i hope the anonymous person who sent the "i used to live in your house. i'm drunk in boston and it's the only address i know. happy holidays" postcard is aware that they wrote my favourite poem
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@softcntrd
i hope the anonymous person who sent the "i used to live in your house. i'm drunk in boston and it's the only address i know. happy holidays" postcard is aware that they wrote my favourite poem

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i hope the anonymous person who sent the "i used to live in your house. i'm drunk in boston and it's the only address i know. happy holidays" postcard is aware that they wrote my favourite poem
Once you become very aware of yourself, it's almost a joke when someone tries to tell you about you.
Pain that brings you closer to God is always better than any comfort that keeps you away from Him.

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The Art of Surrender
I swear, had it not been for your hold, I would have become the wind.
Like a tethered balloon, caught on the breath of longing.
Your presence is a gentle whisper- soft as rain upon a desert, carving through walls I built long ago,
brick by brick,
until I stand before you,
stripped of all pretense,
naked in the light of your gaze.
You trace the splits of my fingers and I tremble as if earth itself is quaking beneath us.
Can you feel it too?
In your quiet touch, a secret hymn is etched into the marrow of my bones.
You say my name like a prayer,
each syllable a plea.
I reach for you, in all the ways a soul can beg, until my body spills itself at your feet-
my soul unravels like a river,
pouring through the cracks in my chest,
flowing, lost in the torrent of you.
How to breathe becomes a forgotten art, so instead, I surrender like the tides to the pull of the moon.
In your arms, I find a world I never knew,
a tenderness that asks nothing,
yet holds everything I am.
I am torn between wanting to drown in this fire,
and protecting the parts of me that still shutter in the dark.
A dance of yearning,
A song sung between breaths-
I close my eyes and feel everything and yet, somehow, nothing at all
You take your time, peeling away the world,
unwrapping me as if I were always meant to be seen.
Every inch of me belongs to you,
though you may never know how deeply.
You taste my curves and with a single glance you found the door I swore was lost, buried in the labyrinth where my fears lie dormant
The darkness stirs, yet all I can focus on is your thoroughness.
I have forgotten where I end and where you begin.
With every kiss, you breathe me in,
not out of hunger for my body,
but for the essence of me that lies beneath, for the forgotten parts of myself buried between the shadows
I lose myself in the weight of your touch,
a weight that pulls me under, and yet guides me closer,
closer into the orbit of you-
a gravity sure as a promise made in silence between the stars.
And with every word you speak, there is a soft release.
A peace that echoes in my chest.
A balm for the wounds I dare not speak of, that heal, ache, and burn all at once.
— Lauryn White, The Art of Surrender
Excuses For Why We Failed At Love by Warsan Shire I’m lonely so I do lonely things Loving you was like going to war; I never came back the same. You hate women, just like your father and his father, so it runs in your blood. I was wandering the derelict car park of your heart looking for a ride home. You’re a ghost town I’m too patriotic to leave. I stay because you’re the beginning of the dream I want to remember. I didn’t call him back because he likes his girls voiceless. It’s not that he wants to be a liar; it’s just that he doesn’t know the truth. I couldn’t love you, you were a small war. We covered the smell of loss with jokes. I didn’t want to fail at love like our parents. You made the nomad in me build a house and stay. I’m not a dog. We were trying to prove our blood wrong. I was still lonely so I did even lonelier things. Yes, I’m insecure, but so was my mother and her mother. No, he loves me he just makes me cry a lot. He knows all of my secrets and still wants to kiss me. You were too cruel to love for a long time. It just didn’t work out. My dad walked out one afternoon and never came back. I can’t sleep because I can still taste him in my mouth. I cut him out at the root, he was my favorite tree, rotting, threatening the foundations of my home. The women in my family die waiting. Because I didn’t want to die waiting for you. I had to leave, I felt lonely when he held me. You’re the song I rewind until I know all the words and I feel sick. He sent me a text that said “I love you so bad.” His heart wasn’t as beautiful as his smile We emotionally manipulated one another until we thought it was love. Forgive me, I was lonely so I chose you. I’m a lover without a lover. I’m lovely and lonely. I belong deeply to myself .
"It surprises me, how a small gesture can feel so very big. How sometimes you don't realize the nervousness or sadness you were holding deep inside until the touch of someone you love lets it all out of you, like your entire body is exhaling."
– Lucy Keating, "Dreamology"
i want to be so kind it echoes backwards in time and undoes the things that hurt you. i want to be so kind it radiates from me. i want to be so kind that i make someone else find faith in humanity again. there’s not much i can do, i’m small and weak and i only know so many words. but i know i can be kind. and sometimes, i believe, that changes the world.
I’ve spent my 18 years of life trying to be okay with the fact that humans fade in and out of each others’ lives. No matter how I think about it, I can’t make it sound romantic or poetic. To those who have already passed through my life and to those who eventually will: I love you. I miss you. The back door will always be unlocked if you ever feel like coming home.
-Anonymous
The number of hours we have together is actually not so large. Please linger near the door uncomfortably instead of just leaving. Please forget your scarf in my life and come back later for it.
-Mikko Harvey

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E.E Scott, Every Day I Am Trying New Techniques To Make Myself Disappear
always the artist; never the muse.