#writerblrcafe

[unmondefou]

when he is angry, he is a fireball.

and even if I dodge his scattered flames,

I end up with burns in my heart every time.

If only he knew how hard it is for me to heal,

for cooling the scars with tears is but another

continuous torture which I alone must face.

Why do you want me in pieces when I only want to be whole

--- h.harouche

[heartofmuse]

Truth is that the heart needs more forms of love from your partner than just romantic love. It needs the nurturing and unconditional love like the one that comes from a parent. It needs the love that helps you achieve your maximum potential, that empowers your virtues and is patient with your flaws like that of a teacher. It needs the love of a friend who will listen without judgment, who will laugh with you and be your confidant and accomplice. It needs the devoted love of a healer who will tend to your wounds and hurts and never turn a blind eye to your suffering but rather help the healing process knowing all the time the healing and the timing is all yours. Love is more than just romance and passion, and sooner or later it will die out if you do not nurture all the other faces of love. For if love has a thousand faces, how bland would it be if my love for you were the same one all the time. 

e.v.e.

[beforeyearning]

[wordlessea]

— Why?

Why do you have to make me fall, when you don't have any intention of catching me?

[meaningfall]

———

C. A. Singh • The world is still here (I know because I can see it)

3-6-24

[mirrorworld12]

If I count people as bridges how many bridges do we cross to finally be at home ?The home where comfort is not short lived ,where there is no ghost who goes for your bones . Where there is light and darkness all together but no fear? How many hearts do I count till I reach one that is not guarded with thorns . A heart that doesn't make my hands bleed. How many years till I can finally lay in bed that fit perfectly throughout all the seasons of life. If I count a year as a lifetime ,how many lives I have lost to find the home ? How much of me is left behind in each heart that I called home ? How long should I walk ?

[palladiumfragments]

a wisp of smoke

the summer when it dawned on me that i’m no longer thinking of you, i was sitting on the balcony of some hotel watching the wind ruffle the surface of the charcoal sea. it felt strange, almost like committing a cardinal sin, to find no traces of you in me. i remember the grief, the solace that came shortly after, but most of all the guilt—because where do i lay to rest the habit of using every lovely thing i see, like the gentle waves breaking softly towards the shore below, as a metaphor for you? 

[vivianne-betty]

Teach me how to write silence

To spell its name using

The numbness calcified in my heart

Teach me how to paint

Its alphabets with

The crimson shades of

Pain and wounds that,

Like sediments, have washed away

And into the hollow in my stomach

Read the piece here

[marigoldjesus]

I want to be a furby

You know that nostalgic thing in the crust of memory where bop it , 1999pop singers singing in malls , and dunkin roos live on. That truth or dare and you just yell dare because you want to be exhilarating. The first drink. The first kiss. The first friend. The first heartbreak. I want that easy feeling before you're hit with a wave. Or maybe i want be a sleep paralysis demon.

[subtextures]

Central Texas, Early June

Summer’s heat hangs thick.

Doves coo through a slow afternoon,

hotter earlier each day.

Beyond shade’s cooler edge,

lizards hunt their prey.

Doves coo through a slow afternoon—

the long heat’s mourning.

(June 8, 2024)

[dg-fragments]

Words were lost from him, or he was lost for words, for some things were better left unspoken, and yet even unspoken could still be written; hidden perhaps but written still, for buried inside they'd only rot and wither, and outside on paper, they might just find a life, or else, rot and wither, all the same.

- DG

[unmondefou]

let me be your coffee

for you won't find anything

tastier than me.

and I promise

to turn your wake up

into a beautiful

sleepless night.

--- h.harouche

[heartofmuse]

Love me even if life tries to steal me away from you. Love me in this silence and in the distance that are none of our doing but which we suffer all the same. Love me for my heart only beats your name. Love me without ever harboring doubt in your heart. I am yours from the marrow up and my one true desire is to be in your arms. Love me while you wait. Love me without words and with every breath. Love me till we can be together again. 

e.v.e. (Letters to my love)

[mkaugust]

When did April become my season of upheaval?

April may be a cruel month to many,

But I had always thought it purifying.

Now the purifier has turned harsh,

Turned from cleansing to punishment.

When did April become my season of upheaval?

And when did change become so cruel

Rather than a necessity, a thing of beauty?

April is the cruelest month.

[wordlessea]

[meaningfall]

———

C. A. Singh • Dissonance and Incoherence and a Loss of Self

10-25-24