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image by M. Z. (@life_is_rhyme) with caption : "Now open it ❤ @life_is_rhyme 
#blackheart" - 1717251028486552006
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Now open it ❤ @life_is_rhyme

image by M.k (@mystic_epitome) with caption : "Too bad!
 the camera 
didn’t capture
her beautiful soul,
her fervid desire,
butterflies in her heart 
and true reason 
o" - 1717251519077436125
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Too bad! the camera didn’t capture her beautiful soul, her fervid desire, butterflies in her heart and true reason of her smile......😊😊😊❤️❤️ Tagged by very brilliant and beautiful @poetry_by_el for Tagging few but open to all 😘😘😘 #spilledinkpoetry Photography @sarikagangwal 😍😘

image by haley (@totempoles) with caption : "“
One.
You see her for the first time and she’ll walk right past you like you are a crack in the wall and she is a skysc" - 1717249919268326085
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“ One.
You see her for the first time and she’ll walk right past you like you are a crack in the wall and she is a skyscraper with her head so high in the air and when you can’t sleep you’ll think about the way her eyes strayed into yours for a moment too long before breaking away and disappearing into the crowd of people. Two.
She’ll look both ways before telling you she loves you under her breath and when she hugs you her eyes scan the empty room as if the walls had eyes and ears and mouths that could give you away. Three.
When she’s curled up on your lap shaking with mismatched breaths you’ll wonder how someone who looked like she carried mountains on her shoulders could crumble so easily in your arms like the tornado in her mind finally hit her and knocked her off her feet. Four.
In half-light she’ll run her fingers over your arms like she is reading words carved into your skin, binding them together into the perfect metaphor and you’ll hear it playback in your head at 4am when your head runs wild with thoughts of her. Five.
You’ll find a safe haven on rooftops and abandoned rooms where she’ll set fire to your insides with hushed breaths between kisses planted perfectly on your lips and make you wonder how dangerous it is to play with wild flames while your body is made of paper. Six. 
You’ll stare God right in the eye and tell him that if loving her was a sin then you want no place in heaven with him because the way her lips fit perfectly on your neck is a type of paradise you’ll never forget. ” -RB . . . poetry

image by Kathy Parker (@kathyparkerwriter) with caption : "I have found that truth lies in the spaces between the words: the cracks in the pavements we tiptoe over, as if we are a" - 1717231314711542183
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I have found that truth lies in the spaces between the words: the cracks in the pavements we tiptoe over, as if we are afraid of seven years bad luck, afraid to break our mother’s back, afraid of what honesty will do, or undo, in the lives we have so carefully swathed with our own language so fluent in things of the weather. Unspoken words get caught in our throat; we choke on their sharp edges and spit them back onto our plates and instead satiate our fear of the silence with words soaked in honey that are swallowed with ease; malnourishing ourselves with empty calories and all the while wondering why we never feel complete. I wonder if this is why some of us like to chew on metaphors; here we can taste truth without saying truth, here we can walk on the cracks without falling through and I think that’s the only way some of us will ever feel safe. Maybe that’s all our lives really are anyway; a metaphor, an analogy, a parable. Maybe none of this is real, maybe we are all just the same stories spoken to new generations. Maybe we are nothing more than a social experiment, Big Brother, watched and scored and already lost to government control and maybe freedom is nothing more than illusion and the last person standing, wins. Maybe you no longer love me. Maybe we have come too unstuck to hold together anymore. I look at you and want to speak these things out loud, I want to tell you how I think I’m sinking into the deepest part of myself and can’t find the way out. But your eyes are fixed on the afternoon sun as it comes through the window that faces west towards the ocean so I watch fallen leaves scatter at the kiss of the wind and hear the sound of the currawong calling in the distance. You note the shifting light; perhaps the change of season is close, you wonder, and I reply, perhaps it is. Day Seventeen : Weather + Day Eighteen : Unspoken poetry

image by M. Z. (@life_is_rhyme) with caption : "Oh Lord ❤❤ @life_is_rhyme 
#myblackheart" - 1717229497966561510
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Oh Lord ❤❤ @life_is_rhyme