#poets on instagram

[theartoffresco]

[yusha-rizvi12]

"I know I can't turn back time but I wish I can turn back myself from the mess I am!"-Yusha Rizvi

[toomagazineperfection]

Of the sweetest eyes.

Fire all myth.

God all cusk.

All love is dead.

Your face of wrath and purity gone bane.

A death of you seeking.

A death of you loving.

You, loving.

Sunidhi

[abrighterspark]

your back is broad and bears burdens bigger than i know

but i swear to you, i'll take them first before the strain begins to show

[victormalonso]

just reflections | victor m. alonso

[womandust]

Hatching, a poem

My world was the dark of night, 

Warm and cozy, safe from the cold.

My feathers were free from the touch of time,

But an eggshell isn’t the biggest home.

 My mother’s beak rolled me beneath

The twigs and sticks that fused me

To the magnificent softness of her body. 

After a while, I craved the joy

Of the birds who sang as they soared

Past the nest; their wings hummed

A light, breezy melody of spring.

My body curled into the moist heat,

Began to burn like hell. 

I slammed my beak against the shell—

My world was a vein of light. 

[sagwasagwa]

- LembiPoetry -

https://www.instagram.com/lembipoetry?igsh=MTFwMGl3cmx0ZW5odw%3D%3D&utm_source=qr

[forever-deep-in-thought]

Life hasn't always gone my way, but it's always given me a reason to stay.

[kiwifrowner]

He said, everytime i shape my cotton candy in a flower it keeps shape-shifting into one of your intestine and i chew on it, everytime. I have a cannibalistic motive and i am not going to make you a simple victim because assassination was our foreplay.

What happens when in a family of a sheep the wolf is born?. This is when hunger grows hands, i bear you in my belly— such women feed on the suns and has a crooked digestive system. But honey, in this tradition of being on the edge of madness, having one toe against the knife like it is ribbon of fiendish waiting to be cut, to only be welcomed by lavish exposure of perishment.

This boy i knew in sixth grade, his father was a butcher when he slaughtered lamb he begin with taking off her eyeballs. Was it mercy to not let her see how her organs are being prepared for the trade. Or was it shame he saved himself from, did her eyes made him count his own sins and weight of the lives he is going carry. Or perhaps it was guilt?.

Later when i was twenty-one and boy i knew in sixth grade is now a butcher, this boy too, butchered lamb’s eyeballs first like his father but he turned them around, perhaps not all son’s become their fathers some become their father’s revelation.

Oh honey said the boy, because assassination was our foreplay. When your rookie sword will turn up against my butcher knife mine will already have your blood. I think when sons inherit their father’s violence they don’t inherit their vulnerabilities.

If assassination was our foreplay, who is eating who?. In this story if i am writing the epilogue why are you the wolf and i look like a sheep?. Why am i haunted and you the haunting?.

— Because assassination was our foreplay, he said.

— muffinsincoffin on instagram

[bloodintoink-blog]

"What did he do to make you hate him so much?"

What did he do to make me love him at all?

—𝓓, from ‘Wish he understood’

[marigoldjesus]

SLUTPOP available to purchase below

[theartoffresco]

[yusha-rizvi12]

It's going to end someday-Yusha Rizvi

[toomagazineperfection]

Love me back.

Love me hard.

Love me in your heavy crime.

Want you to.

Ask a love, so little.

Ask a life, so brittle.

In your asking madness, life becomes..

Deepest of eye shades.

Want you in my lovin'. Spend my breathin'.

Ask so little. Sade's high. Write in me, lovin'.

He.

Sunidhi

[kyvl]

8-11-23

i scream and cry and claw as it slips through my fingertips, as your face fades like the worn canvas of my shoes and the love dries like the morning due at midday. when the feeling fizzles out like an opened beer left on the mantle and the silence spills over me like the light that bleeds through the half-closed curtains as the dawn creeps over the hillside and greets me with a warm welcome sigh. and i remember the earth still turns and the sun still shines and the clothes i put in the wash will smell like mildew if i don't move them to dry. so i get up and do laundry as my heart beats in another room, trying to call for you with every thump.

[victormalonso]

take me to heaven | victor m. alonso