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#spilled tears
influencedgenetics · 27 minutes ago
In the middle of the night, when we get up after making love, we look at each other in complete friendship, we know so fully what the other has been doing. Bound to each other like mountaineers coming down from a mountain, bound with the tie of the delivery-room, we wander down the hall to the bathroom, I can hardly walk, I hobble through the granular shadowless air, I know where you are with my eyes closed, we are bound to each other with huge invisible threads, our sexes muted, exhausted, crushed, the whole body a sex—surely this is the most blessed time of my life, our children asleep in their beds, each fate like a vein of abiding mineral not discovered yet. I sit on the toilet in the night, you are somewhere in the room, I open the window and snow has fallen in a steep drift, against the pane, I look up, into it, a wall of cold crystals, silent and glistening, I quietly call to you and you come and hold my hand and I say I cannot see beyond it. I cannot see beyond it.
True Love - Sharon Olds
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notsopinkconfessions · 53 minutes ago
The Chance of a Small Eternity
I rarely think -or write- about death.
An incomplete 
An instant 
where life
simply stops.
A concept
I’ve never feel
keen of.
death is also
the simple basis 
of everything
Every second, every minute,
every laugh and tear,
every kiss and caress,
every pain and fight,
are more precious
because one day we’ll die.
What you feel in this moment,
you will never feel again.
What is happening in this instant
you will never live again.
In the wink of a life
death arrives
but the in-between
is precious
because it’ll end.
No moment will be lovelier
than the gift of this instant.
Nothing is more precious
than the abundant opportunity
the in-between is. 
The chance of a small eternity.
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brokendreams111 · an hour ago
I stayed way longer than I was supposed to. I take responsibility for it. On my defense, my soul was tied to yours. I deposited all my dreams in you. For loving you I was willing to fight alone against the world.
You found me when I was hurting and you fixed me only to leave me in pieces again. I have forgiven you but I cant seem to forget the pain.
Remember that big snowstorm we had in February? I was frozen shoveling the snow outside while you was cleaning her driveway. I am capable of handling life by myself but that doesnt take away the fact that it hurts to be this lonely while you claim to love me.
I must have heard you say a thoudand times how well you are doing financially and Im happy for you but I wish you knew at times I struggled so hard to barely survive... Where was your love? Where was your love when you moved on with your life like I had died?
On Sundays you pump her gas while I pump my own. I woke up in an emergency room covered in tubes, tears running down my face I stared at the empty chair beside me. Where was your love?
I cried my soul out in my car on my birthday, a birthday you forgot two years in a row. I cried my soul on my Dad's death anniversary because I didn't have a shoulder to lean on. Yes I am strong but it doesnt mean it doesnt hurt to be alone.
Forgive me if now when you tell me how much you love me all I hear is empty words. Words can be beautiful, they are what I live for but when it comes to love, words need to match your actions.
Dont tell me you love me when you forgot about me. Dont tell me you love me when it was easy to let me go. Dont tell me you love me if you lay down every night next to someone else while I cant even imagine being close to someone ever again. Love must be a foreign concept for you.
You will look for me in every woman that you encounter for I not only touched your flesh, my love touched your soul everytime I made love to you.
Dont act like I didnt fight for you.. for us.. I did and for a very long time so forgive me now if Im exhausted.
Its certain I will love you until my last day with my last breath but my heart finally accepted I wasnt the one you wanted.
~ YB
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influencedgenetics · 6 hours ago
🌟 - poetry or novels?
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19 • 4 • 2021
I adore poetry, I love novels too and I get incredibly attached to them, however poetry can make me feel in a way nothing else can. It's like listening to your favourite song, but having it be able to be interpreted in different ways depending on who hears it. Poetry can have different meanings to anybody and I think that that is one of the most romantic things of all time. People all the way across the world can be as touched by the rhymes and lines as you are, and yet have nothing in common to how it makes them feel. It's a sort of bonding that pulls us together, even though we all seem far apart. When the rain is spattering down gently on the window and even though the weather is grey outside, the poetry that we seem can warm us in ways that are unimaginable to others. Being able to share your favourites and hear how wonderful human's imaginations are is just beautiful.
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Tonight is one of those rare nights
The moon is visible from my window
I looked up and I found the moon already looking at me
Waiting for me to notice her
With her unflattering beauty and unwavering brightness
Radiating silent promises of comfort and safety for the night
Promises to watch over me as I sleep
Promises to hold all my secret desires for my love
And you, my love, knowing we are looking at the same moon brings me a strange sensation
Look at the moon
It is watching us watch the moon in longing for each other
Watching us pray to the moon to watch over each other
Watching us pray to the moon to bring us closer to each other
Look at us seeking its comfort, safety and guidance to one another
- M.M (Midnight Writing)
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nomdeplvme · 7 hours ago
Hierarchical Pain
The heartache is constant, no doubt.
But the thing is, there seems to be a certain hierarchy to it.
I. Abstractness
It’s the most topline of pain but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. It feels like your heart is being squeezed so tightly that it feels unbearable. This comes with the fleeting thought of direct abstractness of factual statements.
“She’s dead.”
“She’s never coming back.”
“We’ll have to eventually move on.”
It’s basic information that comes along with a clench not uncommon for people suffering a great loss. Just when you think it couldn’t get worse, it does because of hyper targeted pain.
II. Hypertargetting
This varies from person to person but true to its name, it feels like it’s directly customized to shoot through the chinks of one’s armor. If acknowledging the basic truth hurts like a clenched heart, hypertargetting feels like daggers being plunged into your chest with the next one more painful than the first.
It’s the kind of pain you experience once you break down the abstractness of death; once the thoughts turn from vague, over-generalized concepts to specific core memories like...
...eggshells reminding you of how she collects these to use as compost for her beloved plants or
...the way she is the designated recipient of parcels being delivered at home or
...seeing her favorite chair to lounge on while playing mobile games or
...noticing her untouched food in the refrigerator
It can also take the shape of last memories especially when it sinks in that you never really thought it would be the last time since it happens regularly - until it doesn’t.
...Like the last time she’ll try your cooking even if it’s goddamn awful or
...the last time she’ll joke saying that your cookie batter looks like your cousin’s poop or
...the last time she’ll wordlessly help you wash the dishes because you’re still busy (and she knows you hate doing the dishes) or
...the last time she’ll split your favorite food with you while playfully trying to get a larger part (when in truth, she’ll selflessly give it once you ask) or
...just the last time she laughs, speaks, breathes.
It becomes 10x more painful because of the knowledge that these associated memories can never be replicated. Being reminded of these results to body-wracking sobs that clogs up your throat that you can’t even make a sound. All you can do is try to hold yourself together until you can catch your breath again.
It sounds terrible but the worst is yet to come.
III. Shared grief
This one feels like drinking Gorgon’s blood at the same time. It’s the most painful one of all that it feels like poison, yet it’s something that can help you keep it together and eventually heal, at the very best sense of the word.
I have no idea how shared grief feels like lessening the burden you carry and simultaneously hit so much harder. When multiple people are in mourning, they are there to provide support and comfort to one another but directly seeing other people experience the exact same pain you’re feeling can end up amplifying the hurt a hundredfold because it can feel like you’re grieving for yourself and for others.
Some people deal with grief by crying it out fully and most times, even hysterically. It’s a fast burning flame that comes in bursts and leaves a person physically and emotionally exhausted afterwards.
Meanwhile, some people deal with grief silently, crying in their own spaces and trying to keep it together in front of other people. Still, you can see the brokenness in their eyes and feel the sadness in their souls. It hurts because sometimes, the best you can do is to give them a look that says “I understand your pain and I’m here for you.”
I think the worst of it comes when you’re in a place so thickly shrouded with silent grief and the quietness gets pierced by heart-crushing cries of the people experiencing any of these three. 
Regardless of the type, it all boils down to the fact that there is no easy way to cope and handle this emotion. There’s no shortcuts. The only way is through feeling every single pain and sorrow. Only then can you start to piece yourself back together to the best of your ability even if you know there will always be an unfillable gap here on out and that you will never be completely the same again.
x day 3 x
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sullensouls · 11 hours ago
smoke signals
there goes the echoes of a gunshot, a whistle, a shout from somewhere in the woods, permeating all throughout; maybe these tranquil-colored walls resemble the wilderness but the only spaces where uncertainty lingers are in the hollow of my eyes and the tip of my fingers; bloodshot and unsteady— this is how I'll begin three puffs of smoke, do you see through the screen?
(I don’t know how to ask for help. I’m sorry.)
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sixsixtysixinkblots · a day ago
Watch "Sci-Fi Short Film: "System Error" | DUST" on YouTube
Dust is so awesome. I love their short films and I recommend them to anyone going through shit loads of stress. I love you george. I really really do.
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aestheticapollo · a day ago
Air Castles
I feel loved
And hated
It’s the same old contemplations
Same guilt and frustrations
In my head
I’m praying
I’ve been told I’m needing saving
Hoping that he’ll change me
Cause I hate thinking
I will lose them all
Worried bout my soul
In case it isn’t false
Why me why me why me
I’ve tried but I’m still here asking why
Why do these things keep happening to me
Why do better days feel so out of reach
Why do these things keep happening to me
Are we almost there to the castles in the air
20 years
Self hating
The only thing I’m changing
Is the way I see me
And to live pain free
Through the darkness I’m escaping
And I know it’ll be amazing
Cause I hate feeling
Fucking miserable
I was never flawed
I can be just who I want
Why me why me no why not me
I’ve tried But I’m still here asking why
Why do these things keep happening to me
Why do better days feel so out of reach
Why do these things keep happening to me
Are we almost there to the castles in the air
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junkdotexe · a day ago
Stop showing tenderness to wolves. Do you really expect kindness? They'll eat you alive if you give them the chance.
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nomdeplvme · 2 days ago
Mathematics of Grief
How do you even measure grief? In the volume of tears shed by those left behind? In the collective count of people mourning? In the number of times you said -      - “this food tastes like cardboard”?
Do you measure it by the memories,     the what-ifs, the regrets? Do you measure it by the wasted plans,     the broken hopes and dreams?
How do you even measure grief? An emotion so intense, cradled with pain and sadness     and anger and exhaustion But an emotion never without love because      how can you grieve someone you don’t care for?     how can you feel the loss if not over something         you so desperately want to keep?
So how do you even measure grief? How do you compute and cope?
x day 2 x
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sixsixtysixinkblots · 2 days ago
I'm finished. I am just finished. There is no way and nothing that can be done anymore. I can't memorize more. I am just staring at a book and wishing for death.
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writermaze · 2 days ago
Just because i choose to heal in silence and don’t let anyone know my pain ,
People took me as the bad person and made me regret being me .
Was it really my mistake ? That i never had a habit of putting the dirt on others ?, that i never told people when it hurt me too?, that some decisions that i made weren’t easy for me too? Or the fact that i never really consider my feelings important to speak out loud ?
Was it really my mistake?
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coffeesimmer · 2 days ago
Obviously today is going to be a day that all I want to do is sob.
Can't someone just hold me in their lap and tell me it'll be okay, then we can watch movies and cuddle.
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yourmariaclara · 2 days ago
I don’t know how other people do it, you know? Leaving without saying any word even a fucking goodbye. How can they do it like we never made them happy, like as if we were not once the reason behind their smile, like their world never once revolved to us? Because me? I cannot see myself being able to do that.
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