Love is a language I speak in stolen breath,
A blade that presses softly where my soul forgets to rest.
It is not tender when it wants to be, but raw in ways I cannot dress
I reach for it through a mirror made of smoke,
My hands find only symphonies of the warmth I thought I'd hold.
There is a violence in the way it asks me to be whole
A drowning that feels warm
I wonder if to love is to be emptied or to pour,
To give until the giving is a hunger at my core
It hides in all the places where I'm softest and exposed,
Which are none, but an old bruise that blooms in colors only I have come to know
Perhaps it was never meant to fill, but only to erode
To carve me into something I was terrified to be,
A shape that doesn't fit inside the safety of my sleep
And still I chase it, knowing it will never let me keep
The version of myself I was before it made me bleed
Love is not the answer, but the question underneath,
A truth I'll spend forever trying not to need
#Trying Not To Need
34 messages · Page 1 of 1 (latest)
Its 5:27 am and i should sleep but NAAAH
Im here
Reading masterpieces
Godamn bro
Oh please 😭
It's a random scribble I came up with while reading about paradigms of operant conditioning
“The version of myself i was before it made me bleed,
Love is not the answer, but the question”
These words made me remmeber things that i didnt wanted

Amazing bro
Amazing
This was my take at writing a depiction of love that's accurate according to the psychology textbooks rather than sole poetry
Is it nostalgia or PTSD?
Thanks!
Some kind of past love
Is still love when you love alone right?
Thats a great question
Truly something to think about
@wicked seal is now following @chilly spire.
I don't often write much, exams gonna be the end of me
I appreciate it🙂
Dont die please
Just on the paper
And let me read when it happens

Have a great day or night sir
Let's hope so
And you should perhaps sleep
Sure!