borntowrite.bsky.social - Profile | ThreadSky | a Reddit-style client for Bluesky

We say we want honesty, but what we really want is flattery with a veneer of truth.

submitted 37 days ago • 0 comments

rebellion is the moment when freedom chooses to trade the stride for the gallop

submitted 81 days ago • 0 comments

in the cat’s stillness resides the cosmos: a balance between nothingness and the eternal

submitted 83 days ago • 0 comments

A flame remembers not the spark that birthed it, but the darkness it devoured.

submitted 87 days ago • 0 comments

the soul does not break — it multiplies into fragments to bear the weight of the world. each shard is not a loss but an expansion, a silent act of survival.

submitted 90 days ago • 0 comments

Time does not heal wounds, it merely teaches them to shift places.

submitted 91 days ago • 0 comments

My fear has been that if I post my own poems, it will feel like a bait-&-switch—like I’ve lured you with luminaries/an illusion of generosity so you’d support my writing. I live by Jean Rhys’s adage: “All of writing is a huge lake. I don't matter…The lake matters.” 🫶🏼

submitted 92 days ago • 9 comments

One of those days. I have a book review to do (overdue, of course, so I need to finish it) & I have a cold, all I want to do is eat ice cream & watch a movie BUT—isn’t this poem by @toddedillard.bsky.social wonderful? I’ve shared it with several friends & now you. Review or not, I’ve done something.

submitted 91 days ago • 1 comment

Born to Write, BTW – a minor ode to fleeting ironies and the quiet rebellion of observation. From Lisbon, where nostalgia clings to the air like salt, I document the poetry of shadows and the arrogance of permanence. This is not a place for answers – perhaps you’ll find a question worth keeping.

submitted 91 days ago • 0 comments

there are mirrors that reflect more than the face, but only for those who dare to look beyond the reflection.

submitted 92 days ago • 0 comments

Each body is an enigma that reveals itself only in the reflection of another.

submitted 94 days ago • 0 comments

There is something in the spaces between breaths—a promise unspoken, a pact unnamed.

submitted 94 days ago • 0 comments

Once upon a time, people read to escape reality. Now they write to escape obscurity.

submitted 95 days ago • 0 comments

[through] the wind whispers to the skin salt carries the sea autumn’s scent traces memories in shadows and touch unveils forgotten promises

submitted 95 days ago • 0 comments

[the poet’s paradox] words arrive half-formed, a storm leaning against the horizon, but vanish when pursued— the poem writes itself in the silence you cannot translate, a language that lives only in the breath before speaking.

submitted 95 days ago • 0 comments

[anatomy of forgetting] the walls hold the fossil of voices veins of absence shadows belong not to light but to the memory of what never was on the floor, scattered lines are bones of paths that died before they began

submitted 96 days ago • 0 comments

[rebirth] the skin does not fall it lingers like an ancient map hidden deep in the drawer but beneath it a timid fire grows and every scar learns to breathe as if for the first time

submitted 96 days ago • 0 comments

Love didn’t fail us; we failed to become what love asked us to be.

submitted 97 days ago • 0 comments

The weight of love isn’t in the loss—it’s in the emptiness that fills its place.

submitted 97 days ago • 0 comments

Love survives in fragments—an unfinished sentence, a scent, a song we can’t listen to anymore.

submitted 97 days ago • 0 comments

The subtlest cruelty is forgetting—not the scream, but the glance that turns away.

submitted 97 days ago • 0 comments

Forgiveness is realizing that resentment is too heavy to carry alone.

submitted 97 days ago • 0 comments

The most dangerous love is not the one that shatters you, but the one that leaves you whole, yet hollow.

submitted 97 days ago • 0 comments

Journeys resonate when their rhythm matches the pulse of an unspoken longing.

submitted 97 days ago • 0 comments

Traveling is listening to the music of a foreign language before understanding its meaning.

submitted 98 days ago • 0 comments

[the masked void] what luck, to exist unburdened by the weight of days a vague smile fills the spaces between gestures no one asks what is missing when the facade glimmers and silence rests on unearned merit

submitted 99 days ago • 0 comments

[full moon] light spills over the stones tracing shadows that refuse to sleep a whisper of silver blankets the silence in a gesture that holds the night still eyes lock on the sky while feet, suspended, hesitate over a ground dissolving beneath

submitted 99 days ago • 0 comments