They are leaning out for love and they wil lean that way forever.

/Sort of active/
You can find me in Prose.
I decided to enjoy my last few months here :)
If you ever want to talk, my comments and dms are open.

Message from Writer


The one in which failure is okay.

April 17, 2021


As my time drips over my body, a new night is born. So terribly close to the past, so desperate near the future. I am not bad in these moments. I am not bad with my chest bare. I take her words, offered in self-defense. I cradle them, for she’s my mirror. Failure is okay. It sits foreign in my thoughts. She’s never seen my face, yet I feel safe in her picture. I feel safe when I can’t see myself. She’s blonde, I think. The others are maybe brunette. My literature professor is short, I think. My life won’t end inside this town. I swear.

I swear Failure is okay. She writes it three times, I understand one. I am not wrong in these pajamas, I am not ill-fitted in my name. The numbers that correspond, that represent, are not inside it. I am moment; I am not quite a person yet. But it’s a new night. So she calls me friend. She calls me Mar. One I thought I wouldn’t find again, the other I thought I’d never find. Found at Sea. Mar.

Mar, Failure is okay. You’ve known this for longer than you care to admit. You haven’t once believed it. Perhaps because it was coming from inside, because it had traces of doubt. Perhaps you needed her, maybe blonde, hurting, and kilometers away, to wish you goodnight with these words. Perhaps you needed her (mirror, stranger, friend) to place them on your hands. One pomegranate seed at a time. And you, you brought them closer. You understood their smell. Traces of bitterness, of stress. But no doubt in sight. So tonight, you swallowed the three. And you’re kilometers away from who you were minutes ago. You’re her mirror, and you offer a goodnight in return.


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  • April 17, 2021 - 1:45pm (Now Viewing)

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