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we were emergencies- buddy wakefield

We can stick anything into the fog and make it look like a ghost but tonight let us not become tragedies. We are not funeral homes with propane tanks in our windows, lookin’ like cemeteries. Cemeteries are just the Earth’s way of not letting go. Let go. Tonight let’s turn our silly wrists so far backwards the razor blades in our pencil tips can’t get a good angle on all that beauty inside. Step into this with your airplane parts. Move forward and repeat after me with your heart: “I no longer need you to fuck me as hard as I hated myself.” Make love to me like you know I am better than the worst thing I ever did. Go slow. I’m new to this. But I have seen nearly every city from a rooftop without jumping. I have realized that the moon did not have to be full for us to love it, that we are not tragedies stranded here beneath it, that if my heart really broke every time I fell from love I’d be able to offer you confetti by now. But hearts don’t break, y’all, they bruise and get better. We were never tragedies. We were emergencies. You call 9 – 1 – 1. Tell them I’m having a fantastic time.

@mossyelfie

Aug 6, 2024

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Someday i’ll love ocean Vuong

Ocean, don’t be afraid.  The end of the road is so far ahead  it is already behind us.  Don’t worry. Your father is only your father  until one of you forgets. Like how the spine  won’t remember its wings  no matter how many times our knees  kiss the pavement. Ocean,  are you listening? The most beautiful part  of your body is wherever  your mother’s shadow falls.  Here’s the house with childhood  whittled down to a single red tripwire.  Don’t worry. Just call it horizon & you’ll never reach it.  Here’s today. Jump. I promise it’s not  a lifeboat. Here’s the man  whose arms are wide enough to gather  your leaving. & here the moment,  just after the lights go out, when you can still see  the faint torch between his legs.  How you use it again & again  to find your own hands.  You asked for a second chance  & are given a mouth to empty into.  Don’t be afraid, the gunfire  is only the sound of people  trying to live a little longer. Ocean. Ocean,  get up. The most beautiful part of your body  is where it’s headed. & remember,  loneliness is still time spent  with the world. Here’s  the room with everyone in it.  Your dead friends passing  through you like wind  through a wind chime. Here’s a desk  with the gimp leg & a brick  to make it last. Yes, here’s a room  so warm & blood-close,  I swear, you will wake—  & mistake these walls  for skin.

@mouse

Jul 1, 2024

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no title can express my sorrow

there's no standard treatment for a broken heart. i sigh quietly to myself, thinking i’ll actually find an answer on how to heal a broken heart on google it all began five years ago, when i finally started spending time with him—the boy who seemed to shine a little brighter than the rest. he was the kindest, the prettiest, the one who made my heart feel lighter just by existing. and he wanted to be my friend. how could i not fall? kept the friendship up for a couple of years and my crush for him grew even stronger. sometimes he would come up in my dreams and then i would try to summon fate itself—manifesting, wishing, aching for him to love me back. because, as every girl knows, there is always a phase where we believe the universe listens. and so, i rinsed and repeated, hoping one day, he would look at me the way I looked at him when we messaged or meet up, he felt like my twin flame. a connection so deep, so natural, that i convinced myself he must feel it too. he understood me, and i understood him but i never felt that he liked me as much as i liked him. and then, it ended—not with a dramatic farewell, not with a grand confession, but with silence. I ruined it in my own quiet way: fading out, withdrawing, blocking him, letting the messages go unanswered. I stopped reaching out, and so did he. it was as if we had been a story left unfinished, pages ripped from the book before the final chapter could be written it has been four months since we last spoke. and now, he has a girlfriend. may I add—throughout our years of friendship, he never had one. situationships, yes, but never something real. yet, here she is. not me. the day I found out, it struck me in a way I hadn’t expected. I had let him slip from my thoughts, let weeks pass without missing him—until I saw what I had once longed for, in the hands of someone else. I hadn’t realized I was still holding onto the dream until it shattered before me. now, my mind drifts to what could have been. I picture myself in her place, feel the ghost of a life that was never mine. would he have loved me, if I had held on? if I had tried? was I ever good enough for him? wasn’t I pretty enough for him…? why… her… not… me…? time is meant to heal. i know this. but this wound runs deep. losing someone you once felt connected to in the deepest corners of your soul is a quiet kind of grief, the kind that doesn’t announce itself loudly but lingers in the spaces between thoughts. my heart feels heavy, my soul even heavier but today, i miss him more than usually. i’ve fallen to deep, so now every time i think of him, i will miss him deeply.

@lukrecija

Feb 28, 2025

Top Recs from @mouse

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STAINED GLASS HUNTING

I am by no means traditionally religious, but I fully understand how being in the presence of beautiful stained glass can feel like being with god. ALWAYS stop off at a church on the way if you think it might have good stained glass. The bluebells in the bottom right corner of this made me loose my breath for a moment.

@mouse

2d ago

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PICNIC WITH YOUR FRIENDS

No better high than this

@mouse

Apr 14, 2025

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Pi.fyi friends

I used to be envious of people who had “MySpace friends” or “tumblr friends”. Now I have PI.FYI friends. Thank you capyboppy for your lovely letter and this illustration of a capybara and a mouse with fruit on our heads, it made me weirdly emotional ❤️

@mouse

Jun 11, 2024