writing prose

Have you ever met someone who you can’t get tired of seeing everyday?” she asked. “Someone who makes your heart smile and puts a sweet shiver to your spine. Someone who can sit with you all day even if you talk about nonsense things. Have you ever known someone who never asked for you to change yourself? Someone who accepts you just the way you are. Someone who never wants you to lose yourself just by loving them. Someone who treats you in the best possible way without expecting too much from you.” she paused and thought of that someone she’s been talking about. It all comes to her mind. The way he genuinely smiles as if there are millions of fireflies that suddenly showed up at the night sky. The way he looks at her as if she is the most stunning person in the universe. Her heart seems to love everything she feels. And for that, she is grateful to know a person like him. She smiled and continued, “Haven’t you met someone you thought—will never exists in this world? Someone you thought you will never meet. Because I have met someone who I thought will only appear in my dreams.
—  ma.c.a // I want to describe you longer than this
What should I make out of these people
who tell me that my feelings for you will fade eventually
when I knew all your faults
and your darkest days
- and fell for you still?
—  // (or because of?)
j.d.m.
i think the most messed up part about it all is how you still linger even though you left. i’m beginning to find myself unable to even talk to new people without stopping and remembering that they’re not you. like the laughter dies and bubbles deep in my stomach, my tongue curls back and i retreat, closed mouth, eyes lowered. and i know that confuses people when i suddenly become distant, but, yeah, i still can’t enjoy myself or others anymore and dive into new friendships because i know i will never reach that same level of intimacy that i did with you. and that’s partly because there’s no one in the world that’s going to take your place, and that’s partly because you took advantage of my trust and generosity and now i can’t ever pour my entirety into any relationship anymore for fear it’ll be too much for them like it was too much for you. too much and too ugly. you said it would be better if you would leave, so why are you still here in everything i do?
—  god, you said this would be the last time i’d hear from you, but i should have known that you wouldn’t suddenly stop lying now
I say I am losing my appetite because of the heat of the summer, but it is the heat of his skin that makes any food secondary to the taste of him. Ever since he kissed me, I have only drunk coffee. It is only substance my lovesick stomach can hold down. I take it black as the night we love so dearly and wallow in its bitterness, hoping to drown out the softness he set in my stomach. For it seems dangerous to fall in love with him, to feel him in the bottom of my belly and sense him in the echo of my mouth whenever he is not close to me. I drink coffee as black as the night as if it could save me. I drink coffee as black as night as if it could make him into an acquaintance again. But we both knew that sacred second right before our lips touched was far too similar to the storm riveted sea his large eyes resemble, and there is no way to turn back the time we erased with our mouths. In his arms, there is nothing, and there is everything. In his gaze, there is a galaxy of “please don’t go”. In his mouth, the stars explode at last as messengers to this unspoken utterance. In the reflection of that coffee as black as night, I can look at myself through the darkness and almost convince myself he is someone I can simply let go. But when my hands shake and my chest aches to the point of virtual agony in his absence, I know the warmth of his skin cannot be replicated by any force this natural universe could muster- and the third empty coffee cup of the day doesn’t begin to come close to the fulfillment only he can bring to me.
—  ap (7.23.16) 01:27am

I do not want mediocre love
I refuse to settle for it
I have been shown it one too many times

I deserve
sunflowers and poems
trust
forehead kisses in the morning

I deserve love
that is true
unwavering
Love that does not walk out
even on the darkest nights

Love that is safe
warm
calm
Love that is complete
Love that lasts

The Mountains Are Shaking

I can feel it in my feet
In my gut
The sky’s empty
Completely clear
I can almost make out infinity from here
Maybe I should work seven days a week to save up for an expensive telescope so I can make out infinity

The trees are shaking
Stupidly slapping their arms back and forth
They have to be tired
I don’t know
I’m tired
But the birds are singing
Their nests are falling
Weeds are growing
The wind’s howling

The waves are shaking
Crashing onto themselves
Turning water white
Reflecting golden-pink-purple sunsets
Shaking
Swallowing fishing piers and men alike
Shaking
While toddlers hum on the shore killing sand crabs

The babies are shaking
Self-inflicting shaken baby syndrome
Dancing in the streets
Screaming at the night
Alone
Together
On performance-enhancing drugs
Painting
Singing
Writing
Fishing
Hiking
Dancing
Shaking

The stars are shaking
Well
I might be drunk
But it seems like the stars are definitely shaking
Taunting me
Seducing me
Freaking me out
When did any of this become normal?
When did we decide to silently accept far away gigantic fire planets as a part of everyday life?

My hands are shaking
Been shaking since I was a little kid
Dancing
Trembling like cold teeth
I’m not sure why
Nothing’s wrong with me
Or
Nothing’s really that wrong with me
Whatever
Blah Blah Blah

The mountains are shaking
Their shadows shaking
Your Ma’ and Pa’ shaking
Their dog shaking from the thunder
Your head shaking from the pressure
Golden light shaking
Soft
Violent
Forever and ever
Keeping you on your toes

Sometimes I wish that I could see the world in a different way. I wonder what I would be like if I didn’t take things the way that I do, feel things the way that I do. What if I were someone else for a while?
—  🖤
the one who

All my life
I’ve run from the pain
run from the hope
of feeling joy
again
and again
Almost stuck it out
a time, or three
but always blew away
leaves, leaving the tree
Until I met you
then I knew
This was a once-
in-a-lifetime kind of thing
Heart ringing
in my ears
all my fears, finally,
put to rest
Eyes alight
with delight
I knew that this was right
we sang our song
Then you said
we were wrong
couldn’t go along
Together forever
now another never
The one time
in my whole fucking life
I stayed
stuck in the front
been betrayed
Now the dust has cleared
we are over, and done
Broken by my one fear…
I should have run
from the one
who got away

she waited,
long enough to know that
it’s all love
that filled inside her heart

she waited,
long enough to know that
it’s worth the pain
and the heartbreak

she waited,
long enough to know that
he’d never return
the feeling she carries

she waited,
long enough to know that
he’d always choose him
no matter what

she waited,
but the thing is
she doesn’t have forever
to wait,
even for him.

—  d.p.a // to let go is to feel happy
And it’s just one of those days, when all you look forward to is sleeping. And suddenly, you hear this one song which strikes a chord with you and it takes you to distant places and long-forgotten memories. You suddenly enter a world of your own, your body moving with every beat, your heart syncing with every note. You go on like that, and suddenly the song comes to an end. You go back to your normal monotonous life, much happier and joyous just because of that one song. Music makes a difference. It always had and always will.
She had a quiet, masterful presence. There weren’t words to express her beauty, nor could a soul resist the fear of approaching her uncalled.
—  Someone I’ve needed. 🖤
I star in a musical, titled Life, in which god is my stage director, depression is the costume designer, love is my female lead , severe anxiety is the antagonist,  and last but not least, hope, being the supporting actor
—  Life “ the musical”, the ballad of me and brain, the summary of how my life has been, the coming of age of a real life mess: who holds onto a stick called hope and never lets it go
Anger. Cold. Numb.

And I hated him. And I killed him. I killed him with my bare hands. I felt the bone crack. I felt the blood flow. But I didn’t. I really didn’t. But oh I wish. I really wish. Because I would have. I would have. I would have killed him good. Real good. I would have. The betrayal tasted like acid in my mouth. And I could have. A thousand times. A thousands times over. But I didn’t. I didn’t. A promise is a promise is a promise.

But I wish I had. Oh I wished. The promise be damned. I shook with it. The anger. The cold blooded anger. It made me numb. It made me so numb. I could have killed him then. Just so.

But I didn’t.

this summer wants you to do something different. be free. live life. create good karma by doing good things. laugh. cry. grow. sit under the stars and sing your favorite song in a big grassy field with a friend. a love.
it’s a chapter of your life ready to be written.
make it the most serendipitous one.
—  shataraliora.com 🍃

why are his hands supposed to be calloused and war-torn when my hands do just as much work?
why am i supposed to be the one that goes trembling into his arms when i can see how he’s the one that needs to be held for his mind is crumbling and the guilt of his deeds are eating him away?
why does he need to fight demons for me when he is incapable of fighting against his own?
when did love become a construct of one saving the other?
when did the fairer beings become the weaker beings?
when did the word ‘woman’ start becoming equivalent to 'fragile’?
why has love only been talked of when it is between the agile and the fragile?

why is that love great?

and what about equality?

—  tanvi r
I’ve chosen a bottle over talking about it and I’ve walked across the street without looking. I’ve chosen the friends with benefits boy and I’ve chosen to give when I shouldn’t have. I’ve let my thoughts kill my soul and my insecurities kill my appetite. I’ve smoked to laugh instead of listening to jokes and I’ve picked things that I know will kill me. I think attempting suicide doesn’t have to be about swallowing pills and still waking up, I think it starts before that. I think I’ve already killed myself over and over and over. I think my body is just waiting to catch up.
—  A.G.