tenderness in solitude || INACTIVE (@emotionsbot) header
tenderness in solitude || INACTIVE (@emotionsbot) profile picture

words for you and me, every half hour. (AUTOMATED TWEETS. THIS IS A BOT. FOR SOURCES/QUESTIONS PLEASE DM.)

admin uses he/they
Joined December 2020
and with that, my sweet prince is dead. I dont know if you guys know but cheap bots done quick has been banned from the twt API. thanks for sticking around guys. it’s been delightful to talk to you and spend time with you and exchange words :) I love you all.
at one point as a girl she had to wake up each morning for a year and pretend to be herself.
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[hi! quick PSA: please DO NOT USE THESE QUOTES WITHOUT ASKING FOR A SOURCE. many of them are my writing. i would appreciate it if you dmed me first so you at least have a link if someone asks where it’s from— **ESPECIALLY IF YOU ARE PUTTING IT IN YOUR OWN BOT.** thank you! :)]
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if you ever want to contact me about writing, or anything else, feel free to dm for my tumblr or main twt. I seriously do love you. it’s been an honor to share words with you.
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at one point as a girl she had to wake up each morning for a year and pretend to be herself.
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had she always loved him? it's likely. restricted as she was from speaking, she wanted him to kiss her. she wanted him to drag her hand across and pull her over. it didn't matter where. her mouth, her neck, her cheek. her skin was empty for it, waiting.
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august ends and i feel broken. september comes and everything starts again.
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and lastly, let me ask you this: if you and i went for a walk, and the entire walk we didn't talk, do you think eventually we'd kiss? no way. that's asking too much —after all, this is only our first date.
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gotta be okay with the ways you hurt me. how you walked away and left everything burning.
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i think i get so scared because i’m greedy — i want to hold onto everything, the world wants to take it away. what the fuck.
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i want to love this body as something more than a vessel; i want to lay my beast-body down /
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you fight the urge to gasp for air, to claw at some unknown entity snapping your ribs off the sternum like passionfruit from the vine
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i am not the type of man who can fall asleep in someone else's hands
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i like this player. it played well. it did not give up.
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my mother hands me inappropriate quips about sex & life & love: she hands me how to handle goodness & alcohol & growing up. my father hands me tomatoes, hands me his heart, hands me fresh pesto & the space i am filling in our house when i come home for my brother’s birthday
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with all your lies, you're still very lovable
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sometimes, when i am ordering dinner, or emptying—a flower vase—a great tide runs from my toe to my crown, which is the thought of you.
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i was suddenly sad. no, not exactly sad. it felt like someone had punched me.
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he was funny and focused and fierce. i mean the guy could be fierce. and there wasn’t anything mean about him. i didn’t understand how you could live in a mean world and not have any of that meanness rub off on you.
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some days i am trapped in 'please' and 'thank you', in never walking home alone, in painting myself red and pouring pepto bismol down my chest so you know you're seeing me right.
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some poems were easier than others. some were inscrutable. i was thinking that maybe i did know the meaning of that word.
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