install theme

The clouds get so full that
they spill all over our rooftops,
and the poets say they’re sad. It
doesn’t take long for the sky
to be bright blue and endless,
and so what if that gives me
hope? I’ve spilled out a
million times and I’ve stopped
being ashamed about it since
I’ve compared it with the
weather. Everything has a
season, even me; nothing can
be heavy forever, not even
the clouds.

- Rebeka Anne, reply to J.D. Salinger (“Poets are always taking the weather so personally. They’re always sticking their emotions in things that have no emotions”)

The clouds get so full that
they spill all over our rooftops,
and the poets say they’re sad. It
doesn’t take long for the sky
to be bright blue and endless,
and so what if that gives me
hope? I’ve spilled out a
million times and I’ve stopped
being ashamed about it since
I’ve compared it with the
weather. Everything has a
season, even me; nothing can
be heavy forever, not even
the clouds.

- Rebeka Anne, reply to J.D. Salinger (“Poets are always taking the weather so personally. They’re always sticking their emotions in things that have no emotions”)
, #poetry #poem #spilled ink #poets on tumblr #depression #i got am anon question asking if I would still be a poet if I could choose not to be #and the answer is no #poetry has helped me through so much I need it #does it make me ridiculous sometimes #well yea #but art is the thing that makes me special I think

It is wretched how your
love for him aches like a sick
animal, howling and unable to
put itself out of its misery. It
is wretched how you must
take it out back and give an early
end to what will only be a slow
and painful continuing.
You’ll look at your hands
for months and wonder
if you did the right thing.

- Rebeka Anne, don’t leave hope in the dying hands of a futureless something
, #poetry #poem #spilled ink #poets on tumblr #breakup #prompt: how do I leave how do I stay gone

My grandma once told me that
when she was growing up she
always liked sad songs best. She
said it was beautiful to feel
and if a song made her cry it
became her favourite. Maybe I
don’t always choose people who
know how to handle breakable
things gently, but I know how to
give my heart to people who
will make me cry, and I know
somehow it always makes me
feel more alive.

- Rebeka Anne, heartbreak addiction
, #poetry #poem #spilled ink #poets on tumblr #heartbreak #prompt: I'm addicted to having my heart broken #my best girl friend once told me she thinks her and I are addicted to heartbreak too #I don't know maybe I am

He is always my biggest smile
of the day and the one who
holds my secrets; his title is
‘best’ because he is that for
me. When two trees grow
close enough together, their
roots wind up and become
one single mess - it’s around
that spot where I lost my
heart to him. Sometimes I
think I must have his too.

- Rebeka Anne, and it’s here that the story becomes a romance or a tragedy
, #poetry #poem #spilled ink #poets on tumblr #bff #prompt: about being in love with a guy best friend #fyi I get about 1 of these exact prompts a week #I usually don't do them because I've done a few and it gets repetitive #but it's been a while #so #:) #sloppyjoes #bringing back that tag #it's been a while

When your heart first lights for
someone, you cover its mouth.
You hush it and tell it to be
cool. Please be cool. You wait
for it to grow until it warms
your whole body and then you
can feel it in your teeth every
time you’re together. You can
hear those words rattling inside
every ‘goodnight’. You’re waiting
for the right time, or to work
up the courage, or for it to get
so big it leaks out when you’re
falling asleep and your guard’s
down. When it’s out, it hangs
in the air like smoke. You wait
to see if there’s fire in your
partner’s heart too.

- Rebeka Anne, I’m falling in love with you
, #poetry #poem #spilled ink #poets on tumblr #love #prompt: he said he was falling for me when he was falling asleep

You’ve never been needed
before so you’re devouring
it like the first time you
tasted buttercream frosting.
You become terrified of
being un-needed because
need has become like a leash
on a dog and without it, what
if they won’t stay? The
problem with need is that it’s
not choice, and it’s not until
they don’t need you that
you’ll see if they’d choose you.

- Rebeka Anne, the problem with need
, #poetry #poem #spilled ink #poets on tumblr #need #idk
^