Sometimes I Just Think Depression’s One Way Of Coping With The World. Like, Some People Get Drunk,

Inst @rikkekrefting

Her

Poetry is when a heart aches of love, pure genuine love, an offspring of happiness. It is when tears run down your cheeks due to the amount of love one can feel. it allows you a moment of pure ecstasy, so hypnotic to the eye of one who has once felt that pure love. Poetry is art. Art that creates ethereal imagery in your heart, and mind.

28/10

i don't pay attention to the world ending. it has ended for me many times and began again in the morning.

― Nayyirah Waheed, Salt

“There’s so much more to life than finding someone who will want you, or being sad over someone who doesn’t. There’s a lot of wonderful time to be spent discovering yourself without hoping someone will fall in love with you along the way, and it doesn’t need to be painful or empty. You need to fill yourself up with love. Not anyone else. Become a whole being on your own. Go on adventures, fall asleep in the woods with friends, wander around the city at night, sit in a coffee shop on your own, write on bathroom stalls, leave notes in library books, dress up for yourself, give to others, smile a lot. Do all things with love, but don’t romanticize life like you can’t survive without it. Live for yourself and be happy on your own. It isn’t any less beautiful, I promise.”

— Emery Allen (via wordsnquotes)

WHEN ALL MY FAVORITE CHARACTERS IN A BOOK ARE KILLED OFF

“Step into my poem, I will be there for your heart, in this gondola of rain and hope.”

—

"Aphrodite", I pleaded to the moon drenched night sky "Tell me"; if love is meant to heal, then why does it destroy those who choose it?" from somewhere beyond the clouds, i heard the Goddess laugh. And i knew.

Nikita Gill - Night Songs to Aphrodite

Our minds are scattered all over space and time

I looked at you

And saw you

Looking at me

Eyes full of wonder

What could you have been thinking?

I thought about

Our world of wonders

And that there are more dead people than stars in the sky

But I still wish upon a star

Cause we come from stardust and we will return to the universe

As a star shining so bright

What could have I been thinking?

Your words, I contemplate on them

Like a lone sage in a silent pilgrimage

Feeling for the most minute

Movement of Spirit

Your words they compel me

To look up the night sky

And see not stars

But a whole new story

Of what Was, Is and Is To Come

A line age so ancient

My spirit falls down on its knees

In reverence to the stars

I looked at you

And I swear I saw galaxies in your eyes

Eyes full of stardust

The reflection of our universe

My mind can’t understand

The infinity of our galaxy

Yet this feels like a small infinity

I want this moment to last forever

So I wish upon a star

Hopefully my wish shoots up into the sky

To become one with the stardust surrounding us

James P. Onse & Lexi

My first magical poetry collaboration with @jamesponse here’s to more☄️✨

Have you ever heard the story of the glowing planet?

Some thought that it was a wandering star with gigantic craters, that revealed the light at its innermost core.

Others assumed that its shell had cracked and searing lava was making its way across the surface; always flowing, always glowing.

There were scientists that hypothesised about burning gas pits or bioluminesent monsters roaming the planet’s rocky exterior.  

And then there were the poets and the dreamers, who pondered that maybe, just maybe, the planet was at the middle of its own infinitesimal galaxy, drawing in tiny stars and gathering their beauty in fiery clusters.

                               ＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

But only some of the bravest explorers, brazen enough to get too close, could ever ascertain the truth behind the sparkling planet.

Could see that for all the assumptions of bioluminescence it wasn’t the indwelling creatures that lightened up the vast darkness surrounding them, but that they had caught the lights;

perhaps the radiant sunlight of their solar system itself or maybe the electric currents crackling in their atmosphere.

The explorers bemoaned that these creatures might never know the beauty that their masterpiece had gifted to the universe.

But when the speckled lights reflected in the many eyes of the species passing through the void, the younglings excitedly pointing to the shapes they thought to see in them, or a lost ship was able to resume its route because of this landmark, they knew, the galaxy was richer for it.

      - A love letter to Planet Earth