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procrastinatore · 3 years

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i. roses. pure, raw happiness. i felt like i was the center of his world, and every moment i didn't spend with him was lost. fireworks with his hand in mine, and i couldn't stop smiling on the way home.

ii. petals. he felt different, like i was seeing a new person. this wasn't the same guy who fell head over heels for me, was it? uncertainty. i love you. running after him, even though i knew he wouldn't do the same for me (but maybe one day, i hope). good, but not good enough to be a priority. i was background noise and he was still on that (undeserving) pedestal.

iii. wilting. when we were together, it was so so good. but when we weren't, i could feel us falling apart. i thought a little trouble was normal. it couldn't always be picture perfect. and then i found out it was worse than i ever realized, that i hadn't been good enough for months, and nothing i could do would fix it. sand slipping between my fingers, and the harder i tried to hold on, the faster it fell.

iv. thorns. how do you forget someone who has been a part of you every day for years? no one ever told me heartache felt like a fever. i'd never felt so cold in the summer. doubt. how could i ever be enough for someone if giving up all of me still wasn't enough? (sweetheart, your worth was never tied to him)

vi. buds. peace. acceptance. falling in love with myself. remembering that i was a person before him and finding her again. a feeling of unburdenment. no more guilt or uncertainty. spending time with the people who loved me unequivocally. freedom.

vii. hello. im sorry. can we try again?

viii. roses. and maybe this is how the cycle starts again. willing ruination. letting him back in (just friends, of course) even though he once held a piece of my heart. maybe heartbreak hurts less the second time around (or that's what i tell myself).

#my writing #writing #spilled ink #7.2.21 #relationships #heartbreak #love #story #roses #falling apart #poetry

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procrastinatore · 3 years

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Not your birthday poem

I want to write you a poem for your birthday but I have to wait until I’m feeling softer and less hungry and I can tell you that you’re like a garden or the right hand of a piano melody

Today I can only tell you that you taste like a mouthful of river water, and that you feel like the scraped knee I got from the rocky bottom

Your birthday poem will be about the baby birds you nursed all night until you were aching with love and exhaustion

But this poem is about what our friend said when we found the hatchlings half dead in the chimney

That her parents taught her that in the world there was good, there was evil, and there was wild

If I would love you then I would love you wild

Frenzied

Thighs trembling and slick with black oil, with black ink

Love down to your marrow

Some days you feel like something stuck in my teeth (you love to write about teeth)

And I hate that I can smell when you’ve been in a room

A shiver an ache but an ache not in my head but my stomach like hunger: I’m only myself when I’m wanting

Everything they write about you is also about me and also about you

I get nasty when you insist on being soft I can see that you aren’t all soft that’s for your birthday poem

I don’t want to be holy I don’t want to be tender unless it’s tender like the flesh that you sink your wolf teeth into

For your birthday poem maybe I will file those canines down but in this poem I want a bloody lip

A dream I have not had but would like to:

You a princess with a blighted heart and me your gladiator

Sent into the ring to fight your demons in mismatched combat

I’ve never felt more alive than when they’re snarling and circling and I’m bracing myself for the first strike, spear and shield ready

Except for maybe I’ll feel more alive when you dance into the ring kicking up dust

Cut through the numb silence of the spectating crowd

And hold me covered in sweat and iron and demon blood

And kiss me electric home again

#not your birthday poem

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procrastinatore · 3 years

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sometimes a poem is just a poem and sometimes a poem is actually a confession and sometimes a poem is a person and sometimes a poem is a cardinal. sometimes art is just art and sometimes art is actually therapy and sometimes it’s a pipe and sometimes it’s also not a pipe.

sometimes the text is “got home safe!” and sometimes the text is actually saying i already miss the way your hair feels in my hands and sometimes the text is a warning and sometimes the text is thank you for caring. sometimes you are on the phone with your friend and you’re talking about curious monkeys but you’re also both admitting how lonely you are but you’re also both talking about how love can be a bicycle and sometimes it is not a conversation it’s an intervention and sometimes it’s not a conversation it’s a poem and sometimes it’s not a conversation it’s an art piece and sometimes it’s just a conversation but more often it’s holding hands without touching

& sometimes you are in an argument about the dishes but none of the things you are mad about are about dishes, they’re about the stuff around the dishes and the hands and the soap and how he smelled on sunday of another girl. sometimes the dishes aren’t even dishes they’re blankets and sometimes they’re burnt food and sometimes they’re your favorite book. sometimes the song isn’t a song sometimes the song is a manipulation and sometimes the song is just bad and sometimes the song is stuck in my head from you singing it in bed and sometimes it is “i listened to this so i could learn what you like” and sometimes it is “i showed you this because i want to also show you my palm lines and my heart and the inside of my head.”

sometimes you are dancing alone but you are not dancing alone because you are picturing seeing her in a green velvet dress across the room from you, and sometimes you are dancing with ghosts, and sometimes you are dancing with your mother’s voice. sometimes it is not a dance it is a walk and sometimes it is not a walk it is lying in bed and sometimes it is not lying in bed, it is not-dying, which is often good enough for survival purposes.

& sometimes you say oh, take a cookie with you when you go and you mean that i should take a cookie and sometimes you mean - take me with you, also. sometimes it is just burning something and sometimes it is burning something and sometimes it is burning a lot of other things first. sometimes it is just a shirt and sometimes it’s what you wore when you kissed her and sometimes it’s what you wore when you didn’t kiss her and sometimes it’s what you wore to the movies when you saw your last in-theatres movie without knowing it would be your last in-theatres movie.

& sometimes the poem is just a poem and sometimes the poem is my earring in your hand and sometimes the poem is your smell and sometimes the poem is calligraphy and sometimes the poem is good lord you are addicting and sometimes the poem is a poem and sometimes the poem is unfiltered yearning and sometimes the poem is an anvil and sometimes the poem is - can i write a home, can you crawl in, can we be like little ferns, all curled up in bed. sometimes the poem is a poem and sometimes the poem is a dance and sometimes the poem is saying - no, i will skip showering, if you need me there, i’m coming.

#sometimes a poem is just a poem

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procrastinatore · 4 years

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I'm tired

I'm tired and broken and lost and i don't think ill ever find my way back to what i used to call home

And i am losing my patience- wide eyed girl stop letting those hours slip by when the world depends on you

But am even all that important because sometimes i manage to convince myself despite it all that i would make a difference in the midst of it all

But then again there are 7.7 billion people in the world, 7,700,000,000 people and i am but one, and when time goes on and i turn to ash will i have really ever mattered?

(I want to tell myself yes but that stirs an uncomfortable feeling in my stomach, my heart, my throat and my emotions are caught in unexplainable threads that can't possibly be entangled so please stop trying)

#my writing #spilled ink #writers on tumblr #words #and here's our tag rant #impulse post #tired #meaning

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procrastinatore · 5 years

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Aries: I’ve had sunsets call me by my name, yet I’d still rather kiss the laughter from your lips.

Taurus: Loving you makes everything else seem difficult.

Cancer: I hate myself less when I’m with you.

Gemini: All I know is that I wake up every morning hoping today is worth waking up for.

Leo: My sad eyes want to share a couple laughs with your sad eyes.

Scorpio: I watched the sunset last night & the sunrise this morning. I thought of you both times & dreamed of you in between.

Sagittarius: I want to walk into your world and never be the same. I want to write love notes on your worst memories.

Virgo: & though I drink to miss you more, let’s just skip to someday.

Libra: The sad thing is, I will go on loving you alone.

Capricorn: If I could take the sunlight and wrap it around your shoulders forever just to keep you warm, I would.

Aquarius: Some days I miss you, and some days I miss you more.

Pisces: I hope one day you’ll forgive me for not, not letting you go.

#zodiac signs #pretty #and beautiful

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procrastinatore · 5 years

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I would give up everything for you

Despite the whispers in my heart that tell me you wouldn't do the same

And I think the fact that I'm aware of that

But still forever willing to unravel for you

Is what scares me the most.

(Our love was always a little unbalanced)

#my writing #spilled ink #writers on tumblr #poem #poetry #words #writing #poets on tumblr #and here's our tag rant #so I'm kinda just throwing stuff out here now #let's be real none of y'all read these but you know why not talk to myself some more #unbalanced #love

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procrastinatore · 5 years

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I almost broke today.

It was scary, feeling the familiarity of stress starting to consume me.

I could feel the pressure building in my head, in my chest, refusing to let me go, as if hugging a long lost friend

(I don't miss you,

i don't want to know you,

please please let me go)

I didn't like the panic that began to rise steadily, threatening to drown me (and every time i reached the top you pulled me back

down

down).

I almost broke today.

I didn't break today.

I survived.

#words #my writing #spilled ink #writers on tumblr #poem #poetry #writing #poets on tumblr #and here's our tag rant #hi if you still follow me youre the real mvp #wrote this a while ago #but couldn't figure out the ending #but i think this is good #stress #breaking #survive #6.19.19

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procrastinatore · 5 years

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You make me unravel with one touch

And i can't tell

If your truth is what ive always been looking for

Or if it's what ive always so desperately tried to hide.

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procrastinatore · 5 years

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I miss you

And the words get tangled

And stuck in my throat

Because even though i want to tell you

How much you mean to me

Im scared that you wont say it back.

I love you

#helloooo #dunno if anyones gonna read this but sorry for disappearing!#haven't had a reason to write in a while #im in a pretty good place in my life right now and I'm really happy about that #and here's our tag rant #words #my writing #spilled ink #writers on tumblr #poem #writing #poetry #poets on tumblr #i love you #i miss you

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procrastinatore · 6 years

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You’re the girl who loves too much. The girl who wears her heart on her sleeve, wishes upon every star she sees. The girl who buries her nose in books to take in stories and scents. The girl who bakes too many cookies and only eats one for herself.

-

You’re the girl who loves too much. The girl who gives of a heart that’s full and one that loves as it runs on empty. The girl who doesn’t hold back in sharing pieces of herself even if she knows they’re bound to get broken along the way and when they do it hurts so bad and you chide yourself for loving too much but you can’t help yourself, you say, I just couldn’t help it.

-

You’re the girl who loves too much. The girl whose patience parallels Penelope’s though it is oft misplaced. The girl who patches her own pieces to love and love again. The girl who’s freed by only words that catch flight, soar on wings of dreams, desire to be loved the way she wants to be, deserves to be.

-

You’re the girl who loves too much and while you know your heart is bound to break, you love and love again.

-

1323. The Girl Who Loves Too Much

#the girl who loves too much #i love this #writing

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procrastinatore · 6 years

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ten truths you will learn growing up

i. when someone leaves this earth forever, the world will come to a halt for you but two years later the waves will break at the shore just the same and you will wonder how the moon can care so little that he’s gone.

ii. the only way home will never leave you is if you find it inside of you. you will learn eventually not to build it out of bricks, you will learn eventually not to build it out of people, either.

iii. you will outgrow the dreams you thought were all you ever wanted. you must understand that this is different from giving up.

iv. i know you always think you are the exception but when your friends move across the country, your hearts will grow apart. that does not mean they have any less of a place in it, but it will hurt.

v. no one is invincible and everyone you put on a pedestal is just skin and heart and bleeds as red as you.

vi. you will not always remember that you were born good enough.

vii. there will come a time - when you are twenty, when you’re thirty, when you are forty-three - where it will hit you at 2 am that the years you have lived are gone. that sixteen-year-old you lives inside of you but her skin is made from paper and photographs. you will scream and rage against time but 2014 will not come back. you will learn to live with that ache like you always do.

viii. you will keep on marking down dreams and wishes and plans as “i want to do that someday”, and one day you’re twenty-five and you realize that “someday” has passed a hundred times in the form of yesterday. you will promise to do better next time, but you will not always keep it.

ix. people will keep telling you that it gets better but they will never say when.

x. you are so filled with kindness, and others will not be kind to you. if you do not let that harden you, it will be a blessing, not a curse.

#ten truths #how lovely #and how very true #poetry #writing

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procrastinatore · 6 years

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Turkey

#turkey #lights #beautiful

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procrastinatore · 6 years

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“Love is overrated,” she told her.

“Love is cruel and harsh

Love takes no prisoners

And while you can’t see them

My heart can feel the weight

Of the enemies that have fallen.”

The other girl shook her head slowly,

drawing the other one close,

her voice soft but strong.

"Love can be cruel.

But I think it can also be kind.

I think it’s why even though

we can feel the pain

we always come back

because we keep reaching for the light

that we saw at the beginning again.”

#hellooo #i am alive #don't know how to feel about this one #but here we go anyways #poem #poetry #words #writing #my writing #spilled ink #poets on tumblr #love #cruel #kind

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procrastinatore · 6 years

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The Happiest Man on Death Row

Joe Arridy, 23, had an I.Q. of just 46. He was coerced into confessing to the 1936 rape and murder of a 15-year-old girl, despite the fact that the murder weapon had been found in the home of another man who was identified as the killer by the victim’s sister who had also been attacked. Nevertheless, Arridy was found guilty and sentenced to death.

Unable to comprehend what was about to happen, Arridy smiled as he entered the gas chamber. In 2011, Arridy was granted a full and unconditional posthumous pardon.

[Read More]

#not fair #not right #heartbreaking

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procrastinatore · 6 years

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and when the colors bleed

into my veins

i'll remind you

of how we pretended to be

stained glass

#i also just finished a book and my heart is broken bc i never thought that twist would happen #hmu if you've read something you wanna talk about #always down to hear about good books #warcross is a good one- actually all marie lu books are great sooo #and here's our tag rant #poem #poetry #my writing #spilled ink #words #writers on tumblr #writing #stained glass #colors

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