coffee-and-quill-blog
Ink Stains, Coffee Rings, and a Dash of Stardust
Just a place for a tired gal and her extraneous thoughts.
32 posts
Don't wanna be here? Send us removal request.
Last Seen Blogs
aseriesoffic
A series of Fic
shraaang
Just doing my thing! :)
yana-empowers
Yana Empowers
wyn6308
脈絡なく続くつぶやき
Text
Place to Rest
Hello there,
weary traveler.
Thank you for
stopping at my
little nook
on your journey.
Here, let me
take your hands,
kiss your split knuckles,
mend your threadbare sweater,
coax the tangles out of your hair,
dry your tears.
Take these:
music and
laughter and
wine
and I hope your journey is safe.
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
Shift in Tone
In my English class,
our teacher had us debate -
at first it was all fun and games
as we gave opinions we didn’t believe in
to a topic neither of us cared about.
Somewhere along the line,
in a moment I can’t pinpoint,
everything shifted
and your tone became accusatory
and I felt less like I was in a classroom
and more like I
was facing a firing squad for
a crime I did not commit.
You moved closer and closer
your voice increasing in volume,
and you stole the air from my lungs
everytime I moved to speak.
Closer, closercloser
and I kept moving backbackback,
until I bumped into another group debating behind us,
and there was nowhere left to hide.
You kept stalking closer
and yelling words to
an argument I couldn’t hear
and just as I was about to retort with what air I had left,
you grabbed my hand,
and squeezed.
I don’t know why,
but I yanked my hand back so violently
the other groups had noticed
and I barely asked the teacher and grabbed the pass
to go to the bathroom
before I was
f
a
l
l
i
n
g
apart.
1 note
·
View note
Text
Sweet Pea
“Hey,
I’m sorry
that you had
to deal with this.
I wish,
I could have been more,
better,
but in the end,
everyone’s better off this way.
Please take care of my flowers,
and remember to sing while your tend to them -
everything that grows
needs a little love
and music
to bloom.”
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
Bittersweet
After listening to my favorite
musical from start to finish
or
watching my mom’s
favorite movie for
the 100th time,
it hits me:
this could be
the last time
I ever do this.
A cracked, bittersweet smile
never fails
to flicker across my features.
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Laughter, in a Minor Key
Her laugh used to be like
a jingle of silver bells -
the kind toddlers string up on Christmas trees
and that decorated Santa’s sleigh,
announcing the arrival of
kindness and generosity and warmth
personified.
Now, it has this
heartbroken lilt
clinging to its melody
and it always ends with
this half-sob
stuck between happiness
and tears.
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
Anonym(i)ty
It boggles me to think
that complete strangers have seen the parts of me
I hate the most, and
that I have vowed
to never let my closest friends
get a peek of.
1 note
·
View note
Text
Of this World
After spending the day
with kids in my grade
I smell like an untouched meadow
after a sunshower
and there are remnants of leaves
tangled in my hair,
like we rolled down a hill
overlooked by huge oaks
shedding their leaves.
They are true
Children of the Earth
and spending the day with them
makes me seem
a little bit more human.
1 note
·
View note
Text
Fri(end)
Everytime we talk alone,
I feel like a terrified bug
all four
stick-thin legs
pinned down
and scrutinized
under a microscope.
Like you’d like
to run a cool scalpel
to slice through
the underside of my belly
and poke at my heart,
pinch and release my arteries,
callously curious
as to what
makes
me
tick.
And you wonder
why I
“never tell you
anything.”
1 note
·
View note
Text
Night
Nights are dangerous
only because
it means
that’s more time
I have to spend
with myself.
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
What’s M( )ss( )ng
My chest is so hollow,
my brain so bare,
I’m surprised my sentences
aren’t missing words altogether.
1 note
·
View note
Text
Van(i)shed
The other day,
out grade of
almost-but-not-quite adults
shuffled into the auditorium
to listen to an assembly on
unthinkable prospects of
days future.
As I sat in the sea of faces,
I couldn’t help but wonder
if anyone
would notice if
my face
vanished.
(let’s hope
they get used
to the idea.)
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
Trapped
If you’ve ever wondered what
anxiety feels like,
its like
you’ve trapped a bird
in your ribcage
and it’s desperately trying
tooth and nail and beak and claw
to escape from
the reach of
some shadow
you can’t see.
#poetry#poets on tumblr#spilled ink#spilled thoughts#anxiety#at least this is what it's like for me#not everyones the same
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hate
Blue eyes and icy words
sliced through the room
and cut up the fleshy insides
of my cheeks.
“You,”
she hissed,
venom dripping from her chin
“I hate you more
than anyone else
in the world.
I hate you more
than anyone
will ever hate you.”
A sneer stretched its way
across my split lip.
On scraped and trembling knees
and between rattling breaths
of a cracked rib
I rose to
shoot back my own
biting retort
between spitfuls of blood.
“Well then,
the jokes on you -
no one
hates me
as much as
I hate me.”
1 note
·
View note
Text
Dis(cover)y
A terrifying prospect
is that my
friends and
family and
classmates and
teachers
find this little home I’ve made
for all my darkness and sadness and anxiety.
The idea of the people I know
knowing how irreparably damaged I am
is one of the scariest thoughts I can imagine.
Being alone, here, though,
with all the proof of my inadequacies,
that might be
just a little bit
scarier.
#poetry#poets on tumblr#spilled ink#no followers#except for two and if you two ever see this welcome to this little crazytown#thanks#spilled thoughts
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
Me
The person
who knows
me the best,
who knows my
quietest secrets
and
deepest truths,
hates me
the most.
10 notes
·
View notes
Text
Pretending
If you smile
hard enough,
and
squeeze your eyes shut,
the sobs
stuck behind your teeth
will come out sounding
like laughter.
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
Seasonal Symphony
In the spring,
it’s snare-drum showers,
sometimes punctuated with
crash cymbals booming throughout the sky,
a bolded and grand fortissimo.
Moments later,
bright chirps
like bells and xylophones
ricochet off tree branches.
In the summer,
a chorus of crickets accompanied by
hissing of cicadas
rising and swelling
crescendo and decrescendo.
A few days,
if you pay $17.76 at the door,
you get a light show
in addition to
the orchestra of screeching trumpets
and booming cannons
announcing a
patriotic tune.
In the autumn,
the wind gets to play conductor,
rustling the trees
like a thousand individual rainsticks.
Some scrape noisily
across the street
while the windchime at my neighbor’s house
echoes the breeze’s sentiments.
In the winter,
it’s nothing but
cloying silence
coating the ears
sitting on the tongue.
Measures and measures of just
whole rests,
each falling snowflake introducing
their own take on
quiet.
8 notes
·
View notes