If you've known me for long enough then you know that I absolutely adore reading poetry. It is one of my favourite genres to write and to read, I adore how it makes you feel and how powerful those words on a page can actually be. Rebecca Holland's Through My Good Eye is just that - it grabs [...]
i'm being pulled apart. limbs stretching, tendons tearing I can't seem to hold onto - thoughts, feelings, [...]
there's an acknowledgement, i guess, in the silence. we don't let our lips pull apart. just a moment, filled with the heaving of our breaths. i don't really feel guilty in taking what i want. you broke me, now: you're the one crawling on your knees, begging for my hands my lips my heat [...]
what are we? fighters with no one to fight, wars that aren't our own. working ourselves to the bone the neverending story, on repeat. will it ever change? sometimes i sit small, curl myself up, contemplating the earth that i won't witness. to busy being dead. think about it. our lives are so [...]
i feel the world - dizzying at times, an illusion. i stand on the precipice unknowing of my place. do i even exist?
she lived in her own mind, it was where she felt safest. no one could take her thoughts away - they held her power, her truth. they could (they have) take away her humanity, her rights; use her body for their gain. but this, here, was hers. she's readying the fire to throw the flames. [...]
sometimes i think we won't make it. that's my biggest fear - that we will accidentally, intentionally hurt each other in the worst way possible. there would be no going back from that. when doors are slammed, voices raised, words breaking, jaws clenching. when we forget, for a moment, how to love. instead - we [...]
