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  • 1 week ago
  • 366278

I tend to think you’re fearless when you recognize why you should be scared of things, but do them anyway.

Christian Bale (via thatlitsite)
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  • 2 weeks ago
  • 297

We only part
to meet again.

riceispoetry (via riceispoetry)
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  • 2 weeks ago
  • 311

I wouldn’t expect someone who never wrote a poem
to understand these verses,
as I write them now 
for more curious eyes, and for
gentle hearts, the ones who
can be touched by words.
I wouldn’t expect someone who never wrote a poem
to understand it’s not about the rhymes,
it’s all about the rhythm, but more
than that,
it’s about the feeling. There’s really no poem,
no poet, no verse
if you don’t let yourself feel
everything.

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  • #poetry #poem #spilled ink #lit #creative writing
  • 3 weeks ago
  • 9

If you’ll have me, I’m yours.

six-word story
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  • #six word story #poetry #quote #lit #spilled ink #love
  • 3 weeks ago
  • 82

You know when you see someone on the street, and only by the way they look, or the way they walk, or the way they wear jeans and sunglasses, or even the way they talk on the phone, loudly and happily… You know when you desire to get to know those people? For no reason at all… Maybe by the way they shake their feet when listening to music on their headphones, and how that makes you wanna dance. All the time. Do you know what I’m talking about? I feel that all the time. I see people. I really see them. And I guess all I wanted was for someone to see me, for a change. But it’s not that I feel invisible. I just have this feeling inside that I’m somehow different from everybody, but it seems only I notice the difference. It’s like walking outside in flip-flops when it’s raining because your foot is bruised and have no one asking why the hell you’re wearing flip-flops, you know?

Do you know?
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  • #quote #lit #spilled ink #creative writing #prose #feelings
  • 3 weeks ago
  • 11

Poetry is you and me,
together.

six-word story
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  • #poetry #six word story #quote #lit #spilled ink #creative writing
  • 4 weeks ago
  • 10

Sabe quando você vê alguém na rua, e só pelo jeito que eles parecem, o jeito que eles caminham ou usam os óculos escuros… O jeito que eles falam no telefone, ou quando sorriem para a tela de três polegadas com uma alegria vívida… Sabe quando você tem vontade de conhecer essas pessoas? Pelo modo como eles se balançam ao som da música muito alta nos fones de ouvido, e como isso te deixa com vontade de dançar também. O tempo todo. Ou o modo como eles parecem que acabaram de acordar, mesmo sendo meio-dia? Me dá vontade de perguntar o que deixou eles de pé até tarde. Sem nenhum motivo… Eu preciso de motivo? E perguntar para a moça de cabelos vermelhos porque ela está com lágrimas nos olhos, com esse dia lindo. Você sabe do que eu tô falando? Eu sinto isso o tempo todo. Eu vejo as pessoas. Eu realmente as vejo. E eu acho que eu só queria, para variar, que alguém me visse. Mas não é como se eu me sentisse invisível. Eu só tenho essa sensação de que eu sou diferente de todo mundo ao meu redor, de algum modo, mas só eu percebo essa diferença. É como estar com o pé machucado e sair de chinelos em um dia de chuva e ninguém saber e te perguntar por que diabos você está de chinelos, sabe?

Você sabe?
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  • #literatura #prosa #poesia #escrita criativa
  • 1 month ago

Tonight I saw you again.
Not on the train,
or the streets, or on
that little square of grass
we used to sit to watch the sky
among tall buildings of a city that burned too bright
to let us see stars.
Tonight I saw you
through the words I wrote
to describe your hair and
the way you’d always smile at me
before leaving for the day.
I saw you in rhymes and
metaphors, and the way you marked my body
in ink, scarring me in a way
only you could.
I saw you
while looking through mountains
of memories, and I recalled the way I keep them
deep within my blood,
and it broke my heart.

You did it again. (via apoetslifeforme)
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  • #poetry #quote #lit #spilled ink #creative writing #love
  • 1 month ago
  • 42

apoetslifeforme:

“I don’t know if I ever told you this” she whispered, in the middle of the silence and between her too loud not to notice heartbeats, a shy smile built up in her face. “But I write poetry.”

“Poetry? Like with rhymes, funny words and all?” she could feel him smiling, and that made her laugh.

“No, not like that” she told him. “With feelings.”

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  • #lit #spilled ink #creative writing #diaologue #poetry
  • 1 month ago
  • 21
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