I Will Write About You Until My Hand Aches And My Heart Does Not.

NEW POETRY!

some weeks ago, my line breaks woke me up before sunrise. they pinched my temples while whispering in my ear: stop caging us in your dark corners, we’re much more than that. 

& they’re right; ever since poetry found me trying to escape the wild beasts in my heart, i’ve been keeping them in the back of who i am. shouting to the world this is all of me but please don’t look at that. i can’t do this to my saver. my haven deserves to be honored. 

i’m skin the poet, a writer putting it all out: poems, thoughts, line breaks & rhymes. my shortcoming & my light. all for you. I’m here for other poets out there, to engage in a world with you. please feel free to comment on my works or link me your own poetry. 

love  xx 

@skinthepoet

our love burned hot and bright, but baby, not even forest fires can burn forever

burningbridgets (via wnq-writers)

between black & white, gray

in my dreams, we hold hands & laugh at the idiocy of ancient obsessions & insecurities. we walk on lonely beaches & dance with nature in rainy jungles barely known to humankind.

in my nightmares, i run to escape    wild dragons     & memories. the blues often tackle me, & when my body slaps the ground, the labyrinth i'm trapped in whispers in my ear:

"running is useless, boy. you're a caged monster too"

- @skinthepoet

lets do an honesty hour ask me anything

What a view to wake up to - Sapa, Vietnam

www.facebook.com/louisecoghillphotography

www.louisecoghill.com.au

@louisetakesphotos

I couldn’t quite comprehend what betrayal was, but suddenly with your knife in my back - betrayal has never tasted so bittersweet.

j.b.r - 17.05.16 (via lucid-vissions)

Writing requires discipline, but disciplined writers are not necessarily prolific. Most good work gets produced over time, sometimes many years, allowing the writer to grow with the material, to allow her world, her command over craft, and her psychological maturity to coalesce at just the right moment to produce something of value. This process often involves dreadful periods of not writing, or, worse, periods of writing very badly, embarrassingly badly. As time passes in a writing life, the writer learns not to fear these arid periods. The words come back eventually. That’s the real discipline: to train the mind and heart into believing that words come back. … Be willing to wait. In the meantime, write when you don’t feel like it. If you can’t write, read.

Monica Wood, The Pocket Muse (masculine pronouns changed to feminine)

I needed to hear this today.

(via savetheteaboy)

And again today.

(via one-bite-at-a-time)

(See also: the Law of Undulations)