It’s a melancholic diary.
I am the vine of the vineyard, withered, and without fruit. Though thou shouldst pour water upon me, it shall not profit me;
By Nicole Moore3 days ago in Poets
Life’s embrace did not reject you, yet the melody of soil called you home. The butterflies of freedom no longer beat within you—
By Nicole Moore17 days ago in Poets
I stand within an iron fortress with neither way back nor way forward. I cannot remain, and I cannot flee. Beyond the fortress, the sun stretches out a hand to me,
By Nicole Moore19 days ago in Poets
We were red fish rotting inside an iron bowl. Quiet. Watched. Obsessed with a freedom we were never meant to touch.
By Nicole Moore22 days ago in Poets
You do not know why you thirst at the spring of life yet are sated at the spring of death. You learned all that you were meant to know,
By Nicole Moore24 days ago in Poets
Today, I long for what I lost yesterday. Yesterday, I was longing for today. And today, I miss yesterday. The threads of my future are tangled.
By Nicole Moore25 days ago in Poets
And I said: this is the end. Pieces of me have been undone, shard by shard. Pain has nested itself in every cell of my body.
By Nicole Mooreabout a month ago in Poets
Their roads diverged. One died; the other carried on— one kept living with a dead girl lodged in her ribs, and the other, in dying, continued to live.
I walk the paths, They stretch farther and farther, I walk and I follow, There is no end. I walk on foot, I walk barefoot,
You flinch from wakefulness, and you ache for sleep. You slip from the arms of the waking world into sleep as if into sanctuary—
I am the dandelion of the plain. Whether the wind blows or not, I am destined to fall apart. I scatter— and every fragment of me
By Nicole Moore2 months ago in Poets
That summer night, I was no longer shy. I no longer wished to hide—from your gaze, from the eyes of the world. Drop by drop, the courage that had been dripping for years
