Your
laugh
is like a
downpour
or a
drought.

And god,
you
wouldn’t
believe
how
often
I pray
for rain.


  Your laugh - j.b. (via youshouldacceptchaos)  
Fri, 01st of August    717 notes    Source

teamcaptains replied to your post: anonymous said:Most of you’re wri…

i rly like your writing ! just keep doing you c:

omg tysm!! im blushing, luv ya.

Fri, 01st of August    1 note
Anonymous said:
Most of you're writing.... I don't get it? I want to like it but I literally don't understand lol. No hate tho =D

lmao… idk what you want me to say exactly ummm wish i could help BUT if you don’t get it, i’m probably not writing for you anyway? imo.. tbh.

Fri, 01st of August    2 notes
Poems are never just poems. They’re compensating for something. Here are the words I wish I had written in crescent-moon bite marks down your neck. Here are a hundred words for “stay,” and a hundred more for “please.” Here is how I hold a pen. Here is how the pen holds me. Here are my thoughts, over-steeped in empty fervor. Here is nothing and everything all at the same time.

  Fragment 5, Kristina Kutateladze (via overwhelmington)  
Thu, 31st of July    3,466 notes    Source
I have been an ashtray
of desire for boys
with calloused palms.
I have been a prayer
left unsaid. I am here
nor there—I am the light
that surrounds you.

  Shelby Asquith, I Am Every Girl With Too Little To Say (via exahele)  
Thu, 31st of July    108 notes    Source
Your father wanted to name you
after a wet season
he wanted to explain
why the rain falls;
just so that it can taste your skin
dip into your collar bone
drip down your shoulder blades
and on rare occasions when no one
is looking and your head is tilted back,
rush into your open mouth.

  Warsan Shire, Poem to Self and Other Insecure Women  
Thu, 31st of July    113 notes

haunth:

my room’s aesthetic game is so strong rn

Wed, 30th of July    1,022 notes    Source
Your human body
is a terrifying place
to be sometimes.

  from 'Anatomical Truths' | Anita O.  
Wed, 30th of July    99 notes
When you stand
in the middle of my name
shoulder-deep in the river
weaving in-between the sounds.
When you turn my name on its side
to climb up the rungs
to put your ear down on my cheek
even though my teeth
have been clacking in your pocket
since your mouth first held my name isn’t
something to chew on but your bite
feels more like breath, a necessary
imploding bloom. When you reach up
in my name & pull out a bouquet
of flushed cheeks. When you shiver it
to shatter & scatter it to grow seed
on my skin. When you tear out
the rearview mirror in my name.
When you pull the moon down
to get a closer look. When you shake
all the ache out of my name.
When you flip it on its back
& lay out its legs. When it sails
over your lips it always sounds
like the first time my ears
ever heard it right.

  Feelings of Forever  ✮  Amanda Oaks (via amanda-oaks)  
Even when I’m dead, I’ll swim through the Earth like a mermaid of the soil, just to be next to your bones.

  Jeffrey McDaniel (via alonesomes)  
Wed, 30th of July    1,271 notes    Source
I fox ‘heart’, striking a modern breast
hollow as a drum, and ‘beauty’ I taboo.

  From Sonnet #23 by John Berryman (via hush-syrup)  

amanda-oaks:

Todd Moore

Tue, 29th of July    101 notes    Source
Making love with you
is like drinking sea water.
The more I drink
the thirstier I become,
until nothing can slake my thirst
but to drink the entire sea.

  Kenneth Rexroth, The Love Poems of Marichiko: VII (via hellanne)  
Tue, 29th of July    1,643 notes    Source
Tue, 29th of July    6,873 notes    Source
My mouth is a fire escape.
The words coming out
don’t care that they are naked.
There is something burning in there.

  Andrea Gibson, The Madness Vase (via observando)  
Tue, 29th of July    3,254 notes    Source
llmns