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diaryofrey · 2 days
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diaryofrey · 2 days
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And all of a sudden, i felt really tired. like the world has drained me for everything that i had
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diaryofrey · 2 days
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diaryofrey · 2 days
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“I can tell you’re not yourself lately and I hope wherever you’ve gone, you feel free.”
— R.M. Drake
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diaryofrey · 4 days
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who needs mental stability when i have them?
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diaryofrey · 9 days
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i often compare myself with other poets and how they take their whiskey neat while i sit there with a glass of apple juice in hand, i watch as they write and birth metaphors about things and similies that make you cry, i watch as the ink on their paper dries and the one from my pen stains the pages, i watch how my words had decided to stop flowing from my brain, i watch the time run out and how my words were only filled with deprecating thoughts, self doubt and blame. i watch how my throat burns when i try taking a sip of their drink. obviously, there's no comparison in art, but they will always feel like the better thing.
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diaryofrey · 9 days
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conan grey said that "distance brings fondness but guess not with us" not in a way that he was not affectionate or lacked adoration or never thought of his lover when he saw a leaf turn auburn from green or there was no poetry that burst in his chest like fireworks when they kissed. it's similar to what breaks me - distance scares me, what if the ship is sinking and you're too far away to hold my hand and climb up ? what if the bus is coming our way and we can't move away together? what if one was ahead and one behind, would I have lost you that time ? would the virtual kitchen dances suffice ? distance brings fondness, but what if it kills us ? would i have to turn back the clocks and hit pause? would I end like a tortured poet or a dead one ? would it end with yours being the name that bleeds through the wounds on my heart, right onto the gauze ? will i be sitting on the kitchen counter again with tears in my eyes and our memory box ?
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diaryofrey · 9 days
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i sometimes wish that heartbreak was beautiful as poetry makes it the beauty in the metaphors and similies that make it sound romantic. how he took his whiskey neat but i sat with a box of apple juice on the kitchen counter staring at the drunken mess, glass shattered on the floor realizing that the tears that left my eyes weren't the way poetry had made them seem, it was red before it was love and they words before they were poetic. nothing ends in poetry, it ends, and the ink stained pages and screens with dried up tears turn it into poetry.
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diaryofrey · 9 days
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the complete poems of Emily Dickinson
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diaryofrey · 14 days
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Ugh no this isn't a question but I despise you for making me like poetry. Your words are wonderful 🫣
aww thank youu and id apologize but we love spreading the poetic agenda one day at a time🫶🏻
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diaryofrey · 14 days
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"i love you till death do us part", "i love you to the moon and back", shut up, i love you till we disintegrate and decompose, when we are mere micro organisms, when we are specks of dust mixing up with the soil, when we are 6 feet underground and rotting or are intertwined with the wind or laced with the water as ashes, i'll love you with every bit of my soul. no death can make my affections for you part. stand on my grave and pour your name, ink your being on my cerement, fill it with the essence of you for i know that my affections for you will keep me alive, i love you till we are skin and bones and remainders of who we use to be. even in death will you continue to be the marrow of life for me.
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diaryofrey · 15 days
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its beautiful how i ended up going from believing that i was written only to recite poetry about tragic love stories, the kind where she falls in love with the most unlovable of all and writes their stories, turn them into poetry, show them what love felt like only to watch their call being diverted to someone else, to end with a 'wrong number' or 'who's this ?' when they called; to, realizing that poetry holds beauty but words don't simply form poetry, I could always be the poet but the poem comes in different languages, mine comes with words and his comes with midnight kitchen dances. it's beautiful how i went from from believing that i need to write and re-write history and tragedies until the ink from my pens run out and I'm forced to look at the world without the idea of it solely being a solid time out . the idea of love was a paper card house until it got glued it together and made me realize that it was worth much more. my heart had sails, and you are its shore, its because of that you start realizing that patroclus wasn't lying when he said that he'd recognize achillies' with touch alone
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diaryofrey · 19 days
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my favorite troupe is when the person who thinks that they would always remain the observer and never the obsession, the ones who think that they were destined to forever be the poet and never the poem is found by a person who loves them so loudly that they turn into a poem, the muse to the musician. in a world filled with temporary and unemotional transactions in the name of love, my favorite troupe is someone rejecting the fates if time doesn't offer them their beloved's hand to hold. it's doodles on the sand of love being engulfed by the ocean of their being, hugging and clinging onto every last grain of sand. it's making someone who feels as though they are incredibly difficult to love and need to dilute themselves to be adored that they are the only chemical reaction that their partner's mind adores.
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diaryofrey · 22 days
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my love language is simple, it's loud and kind, it makes me happy seeing you smile. peel a lychee for me, and i'll peel a pomegranate for you, stare at the night sky with me, and you'll catch me looking at you. it's a 50 - 50 give and take, take me to an art gallery and find me holding onto you for dear life because you're the most valuable piece of art in the room, paint a smile on me and i'll colour the skies blue. i think its safe to say that my life is like a journal filled with the doodles of cherished versions of you.
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diaryofrey · 22 days
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"we go gym", yes we do and you almost got it right, we'll go anywhere your heart follows, anywhere your lips turn into a smile, we'll go where the sunset turns into a sunrise and where the moon meets your eyes. i'll go where you go, you can walk and i'll follow. so, hold my hand, look up at the sky and don't be surprised when you catch me looking at you instead of the starry nights.
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diaryofrey · 28 days
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“Hold your head up high. You’re doing well, I am proud of you.”
— Unknown
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diaryofrey · 1 month
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