The rain falls again.
We nestle closer together under
the umbrella you held out to me.
I curse the gloom set upon us
as we stand there, hearing the
lonesome sound of the skies
and the rhythm of pain in its cries.
all the chocolate in the world
can’t elicit the sweetness in my mouth
your kisses gave
my soundtrack for lying awake at 2am and wallowing
complex doesn’t necessarily mean beautiful.
Don’t lose yourself in trying to unravel someone.
before you fail at something you have to try it first. That’s why I’m not sad when I fail. Failing means I have dreams and aspirations and achievements. Failing means I am on the road to what I want.
I don’t want to climb a mountain and only enjoy the view from the top. I want to climb a mountain while looking at the trees swaying or the flowers on the road.
I don’t want to enjoy success only, I want to enjoy my hardships on the way to success too because I am not stagnant and the fact that I have hardships is a sign that I am moving towards my goal.
My goal isn’t success, my goal is trying for success so I don’t really fail at all.
5 days ago: I found
Inspiration in a can of expired mouldy soup
4 days ago: I found
A muse in the sadness of your eyes
3 days ago: I found
Hope in that smile of yours which makes your eyes crinkle so I almost can’t see the sadness in them
Almost. 2 days ago: I found
My favorite melody in the rhythmic hacking of your laughter accompanied with “stop making me laugh! My stomach hurts”
1 day ago: I found
That expired mouldy soup does make my stomach hurt
This exact moment: I found
That inspiration from 5 days ago only
Prompt: write a love story between the leaves and the wind
Everyday she teased me,
She pulled at my tips,
caressed my spine,
And whispered her songs onto my edges,
She made me beg,
Till I was browning and red,
Before she stole me away,
And let me follow her,
Everywhere she went
-the last dwindling leaf about the wind// M.A.P
‘Hey can you come with me?’ she asked with a flip of her hair and a grin on her lips.
It’s almost as though she knows I can’t resist,
the sparkle of her eyes,
or the dimples on her cheeks,
or even the cloud of vanilla she leaves behind when she leaves a place;
‘Yeah of course’ I say softly, a blush making its mark on my cheeks.
We walk along the courtyard,
her hands brushed my thighs twice
it feels like my heart has found a home in her hands,
and her hands don’t know they’re carrying something yet,
I don’t know if they ever will;
She talked of the boy she met a few nights before
‘He was so cute I hope I see him again soon, he’s been texting me all day’ she sighs with a smile,
She’s probably been dreaming about him all day the same way I’ve been dreaming about her,
and there’s no doubt in my mind he did the same today;
'He’ll ask you out soon for sure, he can’t resist you. No one really can’ I tell her as I watch her smile before dropping my gaze to the ground,
Am I even allowed to look at her like that?
but my eyes always find a way to her smile and that stupid dimple on her right cheek that I’ve fallen in love with,
I can’t help it,
she’s so nice to look at;
'Yeah you think so?’ she asks with a soft smile and hopeful eyes
I nod and let my gaze drop to the ground again,
She’s already made me fall for her
he would fall even quicker for sure,
he has a chance;
'Thanks, I love you’
Not the way I do, I think to myself,
but I can’t stop myself when I say;
'I love you too’
because I really do.
“this is my suicide dress,” she told him
“I only wear it on days
when I’m afraid
I might kill myself
if I don’t wear it”
“you’ve been wearing it
every day since we met”
“and these are my arson gloves”
“so you don’t set fire to something?”
“…and this is my terrorism lipstick
my assault and battery eyeliner
my armed robbery boots”
“I’d like to undress you” he said
“but would that make me an accomplice?”
“and today,” she said “I’m wearing
my infidelity underwear
so don’t get any ideas”
so she put on her nervous breakdown hat
and walked out the door
- Denver Butson
Artwork by Christian Develter
When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares —Henri J.M. Nouwen
artwork by Jesùs Leguizamo
Found on a university in Calcutta
“When is a monster not a monster?
Oh, when you love it.” —Caitlyn Siehl
Artwork by Anthony Goicolea
“That’s what really scares me.
Falling in love is easy. Having sex is easier. But bumping into someone that can spark your soul - that shit is rare.
You could fuck four, five, all the people in a god damned room and you’d only feel a connection with one. Or none at all.
And what sucks is despite the undeniable real magnetic pull between the two of you, more often than not, you don’t end up together.
I’m afraid I won’t meet anyone else I can connect with.
I’m scared it’ll be just you.”
—Connection, Sade Andria Zabala
artwork by Polina Washington
In the dark
We stumbled On flowers
On naked bodies
On our love.
Dawn came too soon
And showed us
How the flowers we stumbled on
Withered into the earth
“Zendagi az tu, marg az man
Rahaati az tu, narahaati az man
Khushi az tu, ghaam az man
Hama chiz az tu
Wale tu az man.”
“Life is yours, death is mine
Peace is yours, stress is mine
Happiness is yours, sorrow is mine
Everything is yours
But you are mine”