#poetry about night

[mourningd0ves]

 Predator and prey move in silent gestures, on the seductive dance of death, in the shadows cast by the vultures of the night. - Author: Luis Marques

[cthonicdemon]

Apparently I wrote poetry in my sleep now

I'm staring at the ceiling

It's one thirty AM

The shadows have begun to move to the music of my thoughts

A music that is both horrifying and enlightening

I'm staring at the ceiling

It's one thirty AM

The monster under the bed had fled to find a better place

A better kid

Someone who doesn't disgust him

The ceiling is alive

Well the shadows on it are

They are moving but chained like the slaves of old

Carrying burdens across the sky

My thoughts don't have sense

I think about the boy I like and the girl I love

The state of the world both the accurate and the utopia

All the things I have to do, God, why can't I just get some sleep

I'm staring at the ceiling

It's one thirty AM

EVENTUALLY I DRIFT ASLEEP

-written at 1 in the morning, will I remember this when I wake up? No

[mrs-starkgaryen]

Favourite Shakespeare's Comedies

After my other poll, I am going to be specific. There shall be a battle of the favourites!!

For-

Two Gentleman of Verona (comment 🐕)

Winter's Tale (comment ⌛️)

For the love of Shakespeare, please reblog for a better analysis

[raayllum]

1x03 / S6

[kaynineacademy]

every. page. that. i. wrote. you. were. on. it.

[gale-force-storm]

He refuses to fall for the first person to show him kindness. He may be feeling sorry for himself, but that's a bridge too far.

Even if they are beautiful. And kind to everyone, not just him. And brave. And clever. And strong. And they love animals, and reading. And they have a wry sense of humour that he adores.

He won't. He can't. Besides all else, this is decidedly not the time. A bomb in his chest and a worm in his head and a weight on his shoulders and a shame in his stomach and a shattered heart he's still trying to gather the pieces of. Desperately clinging to the cloak of his past, wrapping himself in his former confidence, pretending it hasn't been worn threadbare with time in isolation and eaten ragged by the moths of doubt and fear and past mistakes.

He fell from grace so far so fast, but he cannot beg affection off the first hand to offer him help up, even if it is the first time he's touched another person in months. Even if that hand did send a sudden warmth through him and feel so right in his own he could almost cry from it.

...This is getting out of hand.

He can just be friendly with them, surely. How does one make friends, again? Shared interests? He mostly just has the one, so he'll share what he can. They pick it up quickly, and the warm magic that surrounds them is a balm on his soul. Right up until they imagine kissing him, and his heart skips a beat. It can't be. It can't be. They can't want him back. It's not possible. And how, after it all, after everything, is he meant to resist the overwhelming temptation of being wanted?

They don't let up, either. Lingering glances. Warm smiles. All but propositioning him at the tiefling party. If there is a single positive thing to be said about his year of orb-imposed abstinence, it's that the willpower he had to build up and the practice denying himself were the only things that enabled him to decline their advances.

Well, that and the risk of blowing up the both of them, along with everyone else in or near the camp.

The warm smiles and lingering gazes and casual touches still continue, though.

This is fine. He's fine. He can't remember the last time he felt like this, someone cared for him like this, and he can't do a damn thing about it, but he's fine. Everything is fine. As fine as it can be, anyways, given everything else about the situation.

He supposes he should probably be more upset about Mystra's orders. At this point, though, it's hard to feel like it's anything besides a way out. A relief that he can be good for something. One more miserable experience, and then he's done with it, and all their problems are solved. There are worse things.

Except.

They're so angry about it. Everyone is, but them especially. Arguing with both him and Elminster the entire time, insisting there's another option. That they'll find or make one. Whatever they have to do to keep him around.

Gods help him, but he does want to stay with them. Stay for them.

He sleeps that night, and awakens with a jolt, a groan, and a realization. He's glad that prestidigitation exists to clean himself up without leaving his tent and risking the others' notice. His body had, apparently, caught up with certain implications before his brain. Though from what snippets of his dream he remembers, maybe it was only his waking mind that had been lagging behind.

He wants them, and he can finally have them. Can give them as much of himself as he's able, in the time he has left.

He had refused, at first, the idea of falling for the first person to show him kindness. And he hasn't. He's fallen for someone who is so much more that that. And he will not, cannot, die without letting them know. If he has to leave them, and he fears he will, then he will not leave them feeling unappreciated, or uncherished, or unloved. Not when he can finally embrace the full depth and breadth of what he feels for them. Has felt for them for what can't have been more than a tenday or two, but feels like a lifetime and a moment all at once.

He will not leave without showing them the full scope of his admiration and appreciation and sheer joy at their presence. The full scope of how impossibly deeply he already loves them. Not while he has any say in it.

[tanyaluca]

Summer puddles…

Tanya Luca

[nothingworthnoting]

some nights i wonder how i dont collapse under

the thought of what once was

and what couldve been

other nights im sobbing inconsolably

wishing i could turn back time

wanting to be in your arms once more

longing to hear your sweet nothings

desiring to be seen by you

oh that stare of yours

ive always wondered why it made me so uneasy

only to realize you were never looking just into my eyes

but also staring into the depths of my soul

you could tell i was uncomfortable and would ask why

of course i would brush it off

as if i could actually confess to you

that ive never felt so exposed

stripped naked of all of the masks i put on

to stare at me the way you did

was to unravel me

and hold the fibers of my very being into light

oh it hurts

but hurt me as you please

[asoftepiloguemylove]

on childhood and growing up

Noah Kahan The View Between Villages / Taylor Swift Never Grow Up / Kim Addonizio The Women; Wild Nights: New and Selected Poems / @/twinnedpeaks (on tumblr) / Taylor Swift You're On Your Own Kid / リリイ・シュシュのすべて All About Lily Chou-Chou (2001) dir. 岩井 俊二 Shunji Iwai / Martha Gellhorn in a letter to Hortenese Flexner and Wyncie King; Selected Letters of Martha Gellhorn / Richard Siken Birds Hover the Trampled Field; War of the Foxes / The Perks of Being a Wallflower (2013) dir. Stephen Chbosky / Katie Maria The Memory of a Memory / Lorde Secrets From a Girl (Who's Seen it All) / Keaton St. James A List for Nightdreamers

[archiepelago]

[ticklingtimetickstotest]

Home

(All I see,is him.)

[coffeexxcigarettes]

Flambe

-

Go on and worship me.

I'll let the flames

Ignite and swallow me whole.

I'll burn from the inside,

With a smile,

Watch me take control.

Try not to be surprised,

When you see how fast I change.

You think you know all about fire,

But I burn hotter in the rain.

x

[inhales-agressively]

I JUST FINISHED READING MASTER AND COMMANDER BY PATRICK O'BRIAN AND LORD DOES HE KNOW HOW TO WRITE A BOOK

[aquickstart]

rip farleigh start you would've loved tumblr dot com

[introspectivememories]

"evan, i find you adorable". adorable as in able to be adored. as in capable of being adored. as in i find you worthy of adoration. adorable, from the latin adorare (to worship) to adorabilis (in the sense 'worthy of divine worship') to the current day adorable. as in maybe if we had made it to the movies or if eddie didn't show up, i could've showed you just how much i want to worship you. as in i look at you and there is a font of adoration in my heart for you. adorable as in i flew into a hurricane with you and yet this date is a thousand times more thrilling than that. adorable as in there is a person in your building who saw me jump up and down like a little kid in the lobby after i had kissed you for the first time. adorable as in i kissed you and immediately thought fuck i could do this forever if he lets me. adorable as in i want to press kisses to your birthmark. adorable as in i spent the entirety of the days leading up to our date wondering about you, if you liked your coffee with two sugars or one. if you liked storms or if the lightning strike had put you off on them all together. if you liked cats or dogs or if you were the kind of weirdo who liked goats instead. if you thought about the kiss as often as i did. if your stomach tangled into twisted knots as saturday drew closer. if you would be agreeable to sitting in my lap. if you would blush as prettily as you did the day i kissed you. if your world also realigned when our lips met. if our orbits had matched up now that we flew into a hurricane together. if the gravitational pull between us had finally been too strong for either of us to resist that night in your loft. or maybe, more simply, adorable as in, "evan, i find you adorable."

[kaynineacademy]

*inhales* YOU WERE THE BEST BUT YOU WERE THE WORST, AS SICK AS IT SOUNDS, I LOVED YOU FIRST, I WAS A DICK IT IS WHAT IT IS, A HABIT TO KICK, THE AGE-OLD CURSE, I TEND TO LAUGH WHENEVER IM SAD, I STARE AT THE CRASH IT ACTUALLY WORKS, MAKING AMENDS THIS SHIT NEVER ENDS. IM WRONG AGAIN, WRONG AGAIN. *exhales*