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Because I still haven’t learned how
to tell the whole truth yet.

Because I still can’t speak when
certain people are watching.

Because I have a lot of questions
but give a lot of answers.

Because I can’t breathe.

Because I am always in love and
never brave with it.

Because my mouth isn’t a kingdom.
Has never been a kingdom.
Could never be a kingdom.

Do you even know? The difference
between being soft and
being suffocated?
Because I don’t.

Because I wrap my hand
around the fist.
Because I put the blanket over
the fire.
Because I kiss the wound and
wear it like lipstick.

Don’t leave me behind. Don’t
forget about me. Don’t hold
it against me.

Because I’m still young.
Because I have time.
Because I’m still young.
Because I have time.
Because saying that doesn’t feel
as free as it used to.

Caitlyn Siehl, Have Time
(After “Because” by Melissa May)

5:51 pm  1,700 notes

What kind of poetry makes your stomach ache?
by Anonymous

alonesomes:

Any poem with repetition makes me cry. A poem that says “At last. At last. At last” or “Yes. Yes. Yes” or “We will be better. We will be. We will. We.”

Say it until you can’t anymore. Write it until it’s a chant. Write it like you’re waiting for someone to stop you. Then I’ll follow you anywhere. I’ll follow that poem anywhere.

5:50 pm  175 notes

Yesterday, I knew how it would end.
Between sips of milk and knotted thumbs,
I thought of it loudly, all day. Today, I can’t seem
to remember much.

Yesterday, I knew that it would smell of
grass and charred wood and
sound like a hose left running
a few houses down.

Yesterday, I knew that when it ended,
the waterfalls would rush backwards
and the clouds would huddle in a corner of the sky
and my sister would nod to herself in the mirror,
blink twice, and love herself.

Yesterday, I knew how it would end
and that just before it did, the world would blush
and quiver. The soil would chuckle
and ask for water and chuckle again
and as the petals bowed, the lights would dim.

Yesterday, I knew how it would end but today,
I know only that it will, only that you will be there
and you will whisper ‘I love you, baby,
I love you enough to watch you go’.

Signs | Ramna Safeer (via inkywings)

4:56 pm  437 notes

“You’ll walk a city street that your feet have never touched before and you’ll be terrified of getting lost and that feeling is what’ll help you find the way home.”

— Azra Tabassum (via larmoyante)

(via alonesomes)

10:55 am  4,857 notes

9:31 am  3,453 notes

(Source: jnkih)

italiawasteland:

Gustave Courbet, L’Atelier du peintre, 1855

8:35 pm  53,534 notes

italiawasteland:

Gustave Courbet, L’Atelier du peintre, 1855

“I don’t want to know what time it is. I don’t want to know what day it is or where I am. None of that matters.”

— Jon Krakauer, Into the Wild (via seabois)

(via seabois)

6:29 pm  692 notes

“Don’t worry about the living room with no furniture. Lie on the rug to watch tv.

The dark wood is beautiful but it will not save you.

You have done unforgivable things here. You will continue to do so.

From the third floor, all you can see is trees.”

— Melissa Walker, “Rough Guide to Sacramento,” published in Split Rock Review (via bostonpoetryslam)

(via alonesomes)

6:24 pm  592 notes

11:02 am  8,190 notes

gentle-insomnia:

m-i-s-o:

Been back in Tokyo for a little while now, really happy. Muggy summer, watching a Shibuya train platform from my bed, windows open. x 

I’m so in love, I’ll have to visit Japan soon

(via rub-raw)

“She scares the hell out of me and calms my soul at the same time. Maybe that’s what love is—a total contradiction that somehow balances out.”

— Tammara Webber, Where You Are (via quotethat)

(via whisperingbones)

9:30 am  86,185 notes

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