inlovewritenow
inlovewritenow
inlovewritenow
love letters x
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inlovewritenow · 5 days ago
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When I Was Little.
i used to eat tinily
rationing a biscuit
sucking baby cow head
and licking the m in malted milk
until smooth.
the mouldy pillowcases
and the wet tv
was my first nap.
i pushed stickers
on to the wallpaper
when everyone slept.
slutting in my ears
a sound
with my tongue clicks
to hear something.
on the toy laptop, I imagine googling.
i line the animals up,
in order of favourites.
they don't know better.
after school i'm talking to myself,
the stories haven't changed much
except now i am in love.
my wrists snap
as i count to three
two bites on the left cheek
one on the right.
i dream of stabbing myself with a ds pen.
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inlovewritenow · 7 days ago
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An Extract
Felix is talking something unimportant, his dagger chin nudging the rim of the tank. I uh-huh, mostly at the creature between us. It says nothing. I toe tap half-moons upon the bobbling carpet flamingoing to where a door never lived.
“-I’ll be back on the weekends, you know?” he sorries.
“I know.”
There is new paint. It crouches about my lungs and I’m toward it, neon drywall. It’s sickening, plushing concrete with slabby highlighter. He is at my side, standing on his heels like he learned to when we were little, nails sinking into a foam handle.
“I’ll pick up Trombone Daydream on the way home.”
“Huh?”
“It’s like… an electric canary? Like lemon but brighter.”
“Ok.”
“I’ll miss you.”
“Uh huh.”
He tugs his suitcase wonkily so it zig zags behind him like an impassioned tail and flattens himself against the wall, side-drifting through the sticky door into a stickier taxi.
Then, there he is. A too busy grin, teeth clacking together at “in” and “come”. He is halfway through the window, brogues wet with box-flower nectar. Sebastian Obligae Balk, with hair longer than his name, straggles in my ear hole, a warbling prod of raffle.
“They don’t want me anymore, they’re after you.”
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inlovewritenow · 8 days ago
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a favourite!
“When there's nothing left, but you and me and the wind”
we make journals with sleeping hands  /  soft bottles hiding in good storms, plain cupboards, misspelled and mispronounced stair cases  /  i forget the rest but i’ve seen graveyards that were the softest thing….softer than your eyes, edith  /  and i don’t want this to hurt you i just want you to know that i’m more of a person than the last time you cupped my head in your hands  /  the day i walked post-drowning and had to smile to my friends  /  i don’t blame you or taunt your visage in the dark of my broken room, i just hope you’re a little kinder to people now  -  especially your lovers and your tender friends  /  i will be happy with a life half-lived if you give me this opportunity to walk by the one last lonely streetlight in the neighborhood and whisper benediction (for joe)
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inlovewritenow · 9 days ago
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A Love Letter to Nightmares
Dearest Nightmares,
You tell me too much. Clattering in muddle and shouty emotion, you pulse spooled fingertips on my ribs. Then it’s your breath. Panicky and stuck all about my chest, you dizzy the clasp of my throat. Maybe this would hurt a different heart but mine dips through your words, open and utilitarian.
It rushes apart the best nonsense, the happenings that make me care… then pots them in bullets. You are what I write. I feel the spite as you read and know you know this already. Oh, your famous premonition! So you’re gone again I suppose.
Morning sweat and vague fear, drip feed me it again soon. Everything is finger-painted beige and my eyes are being shut. You are putting together story somewhere nearby, you are in me and yet I wish you were closer.
Your Love x
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inlovewritenow · 10 days ago
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A Love Letter to New Starts
Dearest New Starts,
I like to think this time will be the best. I like the little parts of you, especially the naming. I like your consistent newness and the goodbye that precedes. Your empty-screen, egg shell, concrete footprint smells like a thousand first bites.
I tried to find you by ridding myself, of things and thoughts and me. When it was all gone, the way I pronounce “love”, the blood of my politics, the curve of my nose… you still weren’t here. What will it take to bring you back to me? I think you want my hair dyed and gut clean. When I change my bedding and dry clean my coat, or throw away my blood-stained clothes, I see your outline. Then, since you’ve left, I do too. Away from functional and into the laze of everyday.
You are without ruin. I can’t fuck you up, not this early. That is why everyone wants you so bad. I am greedy for you every sunrise. Come along, deliver me the privilege of change. Here I am, hating the middle more than the end and missing you more than every hello I’ve ever felt.
 Your Love x
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inlovewritenow · 11 days ago
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A Love Letter to a Hart’s Tongue Fern
Dearest Hart’s Tongue Fern,
At first I wanted you to leave. You’d been in the shadow, spreading your limbs so secretly, it scared me to see, after so many seasons, your mile long reach. But, as you untwisted, after I learned who you were, I liked you a little too much to kick out. I knelt at your side, breathing in your dark and harsh home, pleased by your simple shiver.
I want to find you out. To slice at the mystery tucked beneath you. Your spread curls hide it though, in prehistoric patterning. I’m nervous of your overlapping fragility, how if I tripped upon you, you’d snap in a hundred places. Maybe I’ll keep out your way.
Then it is sunny and you are unchanged, stretched and still in the shade. That is when I want to bring you inside… as much as I want you to run away.
Your Love x
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inlovewritenow · 15 days ago
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A Love Letter to Room Corners
Dearest Room Corners,
There you are being, trying not to. Who I look at and do not see. You speak nothing to my ideas, mumbling just within my skull, though I promise you could guess if you wanted to. Too, you shut me up… so easily. You’ve boxed in gold, all my stranger’s voices because you know my forgetting you helps with the listening.
Crouching shallow when things are pointless is when I look at you. Always where I am and where I left you, wearing dust. When the tears are tripping and my skin starts to steal your cobwebs, you make louder your stillness. That settles me a little. Enough to make me look away.
Maybe we won’t see each other for a while. Of course you’re there, but only on the crowd outline. This is how we are but I’ll be in front of you again soon, looking. Isn’t that enough?
Your Love x
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inlovewritenow · 16 days ago
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A Love Letter to Changing Weather
Dearest Changing Weather,
I enjoy your differences, especially when you move. It is something magic, your so much falling. I am upon a windowsill, watching you float and you choose not to notice me. Today you dangle your blues and greys and I do as you show me. I stitch ouch to my thighs, gravel canvas and bitey denim but you just laugh at me, a long contented hum.
Or maybe you sigh? Your sounds, because they are not words, bounce like flesh, familiar and newly bruised. I wish for your newness, the shiny of your being, which you name novelty. Just as I learn your mood you are at once different and I do not mourn your old self. I love you all and miss none of you as you drag and wander and stumble.
Yet I must admit, you are not always convenient. Some days you are uninteresting. Pavement still, your breaths are barely and hardly and not. I think not of you on these days, instead I build tiny fires from flower petals and scribbles. Then, when you are pretty enough, I am in you again.
I let you see my skin, only when you are at your brightest. And then, not so long that you can hurt me. My eyes are shut to your dances and, though it annoys you, I enjoy your wooly anxiety just as much.
I heard you’ve got a fever. I can taste it in your temper. I am only a little sorry, as the fault mostly isn’t my own. It’s a shame the glow of you burning up feels so good.
Your Love x
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inlovewritenow · 18 days ago
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A Love Letter to Twilight
I decide to be in love quite easily tonight. There is some nonsense, it roars and splashes on my burned lap. Thank you for your patience because when I try to play it back, my mind skips to the end, bored with what I already know like an answered question. I dream of your pace, even with its silliness… and blink at your everything. Hurt is addictive when it’s someone else’s, you prove quietly. Bring on the crooked smiles please, that stray creature of mouths.
Yes, tell me about her forehead and his kisses upon them. I am laughing at you and feeling with you and when I say I wish I met you sooner, I mean it like it’d have been nice, but I don’t regret how things are now. We aren’t serious. We will kiss on nights we’ve nothing to do, little else. You are rain and after-eights and distraction. I am one of many and we’ve only just begun.
Sorry I hated you before I met you, so many people said you were the worst. You are dumb and clumsy and over-dramatic, but you are also honest and sweetly ridiculous. I have had on you: sleepy eyes, stray crumbs and nervous fingers. I mock you, reading your mistakes aloud and you shrug, unoffended.
I know you are wrong. You are not how love is. I think you know that. You are what love could be under sad impossibilities, that tug of fun grumpiness we met growing up. Your girl is needlessly prettying portions of her misery and everyone is jealous! Have they already forgotten the upset of fresh love?
Soon,
Your Love x
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