immortal loving a mortal; you need to stop, you need to stop, you need to–
keep kissing him, let your fingers trace down his jawline and to his chest. put your hand on his heart.
know that one day it will stop beating. and when it does, know that yours will too.
”
!!!
[Caption:
A page of a poetry book reading: “How I Became a Lesbian” by Becky Birtha.
“It’s not that you
become this way
so much as it is
something you always were
someone you one day realize
you are
like the discovery
that you would have always loved
starfruit
kiwis or
mangoes
only you never knew they existed until
you were halfway through your life.
Maybe you remember the day you
discovered mangoes
when you and a friend
fed thick, pulpy slices
into each other
mouths open in astonishment.
Maybe you remember
your first taste-
and the startling comprehension
of the possibilities
of life in a world that included
this incredible
sweet
reality.
(end caption)]
the poet who did the cow poem also did this Nice Guy Poem, its great.
this is the hero we’ve been waiting for
Fact: Bisexual women and lesbians used to give each other violets to symbolize their love in the early 20th century, referencing a poem by Sappho. Gay and bisexual men used to wear carnations, a trend started by Oscar Wilde. Gay and bisexual communities have always been intertwined, sharing in each other’s love and struggles and creating history together.
Carnations are red
Violets are blue
But both used to mean
I’m so gay for youreblogging for the most romantic poem i’ve ever read.
by Sara Teasdale
There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;
And frogs in the pools singing at night,
And wild plum trees in tremulous white;
Robins will wear their feathery fire,
Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;
And not one will know of the war, not one
Will care at last when it is done.
Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree,
If mankind perished utterly;
And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn
Would scarcely know that we were gone.
I cannot get this poem out of my head. It haunts me. Joyously, it haunts me.
in another thread, this user writes:
my name is Dog,
and wen its tea,
i hope they giv
sum foode to me -
i hope they shair
befor its gon -
they never do.
i dont get non.
:(
and then replies to their own comment:
my name is Cow,
and this is tru -
my caynine frend,
its up to yu.
so just be brayve
and smart insted -
and be like me.
i lik the bred.
