#poetry about a friend

[poetryofanewpoet]

a new friend

new things to recommend

my heart is filling with happiness

our lunch was decorated with chattiness

someone who gives and takes

not looking for escapes

just enjoying being here

no longer need to disappear

she asks good questions

and takes my suggestions

no sort of tension

we’re both paying attention

trying new food

“delicious” we conclude

let’s hangout again soon

I had fun this afternoon

-s.m.

[inkskinned]

in internet posts it is easy to cut them out of your life. they are hurting you! they aren't listening to you!

they held your hair back. they lent you lipstick. they held your hand at the train station and got you home safe. they rounded on your bully, got loud, said get fucked, spitting-mad in your defense.

they also cut the hair off again. told you that you should really think twice before wearing something like that. took you for granted. took your insecurities and threw them in your face again.

you know logically it should be easy. all the internet advice comments always read it will feel better. like an equation - if a person is rotten, you just remove them. you pull the tooth that's hurting.

but it was never a big flare-up moment. you don't live in a sitcom. they never tried to take your boyfriend or steal from your apartment. they showed up to birthdays and they wrote songs about you and bring you water without you asking. once you found out they carry an emergency inhaler for you, even though you haven't had an asthma attack in years - just in case.

where is the line? people fuck up. sometimes they fuck up badly. sometimes people have raw personalities, like a powerline, and being around them is dangerous. addicting. sometimes they can't help themselves, but you know they're trying. sometimes they are just rough-around-the-edges. sometimes they don't even realize how they sounded when they said that. sometimes it's just - you've both loved each other for so long now, the way this thing hurts goes back to the root.

and that's the fucked up part. you have pushed your fingers against the sweetheart of memory. things these days are electric, tense, harrowing. they didn't used to be. there were a lot of good days in there. sometimes you want to just close your eyes and say can this be over yet? do we still need to be fighting?

doing that would give up any chance you get of getting an apology, but you don't always know that you need an apology, you love them. once they flaked on your birthday party. once they told you to get over it, people are always dying. they also let you crash on their couch for a week after the breakup, handfeeding you when you were so sad you couldn't eat. they are also judgmental about everything, occasionally react to banal statements with an attitude that is weird and fiery. they also love you like a lighthouse sometimes, so strong they cut the storm like lightning.

but the problem is that you might be storm. you might be the thing that needs breaking. what if you are two forces who are desperately, horribly drawn to each other, shaped by the other person's passions, and both good for each other and bad in equal measure.

what if you're both just people, and you're no saint neither.

just cut them off! swallowing the saltwater, you catch yourself in the mirror. you've been shaking more than usual. there's an ache in you that is oblique, loud, impossible to soothe. is this what it looks like? when life is "easier"?

your mouth will always have a hole, is the thing, if you remove the tooth.

[avicecaro]

i think it’s important everyone knows about the little roman girl who died at only five years and seven months old, and her grave reads "dum vixi, lusi" or "while i lived, i played"

[shardofsun]

A friend convinced me to finally get past the tutorial stuff in FFXIV. Live Shard reaction to meeting Urianger

[non-conventionnel]

“A friend is someone who knows all about you and still loves you.” ― Elbert Hubbard

[firstfullmoon]

Sharon Olds, “Love Song, with Removed Cyst”

[corpsentry]

love poem (typical)

[candiedspit]

About a friend : ELEPHANT MAN NO 81

[oneweek]

richard siken / chainsaw man

[carebeardean]

🪻for when dying feels a lot like falling asleep, a lot like falling in love.

<3 fan playlist for from the airlock of your heart by @wordsinhaled , & stray by cutevamp

[cinnamorwll]

𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙮 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜… ᕱᕱ

ᡣ𐭩 hiii <3 my name is Anthony but you can call me tony!! i'm new to this lovely landscape called tumblr

ᡣ𐭩 my birthday is on the second day of the year every year! and i'm excited to finally turn 17 and have an edward cullen cake

ᡣ𐭩 i'm a boy but i swear i have thoughts!! like why Wi-Fi never works well when i need it most

ᡣ𐭩 i'm a native portuguese speaker and i also speak italian, english and i try to learn spanish but the only thing i do is watch soy luna with subtitles

ᡣ𐭩 i love listening to music, reading, drawing, autumn, vintage stuff, poetry, fashion, self-care, pinterest, video essays, cartoons, hot chocolate, and writing my stories that i plan to turn into films in the future

ᡣ𐭩 music: boygenius, wallows, the smiths, inhaler, blur, cocteau twins, jeff buckley, hozier, ruel, lizzy mcalpine, taylor swift, lana del rey, ethel cain, laufey, reneé rapp, gracie abrams, clairo, madison beer + plenty more!

ᡣ𐭩 actresses: audrey hepburn, shelley duvall, brigitte bardot, sharon tate, brittany murphy, dakota fanning, elle fanning, taylor russell, saoirse ronan & clara bow

ᡣ𐭩 movies: the secret garden, little women, a series of unfortunate events, dead poets society, mysterious skin, coraline, the lovely bones, lady bird, the secret of moonacre, the virgin suicides, uptown girls, matilda, aquamarine, the parent trap & studio ghibli movies!

ᡣ𐭩 tv shows: modern family, gilmore girls, gossip girl, the baby-sitters club, the vampire diaries, the office, brooklyn 99, tslocg, sex and the city, anne with an E, once upon a time, skins, the 100, over the garden wall, hilda & summer camp island!!

ᡣ𐭩 fav colors: preacher’s daughter brown, midnight rain navy blue & dark red ultraviolence (these colors are real, i didn’t make them up)

ᡣ𐭩 here i intend to post collages, “whispers”, things related to films, literature and some of the thoughts that keep me awake at night, like the fact that maybe i’m a lost poem by clarice lispector or a deer transformed into a human

ᡣ𐭩 this is supposed to be a safe place for anyone of any ethnicity, gender identity, etc. but if you’re racist, zionist, homophobic, religious intolerant or practice any other type of prejudice, please leave

ᡣ𐭩 feel free to follow me on my socials and i promise to follow you back!! (except if you're the type of person who doesn't return books that were lent to you)

⋆.˚ pinterest ˚.⋆ ⋆.˚ letterboxd ˚.⋆ ⋆.˚ instagram ˚.⋆

ᡣ𐭩 thank you so much for reading, you can tell that i can talk a lot but i'm also a great listener! so please comment something so we can be mutuals and feel comfortable to DM me <3

[inkskinned]

at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

[marmarbinx]

being a little in love with ur friends is like. in my chest I’ve carved out a little bedroom full of books and plants, and the sheets are clean, and the walls are your favorite color, and it’s reserved for you to come and stay whenever you please and leave whenever you like knowing you can always come home, because that part of me belongs to you, it has always belonged to you, it will never belong to anyone else, I want you, I don’t want anything to change, I need to know that you’ll always be here, I don’t want to tie you down, I would go to the ends of the earth for you, I’m happy if you’re happy, I have known you forever, we were strangers a year ago, I can’t imagine life without you, I love you I love you I love you

[7oranges]

notes on the below by ada limón, published in “the carrying” (2018)

[notquitepoetrybutsomethingclose]

I love him platonically doesn't sound like enough.

I love him with late night texts and the promise of hugs and walking together to group plans and the offer of a spare room and early birthday presents and food check ins and shared pain and the kind of trust I've never given anyone else.

I don't love him with kisses and touch and desire but don't you dare think for one second that makes it any less real or powerful or important.

[bogslob]

I’m not one for writing but

Something about a Remus Lupin who as a child loved the sky and obsessed over the moon landing. Then he was bitten and decided that the sky could only be bad.

Something about a young Sirius Black who looked at the sky with pride and adoration, after all, his family was the stars and what could be more noble than that. But then he realises how cruel they could be and how much they hurt him and he learns to resent the sky.

Something about a teenaged Remus falling back in love with the heavens, his best friend was a star how could he ever hate him? Maybe he even learns to tolerate the moon, after all, spending full moons with friends who have done the impossible for him was so much better than being alone.

Something about a teenaged Sirius who falls in love with the moon. He might hate how Remus was hurt by it, but to him the moon was Remus, he was what he would think about first when he looked in the sky. And what was more fun than running arround as a dog with his best friends in the middle of the night.

Something about an adult Remus who hates the sky. The moon hurts him and the stars betrayed him. When he looks up at the sky at night he can only think of how empty the universe is and how alone he feels.

Something about an adult Sirius who looks at the sky and hates it. He may always love the moon but when he looks at it all he can think about is how Remus must feel having to endure the transformation on his own and how much he misses his friend.