Barnmousecries - Lu

Regrets from a princess,

Or a knight

Let’s call it a night.

My heart beckons me to your every call.

It races, it leaps, frolicking in some poisonous daises.

Why doesn’t it know any better?

Each day is a lesson learned

Each day is a prayer earned.

My hatred for syrup is the same as my feelings- a sticky situation that i can’t get myself out of.

I want to cry

And i cry.

I’m angry

Again.

I’m let down

Again

Our love is a garden

A garden that has rare flowers, bugs of all types,

And weeds.

You and i are the gardeners.

Do you tend to our flowers, our bugs, our weeds?

You let it blossom

We let it blossom into something beautiful

Sometimes we forget to water our garden

To care for it

Vines grew

With thorns we never knew

Till now

It’s okay to step away

It’s okay to take a break

The shovel, the watering can,

All of it will be here waiting

For you

For our love to bloom

I understand that you blink and life goes by

You blink and everything is not

What it once was

Colonizers write about flowers. I tell you about children throwing rocks at Israeli tanks seconds before becoming daisies. I want to be like those poets who care about the moon. Palestinians don’t see the moon from jail cells and prisons. It’s so beautiful, the moon. They’re so beautiful, the flowers.

— Noor Hindi, from “Fuck Your Lecture on Craft, My People Are Dying,” DEAR GOD. DEAR BONES. DEAR YELLOW.

thank you to trees and also rain

i don’t listen to perfect places by lorde for a few months then it comes on and i feel reborn cause we are young and we’re ashamed. sends us to perfect places all of our heroes fading now i can’t stand to be alone let’s go to perfect places all the nights spent off our faces tryna find these perfect places what the fuck are perfect places anyway all the nights spent off our faces tryna find these perfect places what the fuck are perfect places anyway. all the nights spent off our faces. tryna find these perfect places what the fuck are perfect places. anyway.

So they are hazel.

The gleam in your eyes, the way the sun hits them, and 

Makes you shine. 

Your smile- 

It beams with life. 

I’d love to see you dance, to see your body fly. 

You say you can’t sing, and that you’d wish you took 

Singing lessons as a kid, 

But darling your voice is a river, and it flows and flows 

And flows, 

Sure, you’re not peaceful, my chaotic little sunshine, 

I love the way you toss and turn throughout the 

Night. You’re blindingly breathtaking. Every word that 

Leaves your mouth is passionately formed from your soul 

And mind. 

You’re a mess. 

Not to be cliche- but a beautiful mess. You astonish me 

With every move you make.

Your laughter is honey to my ears. 

You make me listen, and see peacefully for once. 

Dear hazel eyes,  please don’t leave my side. 

Looking through old photos and I found one of my junior homecoming dance. It was the night after my dad's funeral. My friend who'd stayed with me the entire week, in my bed, through all the tears, made me get out of bed that night. She pulled my shirt up over my head and told me to get in the shower. She washed my hair for me. She curled it. She rubbed foundation onto my face, lined my eyes, and put me in my dress.

She contacted my other friends who were feeling awkward and unsure of what to do and told them the party was still on, to meet at my house for photos before the dance.

They all showed up, and I went to the dance, and we all screamed and cried, and I took my first step to healing.

I haven't spoken to that girl in five years. Nothing happened. I moved away. She fell in love. We grew apart and into our own lives.

It's strikes me how beautiful the ephermeral nature of teenage friendships can be.

We may not need each other now, but there was a time when I needed her more than anyone. And sometimes she needed me.

And the universe put us together just then. Just when it was most important. Not a year too late or too soon. The same town, the same school, the same classroom where we could meet. Right when it mattered.

We come and go from people's lives every day, and along the way we may get a chance to love someone fully, just for a little while.

I'll remember every single one.

Lit Hub has published a list of 40 Books to Understand Palestine put together by "several dozen Palestinian and Palestinian-American authors, as well as a number of other writers whose work and advocacy has focused on Palestine". Please consider reading and supporting Palestinian literature <3

they’re called rabbits when they’re underground and they’re called bunnies when they break out from the earths crust

i love you because i don’t know how to love myself

because it’s so much easier than loving myself