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#excerpts from my heart
lithium-late-nights · 7 months
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Your blade in my back my hands on your neck we called our pain love and danced till the end
song prompt from @dolores-hazy / turnover - dizzy on the comedown / Cole A.
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lost-in-time-marie · 3 months
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I’m an old soul stuck in a modern world.
~K.
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"You never told me. It felt like a betrayal."
"Just because I was screaming underwater doesn't mean I wasn't screaming. You just couldn't hear me."
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darichonne · 1 year
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insta: @darichonne
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schizoetic · 2 months
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"Art is a bridge from one heart to another"
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ladywithahandbook · 3 months
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My own bed feels strange, I just can’t fall asleep without you.
- Lady With A Handbook
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bittarxblack · 1 year
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And suddenly.
Everything hurt again.
- Riv
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Teach me how to be fine when my heart weighs more than the existence of my soul.
August 26th, 2022.
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messsywriter · 1 year
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You always find a way back to me. In words, in movies, in songs, in that coffee shop we used to walk by. In memories. In every posible way, you always come back. And I can’t keep pretending you’re not in every corner I see. In every thought. In every feeling. Your memory is consuming my life. And the worst part? I don’t want you to stop.
- I. A
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maiawrites · 2 years
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Extreme hunger
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poetryofmanya · 7 months
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I need to dump my brain somewhere and vomit out everything I have ever learned. Sit by a river and watch the stream take over my lessons, walk barefoot on the grass, cross all the mountains and valleys of loss and gains. I need to look at the trees without my heart telling my eyes to shut down. I need to look at a monarch butterfly and not judge it's colours. I need to be me over and over again but not be the me that is so broken and so hurt. I need to heal all my wounds before they rot my body down. I need to feel like the sun of my own life. I need to breathe and not crawl in my own skin.
— manya
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lithium-late-nights · 7 months
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I loaded roses in my rifle and pretended to hunt for peace
song prompt from @dolores-hazy / turnover - dizzy on the comedown / Cole A.
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lost-in-time-marie · 7 days
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The Well Is Dry Today, Come Back Another Time
Writing is like some permanent faucet tapped into my soul. It has to come out, if that knob goes untouched, it will burst onwards anyway, spurting uncontrollably and making a mess of me. If you ignore it, don’t attend to it immediately, the swells of water will drown you. And I find, when I leave that faucet running too long, wasting it away on chores and responsibilities, too many dishes and washing all the clothes by hand, the well runs dry. I find myself here, spinning that fixture silly, trying to trigger some recognition, some familiarity, like I’ve lived in this house 26 years and poured over this tap every day. But I’m standing over the sink at a strangers house, and I don’t get so much as a trickle, not even a drop. The pipes rattle and hiss inside the walls and, today, I have no charms, and nothing comes out with all my coaxing.
~K.
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After the death of our daughter - you sought solace in another woman. I guess I wasn't as appealing once I had become a walking grave.
I'll never forget the way you just stared at me, empty-eyed, when I told you how I wanted to jump and kiss the concrete below.
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darichonne · 1 year
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insta: @darichonne
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bixenwrites · 1 year
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i lost
i almost always never know how to admit defeat.
but that night, with just one look into your eyes, i knew.
i was bewitchingly, terribly, crazily, tragically, embarrassingly,
defeated.
- jo bixen
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