Just another girl who has an affinity for good poetry, beautiful places & honest art.

Music from this blog can be found here.

Pardon my sentimentality. It's an INFP thing.
Friday August 1st //
They burned the bridge, then ask why I don’t visit.
— Ugo Eze  (via thatkindofwoman)

(Source: ayougo, via johngradycole)

Friday August 1st //
Friday August 1st // Filed under: yeah dead folk,

There’s this guy I literally just went out with once, and he’s like so cute in an Andrew Garfield way, but he doesn’t seem to like me back. He takes 30 hours to reply on Facebook, and I don’t believe in love anymore. 

Friday August 1st //
Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I’m telling lies.
I say,
It’s in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I’m a woman
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.
— Maya Angelou (via purplebuddhaproject)
Thursday July 31st //
Purity or impurity depends on oneself,
No one can purify another.
— Gautama Buddha (via purplebuddhaproject)

(via purplebuddhaproject)

Thursday July 31st //
You cannot use someone else’s fire; you can only use your own. And in order to do that, you must first be willing to believe you have it.
— Audre Lorde (via purplebuddhaproject)

(via purplebuddhaproject)

Thursday July 31st //


Triptych for Topological Heart
by Alice Fulton

it befalls us. an exchanged glance, reflective spasm.

Is it a fantastically unlaminated question set in flesh
or valentine that wears the air as its apparel?
If you cut a heart from parchment, is it still
a heart? A nontrivial knot, where turns of every gradient
may kiss and tell. Does the vessel have edges?
Or is it all connectedness, an embedding to be stretched
or bent. Imagine being simultaneously alive,
bound in both directions with a bow! Is it diachronic,
a phenomenon that changes over time? Without ardor
theory suffers. That’s why I’m stuck on you with wanton glue, per-
severing, styling something blobbish and macabre
into something pointed, neat. Love is a gift
that springs from an unlit spot. Resin and rue.
Even when I’m in the dark I’m in the dark with you.

Wednesday July 30th // Filed under: alice fulton,
You only are free when you realize you belong no place — you belong every place — no place at all.
— Maya Angelou (via peelsofpoetry)
Wednesday July 30th //


The Type
by Sarah Kay

If you grow up the type of woman men want to look at,
You can let them look at you.
But do not mistake eyes for hands,
Or windows for mirrors.
Let them see what a woman looks like.
They may not have ever seen one before.

If you grow up the type of woman men want to touch,
You can let them touch you.
Sometimes it is not you they are reaching for.
Sometimes it is a bottle, a door, a sandwich, a Pulitzer, another woman -
But their hands found you first.
Do not mistake yourself for a guardian, or a muse, or a promise, or a victim or a snack.
You are a woman -
Skin and bones, veins and nerves, hair and sweat
You are not made of metaphors,
Not apologies, not excuses.

If you grow up the type of woman men want to hold,
You can let them hold you.
All day they practice keeping their bodies upright.
Even after all this evolving it still feels unnatural,
Still strains the muscles, holds firm the arms and spine.
Only some men will want to learn what it feels like to curl themselves into a question mark around you,
Admit they don’t have the answers they thought they would by now.
Some men will want to hold you like the answer.
You are not the answer.
You are not the problem.
You are not the poem, or the punchline, or the riddle, or the joke.

Woman, if you grow up the type of woman men want to love,
You can let them love you.
Being loved is not the same thing as loving.
When you fall in love,
It is discovering the ocean after years of puddle jumping.
It is realising you have hands.
It is reaching for the tightrope after the crowds have all gone home.
Do not spend time wondering if you are the type of woman men will hurt.
If he leaves you with a car alarm heart.
You learn to sing along.
It is hard to stop loving the ocean,
Even after it’s left you gasping, salty.
So forgive yourself for the decisions you’ve made,
The ones you still call mistakes when you tuck them in at night,
And know this.
Know you are the type of woman who is searching for a place to call yours.
Let the statues crumble.
You have always been the place.
You are a woman who can build it yourself.
You are born to build.

Wednesday July 30th // Filed under: the type, sarah kay, i read this poem all the time to remind myself i am okay,

Slut-shamers are the worst. 

Wednesday July 30th //

"virginity is the best gift you can give to your husband"

yeah right. I can’t with these people. I’m a fabulous woman no matter what! Speaking as a Filipino, I can’t with my culture’s values srsly…… I have my brains, my personality and my values. 

Wednesday July 30th // Filed under: i can't with these ppl,
Wednesday July 30th //
Wednesday July 30th //
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