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Hello from your friendly neighborhood quiet girl.

@1-insert-name-here-1

introvert, i write too much poetry, i read too much poetry, i have an unhealthy obsession with hamilton and john green books. Welome.
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hey world - it’s been awhile

no, i have not died.

my poetry has lived on Instagram, under the username of @breathingstanzas

and i thought maybe it was time that i fully introduce myself to you - in the most genuine form.

  • my name is undisclosed, it will remain this way.
  • my birthday is on april 8th, which is coming up
  • i type in exclusively lowercase letters
  • i am vehemently pro-vaccine
  • i am 1000% happier now then the last time i logged onto this blog
  • i play the clarinet
  • i lack the attribute of “forgiving people”... whatever that means lol
  • i highly disapprove of identifying children as gifted before grade 5. (this is coming from a ‘gifted’ student)
  • sometime i wish the assholes that mess with my friends would mess with me the same way - because I would never let them get away with it
  • i don’t believe in star signs but i bet you are reading this and saying “such an Aries”
  • my life is chaotic so i prefer for this space to remain sane
  • i have never felt save here - i want to change that
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Dearest old flame,

Why I keep looking back is a mystery to me

I keep washing my gaze over those years old words like the sea does to the sand every passing second

I don’t get it-

I should live in contentment

Amidst my deepest contemptment-

Perhaps it because

I wish those words

Came from him

Instead of her

I can paint the images of his silky voice reading them to me in the depths of the night

But alas, I cannot have everything, right?

Dearest old flame,

I credit ever single syllable to you

Every single late night, red cheeked thought

I credit you with awakening the deepest desire I didn’t think existed

I was convinced I was too shallow for that

Dearest old flame,

May our wishes live on dandelion seeds

May our soft-skinned brushes bring those fabulous rushing memories back

Dearest old flame,

You taught me how to let someone else love me.

For that, I thank you

——————

She’s back and she’s vulnerable

You know who you are

Also- protip- the newest flame doesn’t know that I had a •~thing~• with a female so let’s not tell him? I don’t know how he’ll take it

Thanks xx

Poems from a lonely girl

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some very close to my family died in an accident two nights ago.

he was so young.

he was really the only man not related to me who taught me from a young age how a man should treat a lady- with dignity and respect.

he always made me feel equal- even when I was little, and never treated me as a fragile child.

and all the sudden he was just

gone.

he was on his motorcycle and a car hit him.

he was pinned under neath it when emergency services hit there

they had to jack the truck up to get him out.

and he was just gone.

and crash reconstruction is a great thing,

we know it wasn’t his fault.

but we also know he saw it coming

and he knew

because the crash reconstruction told us

that the reason he got under the truck

was because he was trying to put his bike down

because he didn’t want to run head on into the car.

that’s what hurts the most

he knew

he knew that he was going to get hurt

he probably knew he was going to die

i can’t stop imagining the look on his face

i miss him so much

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Lost

Lives in a hastily drawn tent

Filled with broken breath

And full dreams-

Lost resides among

Empty stomachs,

Broken and breaking

Tiredly surviving-

She sleeps on a pillow of unadulterated hope,

Her armor from the world hatefilled philippic-

Lost lives the notion

Of this new generations emotion,

She breathes in the Baby Boomer’s static

And exhales music

Laced with change.

Even in this plight

All she has is fight

Lost may be lost

But she’s not losing

——————

I actually wrote this as someone’s homework for them- but I’m putting it here because people deserve to know is from me :)

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I miss you

And our conversations

And our ironic relations

And I think this

Made us friends.

I miss you

Even if

Didn’t necessarily want to

Kiss you

Even if I sort of pretended to

I miss you.

I miss you

But I don’t know how

To talk to you

You have a lot of what I’ve always wanted,

You’ve done what I have wanted to do

And I miss you.

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If the greatest painter

To ever have lived

Asked me to be his muse

I would tell him

To paint me beautiful.

Paint me wondering

Paint the galaxies in my eyes and the constellations that outreach my optic nerves

I would ask him to paint me lemon iced tea caramel-

And butterscotch golden.

I would tell him to forgo my scars,

Or the broken pastry stretch marks that coat my thighs

And my hips

And my stomach

I would tell him to forgot

My rosacea stained cheeks

Or my rubbed raw eyes

I would tell him to erase my pain soaked smile

That one that tells me it will be alright

Again and again

And again and again-

-

-

If the greatest painter

To ever have lived

Asked me to be his muse

I would tell him

To paint me beautiful

Paint me a lie

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im sick to my stomach all the time

my period was eight days late

i am so stressed i am exhasted 

i dont know how to help myself

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I have not logged into tumblr from my computer in so long. Mobile is just my go to

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