When You Let Go Of All That Wishes To Leave, What Will You Have Left Except All These Memories That You're

When you let go of all that wishes to leave, what will you have left except all these memories that you're better off without? They won't leave though; their presence will linger like claw marks on wood and creases on a crumbled up piece of paper. They're stubborn unlike all the things you wish had stayed.

More Posts from Goddessdiviinee and Others

3 weeks ago

Once I learn pull ups it would be over for you all

4 weeks ago

The only way for us to move ahead or be superior is actually by trying to pull the other person down. Yes humans are this stupid? Imagine you could work hard on your self and move the fuck on but no that's what brave people do and I am a loser shouldn't I instead try saying something so instigating that the other person gets offended and in turn say something more condescending? Yes? That's exactly what makes me feel superior ? I am a lover indeed? The god? Come get blessed.


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1 month ago

To want for comfort and solace. For peace of mind and peace of heart --

Connection, understanding, and any form of love.

But I had long since accepted that the yearning that defined my heart

would go unfulfilled --

That I might yearn, until my end, for things that could never be --

And then parted the clouds and shined the moon, and,

It became clear that my acceptance did not make my solemn solitude a fact of life -- That even a girl like me is not beyond true sight, and true kindness --

I no longer yearn for what is not --

I simply yearn for you.

"Even if I cannot touch the light of the moon." V. Rue, 2025.

3 weeks ago
(us In Another Universe)

(us in another universe)

Aww my heart <33 I really hope we get born as puppies in another universe and play around together


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3 weeks ago

propaganda i am not falling for:

always moving on. some goodbyes need to rot a little. some griefs need to be held in the mouth like a stone.

beauty defined by algorithms. beauty exists in crow feet and smile lines

pretending to be chill. i’m not chill. i care deeply and inconveniently. i read into things. i write poems about eye contact

beige apartments with no soul. give me bookshelves and incense and loud art

sneaky links and unclear intentions. i want devotion. and also clarity

treating books as decor. read them. dog-ear them. argue with them in the margins

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