I Posted 55 Times In 2022
I posted 55 times in 2022
That's 15 more posts than 2021!
27 posts created (49%)
28 posts reblogged (51%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@fennecshandgf
@sleepyowlwrites
@the-shooting-star
@inkinmyskinandsoul
@judas-redeemed
I tagged 25 of my posts in 2022
#poetry - 22 posts
#loveforwords - 21 posts
#poets on tumblr - 21 posts
#chaos.and.clutter - 21 posts
#poems on tumblr - 21 posts
#quotes - 21 posts
#literature - 21 posts
#books - 20 posts
#musings - 20 posts
#fiction - 20 posts
Longest Tag: 27 characters
#my head is about to explode
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
I read that Grief is a derived word
A word that stemmed from the Latin word gravis.
Gravis - Heavy.
A weight that we've to carry on our own
Because there's only I in Grief.
Most often there are no exit wounds.
It tears your skin and lodges within.
Sometimes we learn to live with it.
Sometimes we have to cut ourselves open and let it out.
And when there are exit wounds,
You've to be courageous enough to let it pass through you.
Tear open your skin twice.
There's no Us in Grief.
I can only sit next to you and hold your hand
While you're hurting.
Hoping you'll pull through.
And then help you stitch your exit wounds.
11 notes - Posted July 31, 2022
#4
recently came across The Beatrice Letters by Lemony Snicket which screams love in every possible way. So I had to make my own version of it. Dramatically speaking: An homage if I may.
The Beatrice Letters: Unsent
I will love you if this is the last time I get to tell you, and I will love you if this is the only time I get to tell you that I do. I will love you as an empress loves her emperor, and as the emperor loves his subjects, and as his subjects love their empire. I love you as a moth loves flame and as flame loves metal. I love you as a warrior loves her sword and as the sword loves to draw blood. I will wait for you as Olaf waits for summer and as a pied cuckoo waits for rain. I will love you if our forever starts today, I will love you if our forever ends today, and I will love you if we never even stood a chance.
I love you as the sun loves the sea and as the sea loves the salt. I will love you as long as it takes to separate the salt from the sea and the salt from my tears. I love you as Shakespeare loves tragedy, and as tragedy follows every hero, and as the hero slowly starts to fall in love with the villain. I will learn to say I love you in every existing language, and then I will learn to speak your love language. I will love you as the poets love the moon and as the moon loves to chase a car. I will love you when you think the world of someone else, I will love you as that world falls apart, and I will love you as my world falls apart. I will love you when my world is full of light, and I will love you from the shadows of my mind.
16 notes - Posted August 5, 2022
#3
Doesn't a word look weird when we stare at it long enough? Doesn't the alphabet look slightly meaningless when we write it over and over again? Here's one: CLING C-LING, C-L-ING, C-L-I-NG, C-L-I-N-G. Does this make sense? It doesn't sound like a word the more you say it. It doesn't look like a word the more you write it. The curves and strokes, dots and dash!
Isn't it how the name of the people you love changes? At some point, it stops being a name, a word that belongs to them. It becomes a feeling that belongs to you. It stops sounding like a word or a random string of letters. It becomes a string of feelings you cling to when life falls apart. Their name on your phone screen stops looking like a word. Every notification and phone call conjures an image of them looking at you and smiling before you can even look at it twice. That particular string of curves and strokes, dots and dash Once belonged to them and is now beloved by you Which you randomly write in the air because it gives you comfort.
Sometimes we take names for granted without realizing the power it holds. When all it takes is that one word to appear on your screen to get you through another tiring day.
23 notes - Posted August 15, 2022
#2
CROWDED TRAIN RIDES
We save the most intense conversations
For the crowded train rides back home.
Not the same home. Not now. Not ever.
We stand in between the bustling crowd,
Look out the window and avoid each other's eyes
You hum under your breath, and I pretend I didn't hear it
We talk about the day in moments.
Ones that made us laugh, ones that felt grateful,
And then about the ones we didn't think the other would notice.
That brings a smile to your face,
So I crack open my otherwise dark heart just a little.
To let that light inside. You smile again, and I break again.
I tell you things I wouldn't tell you when we're alone
In the silence of an empty road where you can hear my voice break
So I find comfort in the crowd muffling out my pain.
The train stops, and you forget it's time.
It's time for you to get down, that it's time for us to reset.
We hug, you get down, and I watch you walk away.
One of these days will be our final train ride like this
Where we talk about us.
And we'll get down, go home. Not the same. Not ever.
But maybe one that's just as loved.
39 notes - Posted May 2, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
The Beatrice Letters by Lemony Snicket
42 notes - Posted August 5, 2022
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More Posts from Whats-in-a-username and Others
My Body: A Crime Scene
I was told the body is a temple. I was taught to treat my body like a temple. Sacred, Holy, somewhere God resides, somewhere a person can be at peace. But with time, the sacrality has begun to fade. It has become a realm of my internal demons, something sinister.
My body is now more of a crime scene than a temple.
I've put up barricade tapes around me. Of bright "when life gives you lemon" yellow and black. A cautionary measure for the lighthearted.
Some understand and stay away.
Others push right through like the case now belongs to them.
They say they've seen this before.
They say no amount of gore can keep them away.
They say they'll take care of it.
Only to realize it's bloodier than they could've imagined.
Multiple fingerprints, Multiple footprints: An evidence marker placed for every person I let walk all over me, and for every person, I gave my heart only for them to poke my wounds.
Blood: Numerous splatters, but all mine.
Weapons: Some sticks and stones, knives that I willingly handed over hoping they'd protect me, now covered in my blood and, a pen.
Many witnesses: Either dumb or hostile.
Signs of arson: Ashes of everything I burnt down. Pictures, letters, broken promises, false hopes, unfulfilled dreams.
And now, all that's left of me is a chalk outline. Everything else faded, picked apart or withered away.
My body is not a temple anymore. It isn't sacred or pure.
It's not a place I can stand barefoot.
It's now a place where I need a hazmat suit and gloves.
And in the centers...
Reblog, Reblog, Reblog , cause I love this thread!!! 😂😂
Every single odd number has an “e” in it.
- Stendhal, The Red and the Black
on soulmates
f. scott fitzgerald / friedrich nietzsche / florence and the machine / andrea dworkin / kiersten white / euripides / audre lorde / phillip pullmann / bob hicok
“I suppose I love this life, in spite of my clenched fist.”
— Andrea Gibson, Birthday
The kind of love...
I've never felt love like yours
The kind that
heals my inner child who made wrong choices in love and,
overpowers my insecurities with constant reassurance.
When you hold my ragged heart in your hands,
salving what's left of it,
I know it has never seen a safer place.
I've never felt the love I've for you
The kind that
wants you to be happy more than wanting you to be mine and,
has me wishing something for you on every fallen eyelash.
When I sit to pray and ask for your happiness along with others,
instead of our future,
I know the love I've for you is beyond just us.
I've never been in love like ours
The kind that
is better than the ones in movies and,
no amount of lyrics can contain.
When we feel the world stop when our foreheads touch and,
time slow when your lips meet mine.
I know I'm learning what love is.
#story #writers #writersofinstagram #writerscommunity #poetry #poetrycommunity #poetsofinstagram #poem #words #write #love
Poetry challenge #7
A strange dream.
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