let flower gardens grow
in the cracks between your ribs
until marigolds and zinnias
burst forth from your chest
until you cannot breathe
without choking on lungfuls of happiness
you deserve everything beautiful in this world | @alovetoread16
1. stand in front of the mirror & look. look at all the imperfections branded on your skin. the mountain range of acne marching across your forehead, like troops preparing for battle. drag your fingers through the creases lining your eyes. admire the pencil smudges beneath your eyes (because you really should’ve started that English paper earlier).
2. run your arms up & down your body. finger the seams of your figure. & remember that every bump, every scar, every crater digging into the side of your body, tells a story. yes, you are imperfect, & yes, every piece of skin you have may be marred beyond repair. but, you have a thousand stories sewn into the very fabric of your body.
3. no, you may not be pretty. but you will always be beautiful. you will be beautiful even in this world where 'i am not pretty' is easier to swallow, easier to say, than 'i am beautiful'.
how to perfect the no-makeup makeup look | @alovetoread16
O goddess,
sing tonight not of the failures of men
nor of the hubris of icarus,
or of his scornful laugh & smile
(instead, sing of the gentle gasp he let out before breaking the surface of the sea)
& do not speak of the wax that burned his back & shoulders
in retribution for his pride
(speak instead of his grubby hands reaching out to catch the feathers floating past his face)
O goddess,
sing tonight not of the failures of men,
but of the humanity they possess
that always comes
just before
the
fall
even the gods are not invincible | @alovetoread16
you deserve the world, he tells me
you deserve every drop of dew
collected atop the windowsill
you deserve every sun beam
that illuminates our shadows,
kissing the tips of our noses
&, of course, you deserve
the gentle dimple in his left cheek
whenever he smiles
you deserve the world, he tells me
but don’t you know?
he deserves it far more
things i’ll never say to him | @alovetoread16
do not romanticize anxiety,
do not coax it into your lap
and snuggle with it on bitter winter mornings
because after it is done cuddling,
it will soak so far into your body
and fill the hollows of your bones
with its eternal darkness,
anchoring you to your seat with lead weights
it will ravage your body like
a forest fire
until you are burnt
to
nothing
but a
shell
1. you are not the phoenix rising from scattered ashes, no, that would be far too easy. you are not fire that licks at the ankles of hope, the fire that lends itself to destruction so readily. instead, you are the rain tumbling from the sky & the floods & the storms, inescapable in their power, in their finality. the tsunamis that crumble entire shorelines away, like a match to paper. you may not have fire in your soul, you do not need fire, don’t forget that thunder lies curled up in your rib cage, a dragon ready to strike.
2. revel in the wonder that is the universe, taste the moonlight seeping under your gums. & when your legs give out & your heart spills out of your chest & your bones splinter under their own weight, crawl home. bend & break & twist your own skelton into stars & galaxies. write your own story & splash it across the heavens. & above all, remember, you are made of stardust dripping from the wings of angels.
3. you have been crafted from god-hammered sheet metal. you have the blood of a thousand empresses running through your body. & the heart of a tigress rests heavy in your chest. run into battle, unafraid, relentless. because you are a warrior. fight until you crash into a heap on the ground, until you hit rock bottom. until the earth is the only thing holding your limp body up. & then drag yourself up & fight again. tattoo your dreams across the backs of your hands & into the weathered calluses lining your palm, until you can cup your entire world between your fingers.
4. & you are icarus throwing his arms out to the sky, wax scalding his flesh as he plummets into sweet, sweet oblivion. & you do not need to heed anyone’s warnings, you are not anyone’s saviour, do not wear their hopes & dreams like a burial shroud around your shoulders. live for yourself, live recklessly, let golden ichor drip from your fingertips. (&, isn’t better to have been singed by the sun than to have never flown at all?)
I posted a version of this poem earlier, but this the final, refined version that I like a lot better than the original!
rosētum
1.hummingbirds fluttering in my rib cage. & don’t you know? you hold my heart in your hands. i breathe you in like i breathe sin. then peel my skin away like petals, feel hope curling around my ear. & leave shattered flowers lining your pillowcase.
2. darling, we cry because thorn bushes dare to hold rosebuds, dare to have beauty. & hold still, taste the ichor dripping down your chin, sickly sweet & oh so strong. get drunk with the power it holds. & know that persephone was never forced to eat the pomegranate, she went willingly to her fate. do not confuse the rust on her skin with hurt, it is armor & she carries it well. & do not mistake her for another greek tragedy, she is not your lost maiden to save.
3. & her lips are painted with crimson juice, pomegranate seeds tucked into the soft swells of her skin. when she speaks, her voice rasps like sandpaper against honey. she says, this choice was mine & yes i am mine. & i echo it back to her. (& yes this body is mine.)
i write because
my lungs
are too full of words
to be able to speak
a single sentence
i inhale life, exhale poetry
you asked me why write?
because, darling, love is never
sultry red roses and dancing on tabletops
or boys with messy hair and perfect love letters
it’s smashed glass and shattered flowers
and boys with burning lips and oh-so perfect smiles
and it’s dark, twisted words that sound just like
i love you
and cinderella running away from the ball
because the prince is never who he seems
and darling, love is never what it seems
what is love?
when my daughter takes her first art class
i’m going to make sure she learns about
how Van Gogh used to eat yellow paint
(even if it isn’t true)
and when she comes home and asks
me why he used to eat yellow paint
i’m going to tell her
“because, darling, he wasn’t happy
and he might have needed some help to be happy”
and when she asks for yellow paint
to make her smile again
after she’s fallen off her bike
and scraped her knee in the driveway
i’ll feed her pineapples soaked
in the fresh summer rain
i’ll let her believe that Van Gogh
could swatch the sunrise across his canvas
and that the sunny dandelions scattered across the lawn
are his starry night sweeping across the yard
i’ll watch her scrape laughter
out from under her fingernails
and watch as her stubby hands
draw every stick figure in laser lemon yellow
and when she’s old enough to realize
that Van Gogh didn’t eat yellow paint,
she’ll already have flower gardens
growing along her spine
and she won’t need yellow paint
to make her
happy
the importance of the color yellow
F E M I N I S M.
when did a word so steeped in innocence
become curdled with patriarchal rage?
did it boil over on the stove for so long that
all the goodness evaporated until we were
left
with
nothing?
Hey tumblr!
Sorry I’ve been gone for so long, I’ve just been ridiculously busy with school and life in general. I just needed a little break from posting. But, I’m back now and I hope that I can continue posting on a somewhat regular schedule during the summer. So, here’s a short poem that I wrote a little while back:
my name
i hated my name
but the way you said it
made it sound like honey
dripping from your very lips
like cotton candy
at the fair
spun in a web of
heavenly goodness
it sounded like a secret
stashed in your back pocket,
a secret that only the two
of us ever shared
alovetoread16
11 Fun Facts About Me
Tagged by @magicviolist
1. I play the viola and the piano, but I really want to learn how to play the cello.
2. I am terrified of ants.
3. My favorite type of weather is fog, there’s something so mysterious about it that I love.
4. I cannot possibly tell you what my favorite book is, it’s like asking a parent to pick their favorite child.
5. I am a Slytherclaw :)
6. I really want to get a cat when I’m older.
7. I have a weird obsession with office supplies and stationery (especially fancy pens or pencils).
8. I want to travel to Peru and visit Machu Picchu one day.
9. I hate cooked carrots, raw carrots are just fine, but cooked ones have a really gross and mushy texture that I can’t stand.
10. I have a hobby of memorizing completely useless and random facts that I’m never going to use.
11. My favorite color is teal.
I’m tagging @catipurr and @lyricsbylittle
i wrote my first verse
in the back of my musty
fourth grade classroom
a limerick about
a silly fool named Bob
who met his untimely demise
after getting stuck to
a glue covered knob
and with that
i was addicted
i wrote poetry like a
broken record
spitting out rhymes
in my collage covered
notebook
i wrote again
& again
& again
until all the ink
had bled from
my veins
until all my words
had run dry
until the only thing
i could do was pick up my pen
& keep
on
writing
until
i fell
head
over
heels
in love
with
poetry
alovetoread16 reblogged
Maybe our stars just don’t align.
Hell, maybe we’re not even in the same universe.
(via mypenleaksiridescence)
Thoughts on the election
As a woman of color, I feel terrified for what the next four years will bring. I am still struggling to come to terms with what has occurred and I know that so many others across the world are, as well. If this many people are frightened for what will happen as a result of the election, we cannot possibly be on the right track to “make America great”. It is not right that a country with so many democratic ideals should elect such a xenophobic, racist, sexist, and homophobic president. I cannot express how much I despise him and his views on a multitude of subjects, but as deplorable as he is, this is the decision that our nation has reached. We need to come to terms with this fact, no matter how grim it is, and move on and make the best of our bleak situation. I think that America is still reeling form the shock of this election and we need sometime to heal, but hopefully everything will be okay. Just know that no matter what he says, no one will ever crush our voices, we will stand strong in the face of adversity. Please don’t further Trump’s hateful message, but spread love and kindness because that is what America needs right now. ♥️