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#poetry – @sculptedfromclay on Tumblr

we put it in wine because it's less noticeable

@sculptedfromclay / sculptedfromclay.tumblr.com

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I was left behind with the immensity of existing things. A sponge, suffering because it cannot saturate itself; a river, suffering because reflections of clouds and trees are not clouds and trees.

Czeslaw Milosz, from Esse (via 110v)

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apoemaday

The Unbearable Weight of Staying

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prewars
by Warsan Shire
i don’t know when love became elusive what i know, is that no one i know has it my fathers arms around my mothers neck fruit too ripe to eat, a door half way open when your name is a just a hand i can never hold everything i have ever believed in, becomes magic. i think of lovers as trees, growing to and from one another searching for the same light, my mothers laughter in a dark room, a photograph greying under my touch, this is all i know how to do, carry loss around until i begin to resemble every bad memory, every terrible fear, every nightmare anyone has ever had. i ask did you ever love me? you say of course, of course so quickly that you sound like someone else i ask are you made of steel? are you made of iron? you cry on the phone, my stomach hurts i let you leave, i need someone who knows how to stay.
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I look at him and think– we were young and I was so in love with you.   I imagine this as a conversation we will have two decades from now, in some clandestine grocery store three states over.   I’ll say, do you remember the days when we wanted to kiss just a little bit more than we wanted to die?   He’ll smile. He’ll say, do you remember the days when we wanted to die just a little bit more than we wanted to be together?

IN TWENTY YEARS, WE MEET IN A GROCERY STORE by Ashe Vernon  (via lire)

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I want to find peace but I’m not certain where to look. I feel like my heart is all full of wildfires burning burning burning, devouring all the good things like an open mouth. But I feel more like an open wound and I try to hold onto all the good things that I can, with my hands that could be prettier. Hydrangeas and chamomile tea with milk and saying ‘I love you’ too often and sweaters that are a little too big and eating cherries until my mouth is red and when the sky looks like a grapefruit are good things. Or maybe they’re the things that make me feel human, flesh and blood, a girl with good intentions who makes mistakes a lot. And it’s okay to make mistakes; I just forget. I like mistakes, I like flaws, I like secrets, I like all the ugly things that fill you up. I like people, just not myself, sometimes

Zoë Lianne, “Girl/Wildfire” (via eveninglesbian)

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luthienne
I wish there were a name / for this feeling of trapped, stranded / and alone as if alone were the coldest steel / bar I ever put my tongue on and then tried to run.

Tara Hardy, from My, My, My, My, My; “Second Time” (via mythaelogy)

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