Never take a writer for granted. They are snipers armed with words. They know how to aim with sentences, how to fire with paragraphs, and how to immortalise their kills in verse.
—  Writers are Dangerous People | Nikita Gill
Writing Prompt #344: How They Met
  1. My dad hates your dad let’s piss them off and pretend to date.
  2. We both ended up in in the emergency room at the same time and bond over strangely acquired injuries.
  3. We end up with each others suitcases after a panicked layover flight.
  4. Howdy neighbor please remove your dog from my couch I don’t even know how he got in.
  5. I keep burning my food and I heard from my friend you can cook plus you live literally across the hall from me please help me survive my first semester at college.

The bottom of the bath tub looks
lonely so I do not drown it and I sit
with her all night and it is not for
me, I tell the water, it is not for me.

There is blood on the bed but we
forgot how to talk about the things
that make us bleed and we go for
a drive and we do not ask for
directions because it has always
been difficult to ask how not to drive
off the cliff and we get lost, every time.

There is rhythm to this loneliness.
There is rhythm and familiarity 
where the floor of the closet meets
the tremor body of the translucent
girl. And we hear them whisper,
“we know this.”

We hear ourselves whisper,
“how can we live any differently?
has anyone ever lived any

—  “3am on the closet floor, a love letter to the old sadness.” by Emma Bleker
Calling all unrecognised writers!

Following the update from the BIG MAN aka Kevin, we are forging ahead to find more writers :)

This is a message to all writers, who are still finding their feet on Tumblr, or have perhaps found the place daunting. If you are a writer and want your work read, please feel free to follow, either myself wordswritteninsilence and more importantly the RTV , a wonderful initiative/project created by Kevin 

Any questions - don’t be afraid to ask me or anyone at the RTV. We don’t bite, unless that’s what you’re seeking, in which case I’m sure we can work something out :)


You are told there is a limit to how much you are allowed love our own self. That you cannot be your own soulmate. You are expected to give love fearlessly to others, at an impossibly high risk, but you must be careful to only love yourself enough. I implore you to be greedy. Be unabashedly, inescapably, unapologetically in love with you. Lose yourself in your own beauty, and intelligence, and spirit. You are your greatest companion.
—  saintangry
I spent my life folded between the pages of books.
In the absence of human relationships I formed bonds with paper characters. I lived love and loss through stories threaded in history; I experienced adolescence by association. My world is one interwoven web of words, stringing limb to limb, bone to sinew, thoughts and images all together. I am a being comprised of letters, a character created by sentences, a figment of imagination formed through fiction.
—  Tehereh Mafi, Shatter Me.
Rain Puddles

Sometimes, missing a step
tripping and falling
lets me realize how fragile
we all are.
No one walks with surety
or in straight lines
and there are cracks
we never see.
I love when it rains
puddles hide the cracks
my shoes find the puddles
soaking me all over.
Covered in mud
standing in the rain
I somehow feel real
and alive.
It’s only when I hear someone laughing
that I miss a step and fall.