#poet Tumblr posts

  • the first time you told me

    you love me

    was over the screen and across

    30 minutes of travel time

    i believed it was a slip of the thumbs

    the second time you told me

    you love me

    was over the screen and into camera lens

    you seemed to stare into my soul and 

    you shouted

    I Love You

    and i didnt know what to say except giggle

    the third time you told me

    you love me

    was in replace of a 


    or sweet dreams

    there was a foreign turning in my stomach

    and the butterflies migrated to my throat

    all i did was say goodnight

    in highpitched ring and covered my mouth in shock

    i ended the call so abruptly

    i forgot that you had feelings too

    the first time i told you

    i love you

    isnt exactly written yet

    but i can tell by the way my stomach folds over itself

    that it’ll come

    and it’ll be worth it

    patience is a virtue neither of us have

    but it’s a gift we gave to each other instead.

    copyright ianne.

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  • “You knew the cute little boy growing up who loved his mama. I know the fine gentle man already grown who loves me too.”

    Maileta /// table for two, please

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    The day of the dead is a symphony

    Retreating into paradise

    To fuck like burning stars

    #poem#poems #poems of tumblr #poet#poets #poets on tumblr #poetic#poetry#writer#writers #writers on tumblr #writing#spilled words#spilled ink#art #jonathan miles berkland
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  • #writerscreed#poeticstories#poetryportal#illustrans#poetryriot#words#quotes#write#writings #writers on tumblr #writerscribbles#poet#poems#poetry #poets on tumblr #poetsandwriters#excerpt#excerpts #excerpt from a book i'm writing #excerpt from a book I'll never write #excerpt of stories #spilled ink#spilled words #spilled in poetry #original writing#growth#growing
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  • (I’ve been a little mia here on Tumblr but I’ve still been sharing on Instagram so I’ll post last weeks post in the next couple days to catch you guys up. Much love)

    Once again, I’ve started diving into myself. Sometimes I feel as though I get lost in my own world;I am Alice in Wonderland except I cry a lot more often and I don’t make friends along the way.I tend to push people away, especially if I feel as though they cannot relate to the struggles that I’ve been through because I think deep down I just want to be understood and cared for on a platonic level but I’ve been burned a few times. I’ve experienced a lot of heartbreak but not romantically; I’m a little jaded when it comes to friendships, if I’m honest.⁣

    What I’m trying to say is that I’ve been working on bettering myself so that maybe I ⁣could form these deeper, more meaningful connections with other people outside of my⁣ husband, mother, and my children… I’ve been listening to podcasts, meditating, reading,⁣ journaling, and generally avoiding all things outside of myself - taking time to figure my shit⁣
    out because I have to. I have to kick this horrible habit I have which is… avoiding growth.⁣

    I was listening to an interview with @macmiller before he passed away (RIP❤️) and he said ⁣something along the lines of “people think that creatives have to be like depressed and sad ⁣to create all these things we create and we sometimes get stuck in that ‘idea’ but it’s not true…” I don’t think I’ve ever related to anything more. There are so many things that we are told to be or told just are this way and it’s not true. It’s not cool to be sad or negative or whatever and although, I’m definitely not writing to be apart of some wack popularity competition, I do hope that I am inspiring some people along the way. And sadness and honest vulnerability about our feelings can inspire someone to express their own and in turn grow, I don’t think it’s healthy for me to stick myself in a sad box (I’m not sure what else to call it…) which is sometimes what I do.⁣

    I was just talking about this in my story last night - about how its okay to be sad just because your sad and I said, “That’s me! I’m your everyday sad girl who has a great life but is just sad.” Although, That is very true… I am starting to think that I could definitely be doing something about it. Ya know?⁣

    Happy #RawThoughtThursday, I hope you guys enjoy my free-write poet and get something from this little ramble of mine.⁣

    Also, keep an eye on my story today because I’ll be posting the day, time, and people I’ll be reading in my upcoming live which I’m super excited for! I hope you guys will join me and just hang out for a while!⁣

    ReBecca DeFazio⁣⁣
    🖤✨ Little Reminders 🖤✨⁣⁣
    ✨ Merch can be found at my shop on my website (Just click the cute shopping cart!)⁣⁣
    ✨ My website morethanaflower.com has tons of cool shit on it - exclusive poetry, sign up for my newsletter, blog posts and more!⁣⁣
    ✨ My book “𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘛𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘔𝘦” is coming out soon!⁣⁣
    ✨ I’m literally everywhere so you can find me on places like Medium, Mirakee, Tumblr, The Prose, etc! Just look for “𝘔𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘢 𝘍𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳”⁣⁣
    Thank you so much for you never ending love and support, I appreciate you all so very much!⁣

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    I heard the jeep pull up outside, the engine quiet, then the door slam. I waited silently, continuing to read. Kelsey came in and slammed the front door. She is pissed. I can feel her eyes on the back of my head and I don’t have to say anything or turn around because I know in just one second she will come to me. She will stand right in front of me and surely throw something soft, as not to actually harm me, but in hope to annoy me just slightly. She throws the mail which she must have grabbed on her way inside. I grin behind my book and then relax my face before setting it down to look at her.


    “What the fuck, J?”

    “What?” I’m trying hard not to smile or laugh because I understand she is pissed and I won’t invalidate her feelings, but I am already planning to apologize. Knowing full well I fucked up and probably wasted her time.

    “I’ve been calling you for like 2 hours and I thought you were going to meet me to deal with the fucking storage unit?”

    “I know. I’m sorry. I don’t even have an excuse… I got home and felt like reading.”

    “You felt like reading? J, you don’t even fucking read. What are you talking about? What are you reading?”

    “Well… I was collecting the rest of the stuff to take to storage but then I stumbled across some pieces of you… and us. I got lost in them, I guess. Although, I did order us some dinner. It’s not your favorite but I got dessert too." 

    She doesn’t say anything. She rolls her eyes and sits beside me, throwing her legs over mine and picking up the stack of journals beside me. Poems and other pieces of writing from when she was in high school, love letters I had written to her, the journal I used to propose to her when we were just 19… She is still angry but she gets caught up in these memories just as I did. When the bell rings, I go to kiss her on the cheek but am instead met with her palm in my face “No.” I laugh and proceed to answer the door, accepting the food and then bringing it to the kitchen bar.

    She comes over quietly, from behind and wraps her arms around me as I’m taking the food from the brown paper bag. She’s still mad but she has let go a little. She grabs plates and silverware before separating all of the food equally into our dishes. She doesn’t say anything for a few minutes until…

    "What made you open those up?” 

    "I’m not sure. I just opened them and then that was it. My phone was upstairs so I didn’t hear you calling me but as soon as I heard you slam the jeep door, I knew you were pissed and hoped you’d forgive me.”

    She laughed and kissed me on the cheek.

    “Fine, you’re forgiven but next time you want to stroll down memory lane while also being a douche bag, could you let me know first? That’d be super helpful.” She grins and I smile, my body feeling a surge of gratitude and happiness.

    The next few months are spent putting everything we have ever had with any kind of importance or value into a storage unit, saying goodbye to family and friends, selling our car… She seems anxious but excited. I’m nervous. We lie in bed at night and talk about all the things we will do. She cries sometimes because she’ll miss her bookshelves and is terrified we’ll find only cold showers on this journey we’re about to go on. We talk about jumping. Together. We get caught in each other’s breath. Adventure is like a kind of high, I whisper.

    We let go of everything and we find ourselves falling in love with a life that we never dreamed of but stumbled upon and although I probably don’t say it enough to her, I find myself so very happy. 

    ReBecca DeFazio

    More Than a Flower

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  • When I let you in come to me with a grin.

    Say nothing, just find my neck with your lips

    & grab my waist. Pull me in, leave the prints

    From your grip on my skin. Find my mouth

    When I let a moan escape & take my breath

    Into yours, like a drink. Let me taste

    Your tongue, let my legs wrap around you.

    Pick me up when you’ve had enough, toss me

    Back into bed, digging your fingers across cloth

    Until I am naked. Bend down on your knees

    Like I am a queen & go into my in between

    To suck the honey out. Come back up

    Kiss me, climb on top & smile at me.

    Kiss me again, hold my lips there, moving

    Yours to the rythm you want to take my body.

    Come into me & stay a while. Hold me,

    Find my neck, whisper something.

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  • Pure love, whenever I come across it, whether or not it is directed at me, always leaves me awed. The encounter always feels sacred.

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  • There was a moment,

    A listless and unsettled one,

    Forged from forgotten fears,

    Where death felt blissful and yet unattainable,

    It moved out my grasp,

    With ease and Grace it showed beauty,

    With those who captured it,

    And those who couldn’t,

    It provided power to those who feared it,

    Yet solace in those who fought,

    I would scream from a mountain top,

    To the underbelly of every city with forgotten souls,

    It demands views and likes,

    It demands reblogs and comments,

    It scream severance and pain,

    Solace is sought in this,

    And hope is found in battle too many see as losing,

    You are doing it right,

    You are alright.

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  • Hopelessly empty

    That’s how she felt.

    Wandering aimlessly

    Through the valley of simplicity.

    Selfish and absorbed

    Like oils on a canvas

    Bold yet unsure.

    She puts on a show

    Each day she performs

    But the curtains never close.

    The worlds her stage

    But the wrong people stay

    And nothings the same

    So no one ever knows

    The girl who never learned to cope.

    Constantly craving the most

    But can never risk being exposed.

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  • Notes of a Drunken Young Soul

    it was a tube to short

    an engine that stalled

    failure in all aspects

    but accomplishing nothing


    that wasn’t it

    it was this form inside

    words don’t find it

    pills did the trick

    but more often you found it

    in bars

    on bridges

    at the lows

    and while the ignition failed


    just having to face it

    was not so scary

    I suppose the mentality

    of running away

    didn’t fit this situation

    I wasn’t running away from who I am

    just facing what drove me

    into the thicket of this madness.



    [This situation. It wasn’t the best thing in this world. More often did I face myself trying to hurt myself. Again and again, things never felt right. If you could read this and find this same feeling within, just know, you aren’t alone. I speak casually of these things, as I have faced all of it, with some realization of tomorrow being another day. I pray you find that most times, when you are alone, and when you feel these thoughts consuming you, that you think of what is inside. A heart, lungs, a soul. These in it of itself, make you amazing. As you have always been, while I write about drowning in pain, there are brighter spots; it is these small things, that truly make life worth living.]

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  • kittenia / Gut-wrenching noises and hollowed-out thoughts. I cringe at the thought of you leaving me, I despise the thought of you staying. /

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    I can’t even ask what I’m supposed to write next. I guess I should ask what’s waiting to write me.


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  • I love the way the rain sounds when it falls outside. 
    The sound of little souls quickly reaching towards the Earth.
    I love the way it smells out there, when the storm blows on in.
    The ozone is electric and energetic, I sit here and breathe it in.
    I love the way it tastes falling on my curious tongue.
    The earthy taste connecting me to the everything it came from.
    I love the way it feels settling into my skin, face turned towards the Sky.
    The oldest things like pinpricks into my skin.
    I love the way I can watch it wash it all away.
    The way it cleanses the things from the Earth dirty or not.

    Could I please just pack the empty spaces with my senses from the Rain? 
    Letting it fill up my brain and nose and lungs so that I could drown on something
    A bit more pleasant than calm clear skies.

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  • She’s watered the earth 

    Like a garden

    With pieces of her heart.

    Her tears, her love, her pain, her joy

    Seep into the earth, the ground.

    Scattered from east to west,

    Here and there. 

    She’s been everywhere so fully,

    She’s not fully here.


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  • Oh I love the way you breathe,
    Warm and safe and steady.

    It burns me up inside.
    No it isn’t fire, the burn it doesn’t hurt.

    I could watch your chest
    With it’s steady rise and fall. 

    And fall away to ash,
    Comfortable with the burn.

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  • The sound of two people’s pain

    Colliding at the speed

    Of our harmonizing heartbeats,

    The rhythm of your breath

    Up and down, in and out.

    I feel it on my chest,

    Your breath on my neck.


    Naked and exposed,

    But covered by

    The emotions rushing

    Through our veins.

    Authenticity shattered

    By the sun’s rising.

    For the light exposes

    What the darkness hides,

    The naked truth.

    I don’t think you were

    Ever meant to be mine

    We were just

    Two broken people

    Who found solace

    In the echoes

    of the other’s misery.

    - Gigi Brumit

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