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#spilled prose
maddisjournal · an hour ago
I have never experienced love reciprocated with the same selflessness and intensity as I love others.
11:58pm / may 12, 2021
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srishti12 · an hour ago
Once a royal princess,
Now a fierce warrior.
Soon those luxuries
Became hurdles.
Challenges to vanquish.
Miseries to withstand.
All those jewels adorned
Needed to be surrendered,
To the rigid armours
And pointed blades.
All those battles fought
Against life,
Seem to have contoured the face.
Won’t conceal,
Much rather manifest them…..
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letters-from-alex · an hour ago
“To the boy with green eyes.”
How funny, that it seems that I am drawn to boys with green eyes, and although I’ve been writing about one that holds a piece of my heart to this day, I can’t help but wonder that maybe, just maybe, not all my letters were to him, but to another boy with green eyes who’s waiting for my gaze to meet his for the very first time.
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sinceristly · 2 hours ago
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You remind me of Wednesdays in February. It doesn’t really matter whether what year it is or anything.
You just do.
February 12th. I recall spacing out after seeing the yellow light turned red and quickly shifted your eyes on your face when we were on our way to find yourself a pebble a couple of days before Valentine’s. I only looked at you as you talk about how penguins look for the smoothest pebbles to give their mates as present, but you had to tell me that twice because I did not take it the first time.
February 6th. You sang along to the song you dislike most in my playlist while you were waiting for a call that you never received from the guy who was supposed to ask you to spare some time for a job interview. Well, you only got it the day after.
February 14th. The first time you grabbed my hand and intertwined it with yours to see if it fits perfectly. Years have passed, and I still could not escape from the gaze you gave me when you asked what’s the point of spending all your time with someone whose hands are too huge for yours to fit at all.
February 10th. “Wednesdays are the worst.” Those words came out of your mouth the second you lay your foot on the bedroom floor and found out it was raining after it took you hours to spruce up for an important dinner.
You feebly rested your head on my shoulder, and I had no choice but to sit in silence as I caress the strands of your hair for you to simmer down. You looked up to me and showed perhaps not the brightest of your smiles when things go exactly your way, but it was the one that casts off even the insignificant burdens I have; my best-loved.
“Wednesdays... aren’t so bad at all.”
You said, then you grasped my hand and squeezed yourself into me, enough to make the both of us feel the radiating comfort.
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manderson1970060 · 4 hours ago
she spoke longingly, of autumn leaves, so painfully radiant that they glowed beneath her gray skies, from mortar she built temples to shadow, her luminous spirit still unknown to herself, but spilling like oceans from a poetess tongue, ancient lineage of hearts beyond clouds
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manderson1970060 · 4 hours ago
the sacred remembrance, of who you truly are, your body a temple, your spirit the altar
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stopthesefools-blog · 5 hours ago
from the point of view of the parasite
as we sit beside each other
i get this horribly delicious feeling
of a deep yearning to reside within her
like a wasp curled up rotting within a fig
i long so much it aches
so deeply so strongly
that my solar plexus melts into boiling water
to be in the core of her!
in the very beating heart
and slowly consumed by the fibers of her being
to stare too long at the smooth slope of her forehead
as it dives into the quick right hook of her nose
would be to turn myself into a wave
stretching out reaching so desperate
to dash my body against the gleaming sharp rocks of a cliff
a religious sacrifice to become the dissolved salt
in the bead of sweat apon her lip
her teeth drag the inside of my throat
her hands wrap around my stomach
yank the organ down- a pulling
so close to dread
ill allow it
if only this was symbiosis
if only we had evolved together
if only we were specially created
to exist within each other
in some perfect natural way
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manderson1970060 · 5 hours ago
do you recognize yourself, in reflections of soft morning mists, the lady of the lake resurfaced, a talisman yet to be claimed in modern days
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manderson1970060 · 5 hours ago
eons of endless whispering, metamorphosis of the soul, poetic muses, echoes of ancient Sanskrit, and the divine gods meet me there
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manderson1970060 · 5 hours ago
hymns, blessed beyond all knowing, forfeiture of paradigms, that shrivel in the midday sun
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manderson1970060 · 5 hours ago
another star seed, grafting of luminous planets, breathing in the dust of forgotten universes, so it ends and it begins, forever and ever and ever
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manderson1970060 · 5 hours ago
in this, the infinite stream, a portal to immortal consciousness, through subtle dreams, glimpses of your real self, intent granted at will, just slower here and more solid, on this beautiful Earth
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kiramalibu · 7 hours ago
when we were younger
he allowed me to draw
sunflowers on his jeans
but the last time i saw
him the stems were falling apart
at the seams
you tell me that you won’t
ever forgive me but don’t know
how to stop loving me
and expect me to decipher
what that means
i’m sorry for all the trouble that i bring
i never asked you to stay and
so i don’t understand why i was so
shocked when i watched you leave
kira malibu
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spilled-prose · 8 hours ago
There  are  a  litany  of  things  I  wish  to  tell  you.  A  string  of  nothing  I  compile  each  day  into  a  file  stored  behind  my  fingerprints.  I  read  your  letters  in  the  bathtub  with  the  door  locked,  beneath  a  weeping  willow  and  her  limp  tendrils,  hiding  me  from  the  world  I'm  afraid  of.  The  brown  moleskine  journal  looked  inviting  in  the  wash  of  tangerine,  the  battered  old  thing,  you  left  it  behind  and  it  has  been  collecting  dust  since.  So  I  read  it  through  as  the  sun  bled  into  the  horizon,  giving  birth  to  cotton  candy  skies,  reading  things  that  hugged  my  heart  in  a  profound  way.  Here  I  am  in  a  forest  of  loneliness.  A  green  forest,  but  there  is  too  much  green  and  fern,  the  lonely-sick  could  kill  me.
If  I  could  have  I  would  have  looked  at  your  things,  my  things,  and  thought,  here  are  his  crumpled  socks  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  here  are  my  socks,  here  is  his  piano,  his  hands  are  still  dancing  across  the  keys  though  not  attached  to  him,  here  are  my  hands  on  the  keys,  attached  to  him.  Here  is  his  collection  of  snow  globes,  my  globes,  he,  we  accumulated  as  tourist  trinkets,  now  tossed  in  a  banana  box.  There  is  his  Wilde  poetry  books  still  shelved  in  my  bookcase,  and  there  is  his  box  of  broken  promises  laying  in  the  corner  of  the  dislocated  room. 
Your  echo  still  recites  poems  to  me  whilst  I  pummel  dough  into  cherry  pie,  wipe  the  blood-like  stains  on  my  apron,  you  asked  if  they  were  blood;  it  stains  our  teeth  like  blood,  the  cherries  appear  as  blood  clots,  and  the  seeds  are  stuck  on  the  crowns  and  molars,  like  perished  sailors  strewn  over  jagged  rocks.  You  had  brown  eyes  because  you  belonged  to  the  earth.  Brown  ringed  with  gold  edges  in  astronomical  light.  My  ghost  longs  for  those  dragonfly  days  of  summer  skin,  flushed  and  lustre,  strawberries  and  cream  from  your  point  of  view.  I'm  always  out  there  searching  for  you  and  only  finding  your  old  trinkets.  A  rusted  typewriter  threatens  to  collapse  under  the  pressure  of  my  fingers,  I  think  about  sending  you  one  last  letter.  I  think  about  words  that  will  marinate  in  your  skull  like  orange  peels  left  to  decompose  in  the  fruit  bowl,  on  the  kitchen  counter.
Your  teeth  will  erode  and,  like  the  flesh  of  an  apricot  or  plum,  your  flesh  and  bones  will  degenerate  and  wizen,  until  then,  I  will  continue  to  own  your  trinkets.
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