“𝓇ℯ𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎, 𝑖 𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ 𝓎ℴ𝓊.”

Wҽʅƈσɱҽ ƚσ ɱყ ραɠҽ! ｡𖦹°‧₊˚⊹ᰔ~

ɨռȶʀօ: Hello!! My name is Rhiri! I am a teenage girl who loves. I love writing, I love animals, I love books, I love poetry, I love God, I love art, I love humans, I love Earth - and I love you! :]

﹒⭒﹒⭒﹒⭒﹒❤︎⁠﹒⭒﹒⭒﹒⭒﹒

ɨռȶɛռȶ: My goal here on tumblr is to share my writing, poems, thoughts, and stories! I originally intended to use it as a sort of shoebox for storing all my writing, and I will still use it like that! Additionally, I wish for my writing to get out there - for people to see and read my work! But that's only my second priority <3

₍ₘₒᵣₑ ᵢₙfₒᵣₘₐₜᵢₒₙ! ↓↓↓₎

I claw at it, make it seem like fidgeting

With the chain around my neck, but

This ache hides, shielded by my own sternum

Each day, no matter how familiar

It screams in a whisper that curdles my blood;

“unknown."

Echoing from my chest and ringing in my ear

Condemning me to constant fear.

The flavor of blood

no one's but your own

it seeps through your teeth and spills down your throat

for some bitter, some tangy

some salty or sweet

most gag on the taste of copper and zinc

what we do with the love, if we swallow or spit

we remember it's ours, no one else can touch it

until we both open

our wet mouths to bare

our scarlet stained teeth and the blood pooling there

would you unfurl your tongue and let the love drip

from the beat of your heart to the cracks in my lip?

21/06/26

Devotee.

Each day I live is an act of worship to everyone and everything that I love.

21/06/26

Shrine.

- Favouritism at it's Finest: We Call It Love.

Written with my hand's appendages

In a language you can't quite translate

A foreign tongue, but with such familiar

Spacing, similar punctuation, as though

The only difference were dialect

A regional variation between your fingers and mine

Skin samples under my nails, the word is

Clear to me;

Love.

So close, but so far, fron the translation

You derive, the dialect difference an

Unpredictable divide;

Hate.

In a hurry, in a rush,

Flustered language, face of flush.

Wave goodbye, then bite your finger,

Heaven forbid you wait and linger.

But this tether to their soul,

When you're near is when you're full.

Yet you can never bear to stay,

I love this Skyrim glitch. Look at that horse.

Look at his stupid little face. I love him.

Do the clouds love the rain?

Do the clouds loathe the rain?

Do they thunder and rage when the rain pulls away,

Or is it, enraged by rain's existence, they cast it down?

Does the rain love the clouds?

Does the rain loathe the clouds?

Does it spite the the clouds as it falls from the heights,

Or part pleasantly with a sweet kiss goodbye?

Any other elder sisters feel this way?

A faded photograph in hand,

Human eyes struck out in crude slashes

Dancing colours dulled by time,

And by tears

A once familiar face cut out,

Yet still seeming to stare

A dissonance of conflicting souls,

And harmony of shared despair

The voids scream in deafening silence,

Their taunting voices haunt every quiet

Almost.

She woke up one morning, a tune in her head

It stayed in there even after leaving her bed

Sticky and sweet like homemade jam

A mix of so many melodic berries

That it was hard to pick

The name of each fruit inside

Echoing in her ears, ringing like a bell

It sang, clinging to the inside of her skull

She tried to hum along to the voice within

Searching the glass jar for a sticky note

Seeking ingredients handwritten by the singer

But the notes got jumbled in the mix, a mature sound

Familiar but distant, like an aged film recording

The harmony was palpable in her heart

And the jam dripped out the back of her head

It made a nasty, tasty tangle of hair out of view

Sticking to her, she felt it, yet she couldn't name-

Nor can anyone even try-

A forgotten lullaby.