The skin that you are in is beautiful. You don’t have to be lighter. You don’t have to be darker. You don’t have to lose your scars. You don’t need to hide your stretch marks. You don’t need to wear make up unless you like it. There is no addendum or asterisk to that statement. The skin you are in is beautiful. Period. End of.
—  Nikita Gill, The Skin You Are In

“No amount of stars,” he tells her, “can distract you when you have fallen for the moon.”

“And you,” he continues,

“My dear, are my one and only moon.”

—  Lukas W. // Forgotten Words #166 // Only moon

“And when it is said to them: "Make not mischief on the earth,” they say: “We are only peacemakers.” - Quran verse ( 2:11)
Hate doesn’t just happen. War doesnt just happen. It’s the ones that pretend to maintain peace while attacking, ensalving, and bombimg innocent lives.

i once thought that i could fix us

be the bridge that holds fast
take your quakes and hope to last
never break despite our spats

write your name right next to mine
hope the ink could defy time
enough to see us past our fights

stay my hand and turn a cheek
bite my tongue enough to bleed
count to ten before i speak

know my way around your shells
keep an eye on your tells
keep my feelings hidden well

i once thought that i could fix us

but the bridge has fallen
the ink is gone
and i’ve bled enough

— i can’t take you anymore | wt.

She said she felt nothing

She said she felt nothing
When I said I love her
But the words still poured out
Yearning for ears to hear

She said she felt nothing
When I hugged her so tight
My heartbeat erratic
Against her heart’s dull thuds

She said she felt nothing
When I kissed her pale lips
That sensation lingers
Only for one lover

She said she felt something
But I got up and left 
As I was her nothing
And I lost everything

I wanted to write but I had no words, all my words were tongue-tied and old, like the nostalgia you feel but never speak of.
—  Eliot Knight
Something Like This

I have always wanted to write a love poem
about how your eyes can steal the stars
or you know, something like that.

Something like how we are snows falling
to your bed, melting through the night
only to be seeped by your sheets.

Something like how your kisses are sparks
exploding aimlessly to my dusky mouth,
granting me a newborn morning.

Something like how we are clouds floating
above the city, embracing the pink skies
with the flushness of our smiles.

I have always wanted to write a love poem
about how we are vivid hues gleaming
through the wonders of the seasons.

Something like how we are both here,
watching the autumn leaves confetti
instead of disastrously falling apart.

my hands are dragging along the walls 
as I try and find my way out,
but my own voice is echoing 
through these abandoned halls 
and the fingerprints I am leaving 
behind me like a trail are too small
to be from now, maybe it was all
lost when I was a little girl
left in the canned good aisle 
in a supermarket 
that has long since closed;
I still can’t find my way
back to the sliding doors
that always seemed to open
on their own-
isn’t it funny how magic exists
and problems don’t 
when you are too little to know 
that life is just getting lost 
in a bunch of different places.

- on wandering through a life I don’t remember entering || O.L.

i am the piece of paper of which this story is being written on
and you are the pen
we can make something positively beautiful or absolutely heartbreaking but it doesn’t matter which tale we tell;
the ending is always the same and only one of us feels the pain of it

(cc, 2017)