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name:   sergeant barnes.   winter soldier.   bucky. canon divergent.   est. 11/16.   written by stella.

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Alfred Eisenstaedt (1898-1995), Brooklyn Bridge (Portfolio).  

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a reprieve from every betrayal of myself i’m blocking out all the memories / of those shadowed places calling out, the deep and dark unknowable nothings. in the morning they’ll reappear as grief and loss do, dawn brushing over the eyes and okay maybe this time — just to watch me choke on it. i’m trying for something softer just to see if i can. maybe i wanna swallow the sun without burning / to think i’m not something ruined by light.

a poem that doesn’t end badly, s.a. (via hekahte)

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All I want is a voice to talk me through the night from time to time when I wake and can’t remember the room.

Lisa Olstein, from “This Season It’s All About 3D” in Little Stranger (via pigmenting)

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By Aliza Razell

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You make me feel a little less tired.

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I am here with my ordinary grief and its language.

Leila Chatti, from “The White Poet Wants to Know Why I Don’t Write More Arab Poems,” published in The Georgia Review (via lifeinpoetry)

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spare me the lecture on the survival of my body & i will spare you my body

Sam Sax, from “On PrEP or on Prayer [’spare us your burial rites’],” published in Poetry Magazine (via lifeinpoetry)

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For how many years will I write these lines for you? How many have I?

Daily Haiku on Love by Tyler Knott Gregson (via tylerknott)

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It’s getting harder to live without faith, or you, or whatever we choose to call what calls to us in the quiet.

Kevin Young, from “Book Rate,” Dear Darkness: Poems (Alfred A. Knopf, 2009)

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I know where you are with my eyes closed, we are bound to each other, we are bound to each other with huge invisible threads …

Sharon Olds, from “True Love” (in Strike Sparks)

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One day, I plan to love so loudly, my body abandons every demon harvesting me.

Arati Warrier, “Alive”(via thelovejournals)

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I think of other people then I think of you. I think of someone else then I think of you.

Jakob Maier, “Conversation With Self,” Conversations (via lifeinpoetry)

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My mind speaks English, my heart speaks Russian, and my ear prefers French.

Vladimir Nabokov, reflecting on his trilingual linguistic skills (via wordsnquotes)