have seen them in my dreams

they live in my thoughts

my monday wednesday classes with 

screens that reflect my own silhouette 

instead of the one behind me

my emails as i aspire to what they

so easily encompass i am trying

not to stare.

[mikimuun]

the trauma compelled him to correct stanley's grammar

[ghost-of-melted-bones]

Maybe there's a world where we dance around the kitchen,

singing to a song we've known our whole lives,

but just starting to understand what it really means--

just starting to see that it could be about us.

Maybe there's a world where you're wearing my shirt,

and it bunches on your thighs where you sit on the counter;

I slide between your knees, wearing your socks,

and we giggle about how intertwined our lives have become.

Maybe there's a world where we stand in the bathroom,

brushing our teeth together like I promised I'd never do;

I can't help but grin at how cheesy we've become,

and you laugh with me until we melt together in a mess on the floor.

Maybe there's a world where we curl into each other at night,

but I don't feel any pressure to hide or put on a show,

and you still cling like letting go is the last thing you'd consider--

the first thing you'd do is pull me closer and murmer in my ear.

Maybe there's a world, but in this one we trade laughter and smiles,

and we exchange light hearted promises,

but we don't touch, or melt, or hold, or dance--

at least not together.

[yvixtraedoesartthingsxd]

Untitled #2

One, two, three heartbeats’ worth of time is how long it takes for me to finally decide to get up and leave my mess of a bed-- or really, just a nest on the floor of my walk-in closet, a barely cohesive pile of blankets pillows and plushies.

I haven’t taken the time to swing by his studio for a few weeks now, and I feel guilty for letting my awkward anxiety tell me that it’s best to stay away and waste the stupid amount of effort that went into outright asking him to be friends, how I almost was visibly shaking as I fumbled over trying to explain being so late to ask even though I’d seen him around a fair amount last academic year.

There’s a sense of pressure to try and look a little more put together before going outside under the excuse of getting my usual order of boba tea when really, I’m mainly hoping to see that he’s there today.

The walk there is both over too fast and too long simultaneously, my body on autopilot as I speedwalk music probably too loud through my singular earbud phone and wallet clutched in a claw grip in one hand whilst the other is on the strap of my bag knuckles white as my legs start to ache and my breathing grows slightly ragged.

I barely spare a glance at any of the people I pass or the park on my way there, making sure to check and double check my mental rehearsal of my order though I’ve gotten the exact same boba for years now: Matcha milk tea, traditional boba, fifty-percent sweetness.

When the destination is within my line of sight essentially just a really solid stick throw away, I take a moment to give a second reminder to myself to ask if it’s okay with him if I make a simple kandi single for him and if he wants anything specific for it but I can’t help the thought that it’s an odd question.

Gingerly stepping through the door I rake my gaze across the restaurant, quickly assessing that he’s not here currently if he’s to be here at all today but still wish to not waste the trip and simply order anyways, unsure on if it helps my anxiety for the moment resigning myself to trying to see him again at least one more time before winter break to talk and ask about the bracelet.

[free-gaza3]

Hello my friends, I am Muhammad from Gaza. I am addressing you from the hotbed of hell in which the occupation executed everything. It destroyed the dream and left us with nothing. Life is one thing. Before the genocide, I was a bodybuilder and enjoyed good fitness and strong health, but because of the heinous war in which we are living, I lost everything. I have nothing left to the point that I am I lost my health and lost weight because we do not find food easily. Can you imagine spending a day or two without food at all? Please save me and my family from starvation. Donate to me as much as you can. Save me from death. Pray for me and share my story. See the difference before the war and now.

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #402 )✅️

https://gofund.me/96678aac

@quasi-normalcy @free-gaza3 @wyldstallyn @wishurn @woofgang69 @wiremotherenergy @w1shb0ne @qtipq @quimerathetraveler @qcboeifzzz @elusiveink @everything-is-connected @everythingispoetry @emeraldphilo @enby-in-fandom @rubysevens @randommmmie @rileykeouhg @rickgausmann @rhinco @twyxted-mind @the-apogee @thanksveryga @gay-nidoking @gfriendunited @gfanz4ever @my-insanity-is-an-artform @bloodlaurels @ygblackpink @danburyshakes

[mournfulroses]

Alice Notley, from In The Pines: Poems; "The Black Trailor (A Noir Fiction),"

[aamerchive]

fatima aamer bilal, excerpt from moony moonless sky’s my body is a slaughterhouse.

[image credit: pinterest]

[rosarysgarden]

fatima aamer bilal, excerpt from moony moonless sky’s ‘i am an observer, but not by choice.’

[text id: i have the everlasting tendency to ruin everything i love.]

[ivynightshade]

fatima aamer bilal, from moony moonless sky’s ‘i am your mould, but the shape of you is true absence, leaving me purposeless.’

[text id: and is this not treason? / my soul belongs far more to you than it does to me.]

[ramblingsofaporcelainheart]

Few things in my body are the same

as when I loved you

My right knee still aches in the cold

Cold like the first time we were clocked as a couple and I said “just friends”

And forgot to let you answer

God why did I never ask you

My hand still tingles with gentle pain

Phantom pain from the high fives we perfected in place of kisses

A chasm I dug from my fear

Grown too great to bridge

Few things in my heart are the same.

But I loved you.

[tithonusramble]

This love sick gut feeling has been making me nauseous.

I can’t do anything but lay in bed—

high out of my mind to not think of you.

Why are you stuck there so tight?

Can’t seem to shake you loose.

The chocolate on your lips keeps me coming back—

you tasted so pretty.

I can’t go through my day without thoughts of you.

I want to be done. To be over you.

Please, I’m begging.

End this.

[morbidpunk]

Fatima Aamer Bilal, coffin heart? bury me.

[bloominginsilence]

You're going to meet someone who will love you like it's breathing.

[wordscanbeenough]

I'm not too gone to be healed, am I? / I'm not too gone am I?

Alice Notley, from In the Pines