Nayyirah Waheed, from Nejma
[Text ID: “all the women. / in me. / are tired.”]

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Nayyirah Waheed, from Nejma
[Text ID: “all the women. / in me. / are tired.”]

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Kaveh Akbar, from "Heritage", Calling a Wolf a Wolf
Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena
May your heart be mine, may my heart be yours. May your sorrows be mine, may my joys be yours.
Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni, Oleander Girl (via quotespile)

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It comes over us that we shall never again hear the laughter of our friend, that this garden is forever locked against us. And at that moment begins our true grief.
Lauren Groff, Fates and Furies (via quotespile)
gif request meme★ @gwenparkrs asked for hart of dixie + favorite familial relationship
Every month, Earl cashes the government check,and then heads straight for the liquor store. Then he gets drunk and he climbs up on that roof. And every month, his son comes and sings him down.

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The problem of living. The problem of living in spite of it all. The problem of changing the larger world if we can’t change ourselves. The problem of changing ourselves, if we can’t change the larger world. The problem of existing in this world anyway. The problem of not existing.
— Mattilda Bernstein Sycamore, from The Freezer Door (via lifeinpoetry)
From VSCO
Hello. Apologies for the request. I don’t want to bother.
Do you happen to know poems themed around the color red?
Thank you so very much.
a dark red season, you delete from me all other colours
margaret atwood, from power politics; hesitations outside the door.
I am not good, I do not strive / for it. I am quiet, unmerited / bleak. I am tragic and the sky / appears red.
camille rankine, from incorrect merciful impulses
I turned around and saw the sky. It was red and all my life was in it.
jean rhys, from wide sargasso sea
anne carson, from autobiography of red
geryon was a monster everything about him was red, kit mills
Red. I have been angry this week. Christian said, Trust your anger. It is a demand for love. Or it is red. Red is a thing
I can trust—a monster and her wings, cattle grazing the sandstone hills like flames.
Caboose cars were once red, and also the best parts of the trains— the heal and shake of what promised to pass. Finally, the red and end of them.
Maybe this living is a balance of drunkenness off nitrogen and the unbearable atmosphere of memory.
natalie diaz, from postcolonial love poem; “isn’t the air also a body, moving?”
Abstain from the field, from the hollow bones earth, the thick bones of winter. Abstention means abandon. Means sorrow. Means remember. Forgetting means the red wings smother the grass, means the shell of an ear on a mountain of bark.
donika kelly, from bestiary: poems
you stand red-handed. you want to wash yourself in earth, in rocks and grass
what are you supposed to do with all this loss?
margaret atwood, from morning in the burned house; “down”
natalie diaz, from postcolonial love poem; “isn’t the air also a body, moving?”
siri hustvedt, from notes on seeing
... I will never know how you see red and you will never know how I see it.
anne carson, from autobiography of red
Blue is for cruel bargains; green is for daring what you oughtn't; violet is for brute force. I will say to you: Coral coaxes; pink insists; red compels.
catherynne m. valente, from deathless
There is only one thing I fear in life, my friend... One day the black will swallow the red.
john logan, from his play, red
anne carson, from autobiography of red
Heart on fire, ashes everywhere — there’s no return from a red like that.
manuel de freitas, from “fado menor”, tr. richard zenith
I wondered / what I would look like if the darkened chambers of my body were unlocked. What streams of light might escape me and reveal / about the things I collect and hide, and is there a difference / between aperture and wound.
Natalie Diaz, from Postcolonial Love Poem; “Cranes, Mafiosos, and a Polaroid Camera” (via luthienne)

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Things happen and we are changed by them, as we are by each other. Sometimes, it is not fair. Other times, the moon rises and we become.
Beyond Survival, ‘Still Life’ by Aditi Nagrath (via decreation)
Camille Preaker + character tropes.
‘’I’m here, I said, and it felt shockingly comforting, those words. When I’m panicked, I say them aloud to myself. I’m here. I don’t usually feel that I am. I feel like a warm gust of wind could exhale my way and I’d be disappeared forever, not even a sliver of fingernail left behind. On some days, I find this thought calming; on others it chills me.’’