"Ask things."   Links   Poetry   Prose   Quotes/Excerpts   Letters   Scripts   

"Whatever happens, it will be on me. On my heart."

Anonymous asked: This might be such a stupid question. But the poem you just posted. In all essence. What is it about? Im in love with the last three lines and am so curilis anout what exactly your thoughts were behind them


Answer:

Honestly, I don’t consider it a “poem” or a “piece” or anything of the sort. It is just a purge of my current thoughts/feelings. I have been struggling with my age and with having just finished university and not being able to write at the moment and what it all means and that ‘list’ is what came out of it. I am changing. I am so much more peaceful at my center than I used to be and yet there is still the same neediness, the same desire to flee, the same thousand and one conflicting emotions. I am just more adept at respecting them, respecting myself. Thank you very much for liking something that was honestly just an out-pouring. <3

— 1 day ago with 6 notes

We get old like this:

we look forward to winter, to staying indoors and being merciful with ourselves
we kiss with less urgency and more delicacy
we close the blinds more
we keep stamps in our purses
we look down the length of our bodies in the bathtub and there is no judgment, just a quiet acceptance
we forget birthdays, including our own
we wake up to pee in the middle of the night
we visit the doctor either much more out of worry or much less out of indifference
we forget about the people that made fun of us in school
we stop rejecting seconds at dinner
we drink wine just to get to sleep
we leave lights on
we do not smile when men tell us to
we take our coffee with milk, but no sugar
we gain weight and do little about it
we read more
we go out less
we forget a vital ingredient every time we attempt to bake something
we let the lovers go when they want to
we don’t take them back
we have more lotions, but less perfumes
we miss our parents
we ignore telephone calls
we decline social invitations
we let the animals sleep in bed with us
we are less jealous
less guilty of shifting blame
less angry about our childhoods
less afraid of embarrassment
less consumed with loneliness
less concerned by others’ preconceptions of us
less arrogant
less likely to stay quiet in the face of ignorance
less fearful
less self-pitying
less quick-to-fall-in-love
no less wild
no less needy
no less human

— 1 day ago with 104 notes
#personal  #will probably delete 
Anonymous asked: Please post more. Please. I miss you.


Answer:

I wish I was writing, but sometimes it goes away for a while. Trust me, I miss it as much, if not more, than you do.

— 6 days ago with 8 notes
"You are a wonder. Think flowers, think the rainstorm that destroys them. You are a balance of soft and terrifying and the best part is - you know it."

A small note enclosed in a book given to me from Lenny (via 5000letters)

sometimes we’re nice to each other.

— 1 week ago with 1355 notes
#rarely though  #;) 
"It’s a brave thing being loved by me, but then it’s a brave thing being loved at all. Where do we find the nerve? We say ‘all right, I like you, so I put my happiness in your hands.’ We say ‘your smile tickles me so let’s spend forever going to bed mad at one another.’"
Donna-Marie Riley, Brave Thing
— 4 weeks ago with 3599 notes
#quotes  #excerpts  #donna-marie riley 
whatislisa:

"She is made of cinnamon. Candied apple &amp; sweet tooth…”

Just came across this spectacular sketch captioned with one of my quotes. Honoured by its beauty. &lt;3

whatislisa:

"She is made of cinnamon. Candied apple & sweet tooth…”

Just came across this spectacular sketch captioned with one of my quotes. Honoured by its beauty. <3

— 1 month ago with 203 notes
#poetry  #donna-marie riley  #love and other small wars 
Brave Thing

She says it’s a brave thing, being loved by you. I don’t ask why. I kiss her on her head for her courage. I gold-star her abdomen with my mouth. I leave one hand inside her. Some days, she gets solemn. Some days, she turns the radio off in the kitchen just as I’m getting into a rhythm making omelettes. Some days, she opens and closes the fridge in an attempt to discover where the light goes. She’s right. It’s a brave thing being loved by me, but then it’s a brave thing being loved at all. Where do we find the nerve? We say all right, I like you, so I put my happiness in your hands. We say your smile tickles me so let’s spend forever going to bed mad at one another. Okay, so it isn’t always like that. Some people know better. Some people. But not you and I. You and I both keep drunk-driving into new relationships. Keep licking the envelope of someone’s mouth. Keep filling the void in our ribcage with whatever we can find. You and I weren’t born smart. We were born screaming. I know, I know – aren’t we all? Well, sure, but for most of us, it’s audible. Anyway, back to what’s important:

Sorry, I lost my train of thought. I plumed the depths and came up with nothing. Maybe your thighs. Maybe I want to get lost between them. But it isn’t all sexual, I promise. Some of it is, but most of it is just – I want to be close to you. Forget waking up next to you. I want to wake up inside you. I’ll kiss you morning breath and all. I’ll start every day ironing the tension out of your body. Doesn’t that sound nice? How domestic. And I’ve never been that kind of woman. Man. I don’t know really. I’ve never been that person, wanting only to serve another, but god, I want to bring you breakfast in bed. God, I want to bring you to orgasm. It’s all the same to me.

Yes, there are times I’m going to hurt you with silence. Yes, there are times I’m going to hurt you with words. I know what you mean. It’s a brave thing, being loved by me.

But it’s an honour, that you think I’m worth the risk.

— 1 month ago with 173 notes
#prose  #poetry  #spilled ink