I'm simply a 25-year-old woman who thinks too much, overanalyzes life, and, most importantly, writes to get it all out.

18th July 2014

Quote reblogged from Neurolove.me with 5,205 notes

Pure love is a willingness to give without a thought of receiving anything in return.
— Peace Pilgrim (via kushandwizdom)

Source: thegoodvibe.co

16th July 2014

Post with 58 notes

I am a rag doll,
stitched together at the seams;
be gentle with me.

Tagged: poetrywritingspilled inkhaiku

15th July 2014

Post reblogged from In So Many Words with 39 notes

Stress.

kristaa0788:

Voices do not
ring as clear,
and flowers
do not bloom
as fair,
and words 
don’t fall 
as easily
from my 
tingling lips,
nor can my 
fingers form
one single
written line.

This stressful day
rolls on,
and I try not to fall
into the crack 
that comes between
afternoon
and evening;
my body’s
breaking down,
splitting at
its fragile seams.

Tagged: poetrywritingspilled inkstress

13th July 2014

Post with 12 notes

Here We Go Again.

I.
I’ve approached the brink,
trading places with my shadow;
I can only exist in places
where the sun can’t reach.

II.
Traced lines fall from my face,
wet spots pinprick pillowcases,
and my heart bleeds out
each toxin she’s collected.

III.
I can’t see past this wall;
all light has seemed to cease
where I live these days.
Where is it that you’ve gone?

IV.
I’m sheltering myself
with a shield to block the blow
of your arrow piercing skin,
but it’s become so worn.

V.
I’ll take my beating heart
and make sure it never whispers
its sweet secrets again;
exposure is a poison.

Tagged: poetrywritingspilled inkdepression

12th July 2014

Quote reblogged from Neurolove.me with 1,483 notes

Getting back up after being held down for so long is as vertiginous as your first fall, it is as empowering as your first broken heart. You can’t even stop to take your breath, you’re no more falling dear, you’re finally flying.
— "Conquering depression", E.P (via psych-facts)

10th July 2014

Post with 11 notes

Within the trance of morning
lies a peace I cannot replicate.

Dewdrops dance upon tall grass
to paint a masterpiece,

and birds harmonize inside
their sunrise chorus.

And I, I sit and meditate
on the words brewing inside,

picking out the ones that speak
the deepest truths about my soul.

Tagged: poetrywritingspilled inkmorningwriting about writingtruth

10th July 2014

Quote reblogged from My eye is always open with 1,183 notes

A mirror will never expose the beauty that lies inside us all.
— William Chapman (via williamchapmanwritings)

Source: williamchapmanwritings

9th July 2014

Post with 5 notes

Indeed, the end speaks loudly,
abruptly, interrupting daily thoughts
and feelings of those affected,
of those infected by the familiar emotions
that accompany abandonment.

She stirs quietly, but fiercely,
her final act of freedom;
her presence will be greatly missed,
though her absence traces anger
onto their spines in loud acrylics.

Away into the night, no longer bound
tightly by their chains, and she knows,
oh, she knows,
that she will not be the last
to walk away from prison.

Her skin is unscathed, but her mind
knows the scars of poverty,
of the efforts gone unnoticed,
of the shackles that tied her down,
so far down for far too long.

Endings do not have to be
such an abrupt occurrence,
but they will be, most of the time,
when the pressure of the ages is
finally released.

Tagged: poetrywritingspilled inkendings

9th July 2014

Post with 9 notes

Don’t delay;
the time is now
to stand up and say
you’re done.

The longer your heart
waits to speak,
the more silent she’ll
become.

One day, she’ll drown
inside the words
she wishes that
you’d said,

and then, they’ll spew
straight from your mouth
so she may breathe
again.

Tagged: poetrywritingspilled ink

9th July 2014

Post with 13 notes

Corporate America.

I.
You can only take
so much dishonesty; your
heart will surely crack.

II.
The pressure is on
when a good thing turns sour;
get out while you can.

III.
Yesterday was good,
but today, I see right through
your cracking glass door.

IV.
My shattered hopes lie
jagged at my tired feet;
let’s build something new.

Tagged: poetrywritingspilled inkhaikuhaikusout with the old and in with the newcorporate America