Rec | THIS EPITAPH

🥀

On the grave of a 27 year old woman. It beautifully conveys the bitterness, resentment, and reluctant acceptance of the loved ones left behind when a life is taken too young.

@worldonfire

May 18, 2025

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gutted - basically quotes

“Now I have to remember you for longer than I knew you” “how do you process grief?” “by running from it until it finds me in the middle of a sunny street on a beautiful day.” two headed calf poem “i was a child my spine wasn’t developed enough to be your pillar” “As a woman I have so much empathy for my mother, but as a daughter, I have so much anger..”

@navyblues

May 14, 2024

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prose written for ago

An old man comes into my line , hunched over and dragging his feet, As he puts items on the conveyor belt i see his knuckles white, and taunt with letters spelling “R-I-T-A” RITA reveals his youth to me, she paints à vision of the couple behind him I can see him standing with à woman, who’s young with à soft voice that creeps under the music my job is playing. She buys à single bag of candy smiling as her child pulls on her arm. Her partner, doesn’t seem to match the town we’re in and when he puts cash on the counter his knuckles read “R-I-C-O” instead, RICO’s face mixes into someone from home and I wonder if he’ll live the same life as the man in front of him or meet the same fate as the latter. Will he be able to retire in à sleepy town like Rita’s lover? Or will he die young, far away from the smiling girl trying to prove himself? His mother would wake up in à cold sweat to 30 missed calls. She’ll think of him at 6, nervous for his first day of school and collapse on the floor at his funeral. His childhood friends would rush over even though they haven’t seen him outside of Facebook in 16 years But they’ll remember the important things, like him learning to ride his bike and getting à tattoo to match his dad for his approval even though it didn’t work. His dad would look at the casket and shed his first tears in à decade realizing that perhaps he was too hard like his father before him After the quiet of the funeral, his friend would go back home to his empty apartment and have à longing for home and feel the need to visit home to see his mother to reminisce. She would be the woman coming into my line now. Smile lines reveal to me the years of joy he’s brought her and in her bag, 6 oranges symbolizing good luck. She tells me the good news of her son visiting and tells me while talking that hes far older than me I smile and ask her to guess my age “17” she says proudly. I feel disappointed that she didnt guess correctly. Everyone says that I’ll miss these years of mistaken Identity. But in my youth I wish to skip it. At age 20 , I wish I had à life of tattoos and lines that express à life full of laughs I’m aware that with this change that no one will see me as the girl that I am anymore but this refined thing. No one would see me as carefree and fun loving as à mother but irresponsible and immature. At the young age of 40 no one will see me as curious but nosy and stupid By then I won't be insecure but desperate, by then I should be wise. I wonder if the woman in front of me remembers her first boyfriend vividly or her mother cutting her deeply for the first time or does she just feel the grooves that have been carried in her At 60 will she remember being at the edge of the windowsill at 14 and view it as an error of her youth? And when she saw the same signs of decline in her own daughter will she ignore it like her mother had done her and instead clasp her daughters hands in prayer and force her to her knees. Or would she view her daughter pulling away as necessary instead of à sign of abandonment and remember that in her youth she was her daughter and vice versa

@iheartcakez

Feb 13, 2025

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QUEER GRAVEYARDS

as i come closer and closer to accepting my identity and taking steps to actually transition i mourn the people i grew up with who i called by different names than they go by now, who grew out their natural hair color or chose one socially acceptable, who used different pronouns and dreamt of life as a boy- who now can’t wait to be a wife… im the only one left it feels. something must have shifted between 2017 to now, and the losses i can count on my fingers. they’re all buried and i don’t think any of them are coming back. do you remember middle school- where it was harder to find someone who Wasn’t queer and it seemed like everyone was more themselves? i cant bury this and i wont, but it makes me sad to think about the ones who are still sleeping.