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💧
These are not my teardrops daughter dear
But just a sheen of dew that lingers here
Past other fields where other fathers lie
Who kept their daughters better far than I
May 26, 2025
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✍️May again,
and poems leaf out
from this old typewriter
shading the desk in half-light.
You at a college desk study different poems,
hold them warily by their dry stems-
so many leaves pressed to death
in a heavy book.
When you forget again to call it’s poet and parent both that you deny. This is what I didn’t know I knew.
You woke up on the wrong side of my life. For years I counted myself to sleep on all the ways I might lose you: death in its many-coloured coat lounged at the schoolhouse door, delivered the milk, drove the carpool.
Now I catalogue leaves instead on a weeping cherry. It doesn’t really weep, nor do poets cry, so amazed they are at the prosody of pain.
You have a way with words yourself you never asked for. Though you disguise them as best you can in Gothic misspellings there they stand in all their new muscle. You will use them against me perhaps, but you will use them.
When you forget again to call it’s poet and parent both that you deny. This is what I didn’t know I knew.
You woke up on the wrong side of my life. For years I counted myself to sleep on all the ways I might lose you: death in its many-coloured coat lounged at the schoolhouse door, delivered the milk, drove the carpool.
Now I catalogue leaves instead on a weeping cherry. It doesn’t really weep, nor do poets cry, so amazed they are at the prosody of pain.
You have a way with words yourself you never asked for. Though you disguise them as best you can in Gothic misspellings there they stand in all their new muscle. You will use them against me perhaps, but you will use them.
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🖋i close my eyes
and i see hers
oh, i love her eyes
gleaming and sparkling
a look i’ve never seen before
her body on mine
oh, i love her body
her hands explore me
oh, i love her hands
feeling where nobody has been before
i say her name
oh, i love her name
time has stopped
there’s no telling what’s reality
my head floats
my stomach flutters
i feel amazing
oh, i love her
my body tenses
i grab her hands
oh, i love her hands
she kisses me
i collapse into her
oh, i love her
i open my eyes
she’s not here
her eyes
her body
her hands
her love
none of it’s here
it’s all gone
i search for it
i demand it
i need it
i crave it
oh, i love her
oh, i love her
oh, i love her
how could someone i love so much
hurt me this bad?
and why am i not mad at her?
oh, i love her
Jul 8, 2025
Rec
⭐you know,
all i like to write about is love.
writing is easier when it’s about your own personal experiences of grief, of pain
but love is the beautiful dove of the two
released at a funeral, released at a wedding.
,
because the definition is different for everybody.
—
the trees rustle again tonight, and the wind gently taps on the windowpane, begging again to be let in and my thoughts race farther and faster in the night than a pure-bred, hot-blooded racehorse, bucking wild for the first time my mind buzzes, stricken like a gong, reverberating in the quietness of tonight as i drag myself closer to you, you reach out for me, an unspoken, gentle and devout prayer, asking for me in the unspeakable words conveyed in a whisper through actions – i promised you a fantastical world of your own, where you are safe, through my own creation. i have created for you in the heart of my own somewhere for me to love you, fully and infinitely with all of myself. if this is not where you are safe, then there is nothing else. – word by word and sentence by sentence i create dreams i would never tell anybody not even under the skies of a cloudless night. when i sleep, i tuck my hopes and sadness under my pillow and hope a fairy will kidnap it and place in that spot something i should need more. but night after night, my dreams just macerate in the container of my heart. soon, i will drink them like an elixir of truth and what i am afraid of will come
—
the trees rustle again tonight, and the wind gently taps on the windowpane, begging again to be let in and my thoughts race farther and faster in the night than a pure-bred, hot-blooded racehorse, bucking wild for the first time my mind buzzes, stricken like a gong, reverberating in the quietness of tonight as i drag myself closer to you, you reach out for me, an unspoken, gentle and devout prayer, asking for me in the unspeakable words conveyed in a whisper through actions – i promised you a fantastical world of your own, where you are safe, through my own creation. i have created for you in the heart of my own somewhere for me to love you, fully and infinitely with all of myself. if this is not where you are safe, then there is nothing else. – word by word and sentence by sentence i create dreams i would never tell anybody not even under the skies of a cloudless night. when i sleep, i tuck my hopes and sadness under my pillow and hope a fairy will kidnap it and place in that spot something i should need more. but night after night, my dreams just macerate in the container of my heart. soon, i will drink them like an elixir of truth and what i am afraid of will come
May 2, 2025
Top Recs from @mad1
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I have been sick in bed for about 4 days and didn’t have much to look at, but my bed is littered with these wrappers. Maybe it’s the cold medicine talking, but I think the design is so beautiful. I love the color yellow lately and I love the flowers on the twisty ends. I hate the minimalist logo trend and I deeply miss when design logos/packaging used to all be so unique and interesting, and have intricate drawings.
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I got this spam text or wrong number text (?) yesterday, and haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since. I really hope if it was real, whoever’s meemaw or peepaw this is got in contact with whoever it was they meant to text.