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#prose poetry
iambrillyant · 2 days ago
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“there is nothing more attractive and more powerful than someone remembering who they are again. seeing them swim in their true essence after an extended time stuck at shore, seeing them return back to themselves of old, but dealing with the waves differently now.”
— iambrillyant
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poetryofhvaw · a day ago
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somethingrewritten · 2 days ago
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"We don't just 'move on.' We cannot simply untangle the sewn-together edges of our lives and call it a clean break, a clean cut. We remember the people who have touched our lives in pieces. We remember them in sunsets, in our favorite songs or the songs that we immediately skip when they sneak up on us on the radio. In the restaurant we would only visit on Thursday nights but no longer go to at all. In the way that autumn arrives suddenly with a chill but now without the borrowed jacket hanging over our shoulders to lessen it. In every new memory we create without their presence to accompany it, and likewise, in the immediate dull urge to tell them about it. Sometimes we move on while people are still in our lives, and other times we never move on despite them being undeniably out of it. But no matter when it happens, or in what way, it rarely passes quickly. Invariably, it's a slow burn. One that we find ourselves lighting with gasoline to accelerate it; the warmth of another lover, or the cool touch of solitude and comfort of memories that only live behind our eyes. So, you see, there is nothing simple about moving on. Because the task itself asks us to bury something we once loved. Something we once clung to with a white-knuckled grip. So don't just move on, move through it, move with it, move forward from it. Because if life suggested you leave something so valuable behind, there must be better things ahead."
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killianteef · 2 days ago
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There's something that happens when someone's butch — not trying to be butch, undeniably butch, even in long earrings and a dress you can tell they're raring to be in a shirt and slacks, in the corner of the room as opposed to the centre— but also so delicate. You ask them to get something from the top shelf and they fix their eyes on it and rise to the tips of locked toes. Their joints bend just a little too much and they notice when someone stands like a dancer. They talk with their hands and turn up the femininity in their voice a crazy amount at parties because they haven't yet learnt you don't need to talk like that any more, honey. They worry about making people uncomfortable in bathrooms and keep friendly smiles at their fingertips when traversing busy, rainy streets. They hide their chest beneath layers and layers of shirt, sweatshirt, denim jacket covered in patches— but still hunch, trying to accommodate a shame that's always been there, stuck to the skin like industrial glue. They keep silent around their family and scream out the rage later, wondering why can't you see me?
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groceries-with-me · 2 days ago
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the ambulance ride to the psych ward was quiet. i'd spent the day crying and sleeping and throwing up the fistful of pills i'd swallowed. i didn't know what to say. it was dark outside, dark in the ambulance, dark in the pit of my stomach where the damage i carried every day twisted and swelled. but little by little, the paramedics started exchanging small talk. they talked and cracked jokes and made fun of each other. little by little, the laughter started slipping through my lips before i could remember all the reasons i had to be sad. sometimes the world is big and terrifying and feels impossible. but sometimes, sometimes it is small enough to fit inside the palms of three kind strangers taking a girl somewhere she can go to get better.
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missinyouiskillingme · 8 hours ago
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ravenstakeflight · a day ago
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5 - sandalwood
it was just an experiment in the beginning. the sandalwood shapoo reminding him of his first home centuries ago, his mother's loving - then horrified, angry - kisses. an experiment, to see if he could handle it after all these years.
he couldn't, but he was a masochist and kept at it, and it almost broke him until alec stumbled into his life. his boyfriend - husband, eventually - loved magnus' sandalwood scents, always taking an appreciative, slightly longer kiss every time magnus covered himself in those aching reminders.
it didn't take long for magnus to add another thought to his sandalwood:
alec. his kisses, healing long-scarred wounds; his warrior's hands gently roaming over magnus' brown skin. the memory of him saying they're beautiful. you're beautiful. like it was just that simple to him.
sandalwood is so many homes, his first home [the blue, blue water, his mother's brown eyes and gentle hugs turned harsh punishments] to alec's simple i love you, like magnus hadn't fought and bled to make his own family for centuries.
sandalwood is home.
[@malectober]
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therendingflame · 2 days ago
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I despise how love speeds up time. What if time was infinity? What if I could use a time machine? Hearts entwined with heavenly bliss, love consumes me. What if this moment was forever? What if I could re-live it every time I craved your presence? What if you and I were meant for eternity?
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anaysa · 4 months ago
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Alex Light
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trees-and-planets · 2 months ago
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— Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov
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iambrillyant · 2 months ago
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“some connections are seasonal and there’s nothing wrong with that. there’s something special and intimate about seeing what kind of growth has taken place when you reunite. something beautiful about knowing that your connection is not defined by proximity, distance or visibility.”
— iambrillyant
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schuylerpeck · 10 months ago
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schuylerpeck / instagram: hiitssky
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lunatic-muse · 6 months ago
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If the moon smiled, she would resemble you.
You leave the same impression
Of something beautiful, but annihilating.
— Sylvia Plath, The Rival
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feral-ballad · a month ago
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Maggie Nelson, from Bluets
[Text ID: “Is to be in love with blue, then, to be in love with disturbance? Or is the love itself the disturbance? And what kind of madness is it anyway, to be in love with something constitutionally incapable of loving you back?”]
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doseforquotes · 3 months ago
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A Gentle Reminder by Bianca Sparacino
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littleteenagethings · 5 months ago
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I always thought that the ultimate cause of a broken heart was because of words so sharp they pierce the depths of your soul. Now I know, that real heartbreak stems from silence.; from the goodbyes never uttered, cheek kisses never shared, and hugs never felt. These are the ingredients of a broken heart, a heart broken beyond repair.
Excerpts from the book I’ll never write #405
17/4/2022
10:25 pm- Dear Pa.
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missinyouiskillingme · 2 months ago
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“I don’t know what they are called, the spaces between seconds — but I think of you always in those intervals.”
― Salvador Plascencia, The People of Paper
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