“I want to take my heart off my sleeve, it has grown too heavy.”

-m.n.

Tutti noi abbiamo rotto regole

per qualcuno

che alla fine

ha rotto noi

-tradotta

They said girls shouldn't kiss girls, so I became a sinner.

My heart strings may be a little out of tune. So long it's been since they've been used. Still I want play a song for you. A melody for my muse.

J.c.A

I took down my walls to let you in. I told you everything about myself, from my childhood trauma to my insecurities. And you still used it to hurt me. You knew what you were doing.

I fell asleep crying

Awaken with a smile

Life doesn't make sense

Emotions running buck wild

Day and night dreams take flight

So many scenes painted

Behind eyes closed or wide

Open to the possibilities

Or maybe fishing for fantasies

Day to day gets lost in a daze

A haze of have-tos and musts

Is it better to have the mettle

Rust or dry out to dust?

Prompted by @rhymingslangsblog:

What you define as love, will not always be set in stone. What defines love will change with every heartbreak, drunk driving in the rain screaming out in agony because he left. Love will come again in the day time and it will be true however inevitably it will fizzle out and you'll both go your separate ways. Love has a way of sneaking up on you once again and you will be weary but love truly.

-

Yours Truly,

AL's

ಇ

Worldbuilding

Highways and byways unwinding

From the same auspicious start

Every direction tried and true

Known by heart traveled untold times

Environments and ecosystems

Not only suitable but sumptuous

In inviting splendor, where the grass

Is always greener and smells sweeter

Valleys, mountains, and clear running streams

From wildest dreams to sublime reality

Represented and present with a golden

Glow for all the precious hours shared

Inflection infectious, catching

Myself lilting each syllable sung

Flowing fluidly from the tongue eager

To form with vocal cords thrumming

And lips always ending upturned

My favorite word in the world

Making mine feel wider open

Brighter and bolder

Whenever it is spoken or heard

Never the same since I learned it

And I prefer it that way

No other word moves me like

Your name

Inspired by the prompt: "a world in a word"

my thoughts are just as

fragmented as my thoughts

i fear the future and

i don’t want to be known for

what i had to spend,

but there’s no equity in

the things that i’ve bought

there isn’t a piece of me

that my mind doesn’t taunt

my heart is hanging on life

support and all i can

offer are apologies

i just hope one day

my body can forgive me

kira malibu

2023 - 4 - one

something in me changes at night. perhaps it knows for certain that all the best adventures happen after bed time. it feels like you opened time like a zipper-- where everything sucks but all is well. all is well. one step and slide: the swollen knee boogie; still I glide over the carpet like its water; the red light of the alarm clock blinks out into the void like a light house-- I crash upon my bed like waves upon rocks-- I hold my pillow up to my ear and I hear african poems, drums of war; made up stories under neon lights laughter, car doors shutting, and crying in the dark. crying sounds different in the dark all alone-- it feels more true. crying feels more real when it's a secret.

“The curse of being a writer is that if I showed you my words, I know you would love me too. But I can’t give them away, they are the most sacred things, I have.”

-m.n. “I strung these (words) for you with gold.”

A volte mi sento come se stessi correndo

correndo

correndo

senza mai potermi fermare a riprendere fiato,

ad asciugarmi il sudore,

a scacciare le lacrime dal viso bagnato.

Non ho tempo

per controllare se ho imboccato la direzione giusta,

o se la mia strada é abbastanza sicura.

Le gambe iniziano a cedere,

le ginocchia fanno male,

i piedi inciampano sul terreno accidentato

e sotto pelle,

dentro le ossa,

fino in fondo al cuore,

lo sento:

la caduta

sarà mortale.

-pensieri delle 22.49 di una giornata particolarmente malinconica

and while others have tasted poison, her lips don’t sting or burn. Every lick & bite I sink into that tempting fruit has healed me more and helped me learn, but still my hunger yearns.

what love (romantic) is like in your mid-twenties

quick, on the weekends. video calls after a long work day, tired eyes, can drop dead any minute but want to speak. random voice notes in the middle of the day ranting about the broken fridge or a long chores list. forgiveness, so much forgiveness. a long list of ex-lovers, one in another time zone, one married, another getting engaged, one that is still running away from his first love. pregnancy tests and are you okays. showing up with a sunflower and cheesecake for five minutes before rushing for a work meeting. double hugs because you need just a little more before you go back and face the world. cuddle positions and patterns you slip into easily, a reflex. taking thirty minutes to decide what to watch and then not even lasting ten minutes before you start making out. showing up. feeding him as he cooks the rest of the breakfast. dancing without any music because you just had a heavy conversation and need to lighten the mood. checking flights at five in the morning to a city you would have never before considered visiting but now think about often because it houses the one you start and end your days with. conversations about trauma and triggers and I-will-never-do-that-to-you promises. playlists upon playlists upon playlists. wanting approval from their family. remembering food preferences and childhood stories and birthdays even though you barely have space for new information now because you carry so much information about so many people you no longer even speak to. conversations about kinks and was that okay and how can I make it better for you and actually I like this instead of this is bed. daddy issues. mommy issues. issues, sharing and understanding and offering support. discussions about open relationships and polygamy. shopping together, cleaning. so much cleaning. talks about investments and money and career moves. wanting to punch people you have never met because they hurt them so bad in the past that you are just hearing about. forming a language of your own where words and phrases mean something so specific and sweet for only the two of you to know the subtext. effort. showing up. sticking around. more effort. messing up. so many god damn times. staying, fixing. doing better. being better. vulnerability that is neither performative nor self-serving but honest, bare. here, this is me, see me, see it all. 

The space between the ribs is hollow. My heart beats so it must echo. Come close, love. Listen. Softly, you'll hear your name.

J.c.A

You’re still on my mind. I tend to remember the laughter we shared, but not the tears I wept every single night because you made me miserable. Why is it that every time we go through a heartbreak, we only remember the good parts?