You kissed me, and told me you didn’t want me.
I think I’m going to be sick.
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can we do this ^ again please. what the fuck happened? who was this hurting? why did we stop?
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Natalie Díaz, from "American Arithmetic", Postcolonial Love Poem
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Last night
I fucked all night & yet
my fingers were positioned
as you once taught me
my ring finger on the G
& how that instrument
moaned��it crooned
you would’ve been proud
you would’ve given me
a standing ovation—
— Yesenia Montilla, from "Violin," Muse Found in a Colonized Body
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roses that
by D.A. Levy
We wait for the roses that
bloom wait for the roses That
bloom for the roses that
bloom the roses that bloom
bloom roses that bloom bloom
bloom that bloom bloom bloom
bloom
and the roses that never
bloom the roses that never
bloom roses that never
bloom that never bloom
bloom never bloom bloom
bloom
do the roses in my dreams ?
bloom roses in dreams ?
bloom in dreams ? bloom
bloom dreams ? bloom
bloom
while we sit in the shade
they have built a sunflower
that covers cities with
ashes roses that cover
cities while we sit in the
shade they have built a sun
bloom roses that bloom
ash cities while we sit in
the sun they have built a
rose that never that roses
bloom unbeleivable isn’t it
roses that
sat in the shade while we
built dreams that never
bloom we built dreams that
bloom bloom bloom bloom
cities of roses that bloom
to ashes that turn shade
to roses that we sit in
sun light like roses that
we turn into ashes like
roses that
dream
never
bloom
wait
roses
Helen Frankenthaler 1952 Mountains and Sea, Oil and charcoal on unsized, unprimed canvas, National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C.
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Look out at the setting sun
Brink of your vision
Eternal youth
Is the landscape of a lie
The cracks of my skin can prove
As the years will testify
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How many nights
have you laid awake
wondering if life
will ever change?
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Loneliness is–
Posting secrets in 280 characters or less
Screaming for help in the form of a joke
More klonopin than necessary
A case of beer
Netflix
A Spotify playlist of old songs on repeat
Staring at the wall
Pretending to be asleep
Writing letters that will never be sent
Watching the same movies
Reading the same books
Watching people’s faces as they speak but not hearing a word
Loneliness is slow
Loneliness is quiet
Loneliness is everything
Loneliness is nothing
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mr. sandman
make me dream of a time
so golden and so rare
that the lily-lipped children
will sing and dance and cheer
make me dream of an age
so good and just and bright
all the glistening pink flowers
will glow and create light
make me dream of an hour
so imagined and rehearsed
that each second i spend there
throws me further towards the hearse
(photo via)
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