I've been making space 🍀
I see you in places you've never inhabited ~ march poetry prompt by @lettersfrrompersephone on Instagram

"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
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he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
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@ashvees
I've been making space 🍀
I see you in places you've never inhabited ~ march poetry prompt by @lettersfrrompersephone on Instagram

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March is such a fickle month. It is the seam between winter and spring—though seam suggest an even hem, and MARCH is more like a rough line of stitches sewn by an unsteady hand, Swinging wildly between January gusts and June greens. You don't know what you'll find, until you step outside. ESTELE used to call these the restless days, when the warmer blooded gods began the stir, and the cold one's began to settle. When dreamers were prone to bad ideas, and wanderers were likely to get lost.
-The Invisible life of Addie Larue
Hanif Abdurraqib, The Crown Ain't Worth Much

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Czeslaw Milosz, from "Ars Poetica?"
Left Uninspired
There are no more words left to write,
No more coherent thoughts strung together
To create poetry of beauty and rhythmic glory.
Nothing new under the sun, or over it, or through it.
Nothing nuanced or infatuating, clever, or surreal.
Just boring letters in boring order,
And a mind that’s burnt its wheels.
All my talent spent on a love
That ran away like a dog let out a gate.
Left me with empty arms and a heart full of shame,
Asking why, and what could change?
And why did you have to be so happy?
A new adventure every day—Dora the Explorer with a different name.
I’m stuck in the mud with the same old things.
They’re not vintage or rustic,
But worn out and decrepit.
And I would have left, but my
Pockets are currently vacant,
And my bank account is making space for new things.
My gas tank’s favorite letter is E,
And I’m too tired, so I’ll just leave.
October 6,2025 @walkingparadoximok
over it october. no energy november. defeated december..

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What Is Love, Anyway?
It's the daylight in the darkness
and the way you hold me-
embracing all my sharpness.
It's in the quiet hush
that follows our almost surrender,
when I ask softly, "What is love, anyway?"
and you slowly whisper my name
as if it were an answer.
It's in the way my words have become yours
and you silly little habits mine,
like kissing the top of our hands
when they accidently touch-
that way, we will never fight.
It's in the sweet nothings
or when we dance atop the counters,
it's in the way I smooth out the creases of your shirt
or the way you always hug me tighter.
It's in the warmth when you're near
and the burning of my heart when you're gone,
it's the patience of your silence,
despite the fact that I still don't know.
"What is love, anyway?"
I ask, and your smile grows wider.
Maybe it's the slow unraveling of my world
whenever I realize-
that my name remains your only answer.
-Ash
The greatest tragedy of my life is not the absence of love. But the certainty that none will ever match the intensity with which I carry it.
Too Far Gone
I was joining the moles on your chest,
drawing constellations,
when I first noticed that you liked me back.
It was a lazy day.
We had just woken up to the sound of rain
splattering on your bedroom window.
You were holding your breath so tightly,
like one wrong move would shatter the moment.
Your hands were tangled in my hair,
your chest rose and fell with every careful breath.
And when you quietly whispered my name,
like a silent plea,
like a promise,
I knew something had changed.
We weren’t supposed to be so far gone.
We weren’t supposed to be so tangled in each other.
You weren’t supposed to kiss my forehead every time you left.
I wasn’t supposed to smooth out the wrinkles in your nicest blue shirt.
Our deal was already broken
the first night when you asked me to stay.
It was over
when you held me through a quiet breakdown I didn't mean to have.
We didn’t realize when the space between our laughs and silences started to feel like home.
No one had ever spoken my name like that before.
I'd kissed you then.
slow, unrushed, in response, in surrender,
begging you to never let me go.
Just hold me and
And kiss me slow..
The Stars Keep Laughing.
The things he says undo me. They pierce the heavily guarded wall and slither right into the core of my heart. They fill every nook and corner inside me with feelings. Uninvited, unrelenting, but strangely relieving. My soul wants to claw out of my skin to touch his. I want to tie our fates together, with a red string myself, because destiny is never kind to us. The stars keep laughing. The Universe always keeps us separated. The distance mocks us. Our time apart is atrocious. Tormenting. But he comes back. Always. like a ritual. Like I'm a prayer his soul can't stop whispering. Definitely not fate but a conscious choice. And crawling back to each other, it feels like homecoming. The almost confessions. The quiet yearning. The bond between us never breaks; it just bends and stretches into a new shape. Love was supposed to be a sweet little feeling. But falling for him showed me that it's the most excruciating thing I've ever experienced. Love was supposed to bring out the softest parts of me. But it has only made me stronger. So, so much stronger that now, I will bend the will of the Universe itself. I'll rewrite the stars. I'll break into a thousand little pieces and scatter myself across the ocean. Only to reach him. Oh, God. Just to reach him.
And if there's no thread, I'll grab a red string and tie it myself.

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IF THIS IS LOVE....
If this is love, let it break me again. Let it shatter me into pieces. In pieces, I find my life worth living. In echoes of what once was, still breathing. If this is love, let it ruin me completely. Let it bruise my skin with scars. These scars I would wear like badges of devotion. Etched deep where your fingers once carved. If this is love, let it consume me. Let it have my body, my mind, my soul. For what good a love is, if it doesn't crack you right open and swallow you whole. If this is love, let it be the reason of my damnation. Let it make me fall from grace. Let it be my religion, my undoing, let it be my eternal disgrace. If the thing between us is love, let it make me believe in every promise of yours, that probably is fake. In every touch, every feeling that leaves destruction in its wake. Let it make me feel like you want me, even if you never stay. Giving me a taste of eternity, you know i'll crave. Let this love heal me, every time you walk away. Let it prepare me to walk into our beautiful tarnation, in all my prime, yet again. And if this is love, let it wreck me, let it burn me, let it cut me up and bleed me dry. Because pain is the price I will pay once more, if it means, even for a moment,that you are mine.
I was laughing with my brother over a mundane thing.
Really, openly laughing.
And my mother suddenly said from the kitchen, "Don't laugh too much, or you'll have to cry." She was serious, her voice was laced with worry.
And it made me pause and really, really think. Life is so fickle. You're laughing one moment and the next moment you might have to cry. You're happy, but there is a fear inside your chest that this moment will be over soon.
How do people live in the moment? How do you let the feeling of happiness wash all over you, without being afraid of the future? How do you know that you deserve to be happy?