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And then I'm crying,
One stoic tear
at a time.

I sit there
until the tears stop,
And the light begins to change, and fade,
And the soft pink
Glow of dusk
fills the room.

If only I'd known.
If only I'd been enough.//
©️@brown_girls_diary .
Gorgeous Art by @tano.motisi .
#creativewriting #writer #writerscommunity #poetryinmotion #poetry #poetrycommunity #enough #writersofinstagram #sadquote #tears


It’s all about hope
the willingness to
wait and make it
work, because it’s
worth the hurt.
We’ll be what we
are meant to be
one soul, one body
and together make
our space glow.
Beautiful artwork by @lamiaa.ameen
#parthwrites #poetry #poetrycommunity #spilledink #poetsofinstagram #poet #poetrylovers #poetryofinstagram #poetsofig #igpoets #qotd #poemsofinstagram #poems #poemsporn #creativewriting #love #bymepoetry #writersofinstagram #writers #writerscommunity #writersofig #writingcommunity #writer #wordporn #passion #writers #heartbreakquotes #wordart #wordplay


// sometimes we’re just messing with ya hahaha - don’t be so serious #crazypoets #haiku
I thought it was funny
but you appear to have lost
your sense of humour
©️ poetrybyyaya
#spilledink #poetrycommunity #instapoet #writers #love #poem #poemoftheday #haiku #herheartpoetry #poetsofig #writingcommunity #poetrysociety #poetryporn #womenwhowrite #creativewriting #poem #writersofinstagram #creativelife #shortstory #avoicefromfaraway #igwriters #igpoetry #poemoftheday #mindgames #poetrytribe #bymepoetry #artlixirpoetry
Image licensed from Adobe Stock


It was very much unexpected, just as everything started getting better... this happened.
She turned to us with a face that could only scream frustration. She slammed her fist down on her hand with determination, “alright guys I’ve got a plan!”
Everyone shot eyes around the group with confusion. “We obviously didn’t expect this! So I have an unplanned plan that may or may not work but it’s worth a try!”
I took her hand and stared deep into her eyes and started smiling. “An unexpected unplanned plan! Just what we needed!” I exclaimed, stupidly because everyone just stared at me with a face that only mea-
”why are you like this” she said as she pulled her hands away from mine. I laughed and moved back to where I was before my spout.
-story and improv by me
I like writing but this was just something stupid I thought of when I was high. Rofl 🤣
#art #wroting #creativewriting #photography #flowers #transgender #femaletomale #ftm #trans #lgbtq #yyc #stoner


Thank you to @theangelinthedarkness Amy Turberville for donating a copy of her printed book The Angel In The Darkness ... If you'd like to donate an ebook you can email it directly to Cciqpress@gmail.com or DM me if you want to donate a printed book. Link in bio #poetry #poem #poet #poetsofinstagram #writing #poetsofig #poetrycommunity #poems #words #spilledink #instapoet #typewriter #prose #poets #creativewriting #instapoem #writers #write #writerscommunity #instapoetry #writingcommunity #writersofinstagram #writer #romantic #wordporn #writersofig #lovepoem #lovepoems #lovers #poetryisnotdead



Three pages front and back of a fiverr commission. It goes under first revision tonight where I'll add some more atmosphere and adjust some dialogue. It feels good to be writing again. ** I graduated HS with honours in English. I was recognized for my dedication and work in creative writing as well as research regarding essays, articles, and letters. I was constantly told to go into journalism or another by my English teacher. He took ALL of my projects, asking of course, to use as future examples, but also paraded them to my other teachers. It felt good. I enjoyed the praise, the recommendations, even some in writing, I received, but I still have yet to see a full future in a career of writing.

#fiverr #creativewriting #expression #writing #freedom #commission


Thank you to @claudinenashpoetry Claudine Nash for donating a printed copy of her chap book The Problem With Loving Ghosts to the Poetry Olympics. If you would like to donate an ebook kindly email it to Cciqpress@gmail.com or DM me if you would like to donate a printed book. Link in my bio... #poetry #poem #poet #poetsofinstagram #writing #poetsofig #poetrycommunity #poems #words #spilledink #instapoet #typewriter #prose #poets #creativewriting #instapoem #writers #write #writerscommunity #instapoetry #writingcommunity #writersofinstagram #writer #romantic #wordporn #writersofig #lovepoem #lovepoems #lovers #poetryisnotdead


A castle of trust
Strong and stable 
Sheltering relations 
Build one brick at a time 
And yet one large blow 
Can break it all.
And the bigger it is 
More of ruins left 
Pricking it's residents
For a lifetime 
Fearful now,
of taking shelters.

#Mydiary #tanya_scribbles #poetry #poet #poetrycommunity #poems #instaquotesdaily #quotes #quotesoftheday #instaquotesinspire #instaquotes #instaquote #writersofinstagram #writerscommunity #writes #quotesdaily #quotesaboutlife#quotestoliveby #creativewriting #creative #poetsofinstagram #quotestagram #quoteoftheday#wordporn #castle #trust #blow #heartbreak


Against the insipid, grey
Suburban background,
Your rusted copper hair
Set the street aflame,
Like a burn mark on
A black and white photo.
But that is inconsequential
As anything else,
Because oh my fucking god,
Your eyes seized my rib cage
And shook it as if they were
Waking up something within me.
I know not your name, or who you are,
But I swear I've not gazed into eyes
Which can decipher me so easily;
Eyes so warm, that strip off every
Piece of this unneeded cloth
On my body, and I still wouldn't shiver
On the coldest of the winter nights
If I have them to look into.
I was passing you, as fate
Wanted me to do so today,
But I looked at you and mouthed
The words, "oh fuck", quite shamelessly;
What I really wanted to say was
I would barter my soul if I could
Stare into the eyes of the man
Who gets to stare into yours.
I couldn't say this, I just couldn't,
But God bless the way you looked away
And smiled as if you already knew.

Photo by Luca Laconelli


I hesitate to say "enemies to lovers" because I think it is a dangerous romantic ideal for the real world (Darcy! Ehem) Although a benefit is comedic opportunities. But misunderstanding is the big heart-wrencher (Romeo, Tristian!)...especially when one thinks denying their love is better for the other 😭 💔 ps. This movie is "forbidden paradise" #romancewritersjuly #romeoandjuliet #tristanandisolde #darcy #meetcute #enemiestolovers #crosspurpose #rodlarocque #polanegri #forbiddenparadise #trope #bookish #bookstagrammer #instabooks #book #books #bookworm #amwriting #creativewriting #instawriter


🤕#banksimpanannasional #bsnmalaysia #kolejmatrikulasibanting#negativetopositive#creativewriting but not fiction

For Bank Simpanan Nasional, after the 3rd trip to Banting this month. 🏦 I am an ATM 🏦
In solitary I stand, waiting for BSN
My guardian, my keeper, supposedly my fixer.
For, like me, there is no other
On this Kolej Matrikulasi Banting campus...
No Maybank, no CIMB, no... just none...
Only me, an ATM owned by BSN - just one.

In solitary I stand, waiting for BSN
Questioning my purpose, doubting my functionality
Am I not supposed to serve a 2000 plus student community?
Their teachers,  associated family and neighbours possibly?
Why then do I break down so regularly?

This July, 2018, on this day, the 18th
For the 3rd time, in solitary I stand, waiting for BSN
Resigned to my fate
For I have to face the people I'm supposed to serve
The hopeful look on their faces, the cheerful banter
Then the disappointment, the fear and the anger.

I have to listen to their worry
How will they pay for books, lab coats and food for their tummy?
They have money - from their parents, their allowance from the ministry 
But what they need, they cannot withdraw from me
You see the sign on my forehead?
"Duit habis" - ran out of money

So as I stand in solitary, waiting for BSN to feed me the money
Prepared to wait for days, like history has taught me
I wonder about procedures, I wonder about SOPs
I wonder... if they can't take care of me
How long more will I stand in solitary

Or perhaps not
Because the students will haunt me
We will develop group anxiety
And demand that BSN pays for therapy.

Come on BSN! You can do better. I can do that 1 - 1.5 hour drive to Banting. What do you expect parents from the far north, east and south do? Or should the students keep all their money in their wallet?


************************************************************Do you go to the bath for the cleansing or the solitude?
For the noise to drown out your cries
like that of a soldier with war cuts
these reminders crawling through your skin
even when the hurt has been mummified
tightly to its origin
Hot bodies
Cold hearts
Like a moth to a flame
You’ll find that,
whatever poison you ingest
is but a feather to a rock
Some pains
Some wounds
take a lot out of a fledgling
Or they simply rob us of everything
A few return to the world
with healed parts
While the rest wander around
in pieces unrestored
The catacombs of the living,
that’s where they go
buried under a nameless headstone
For some of us,
who may not yet be dead
but might as well be...
Elle Bor


Even when you left
and promised to never return,
I felt no sense of finality
Like when the clouds
and the sun
war for their rightful place in the sky,
I still wasn’t sure
if it was going to rain or shine
Elle Bor


I want you to devour me but not as a piece of raw meat. Feed on the depths of my mind, as if your soul has been starving for all eternity...


******************************************* Their stories were immortalized
along the crisp pages
of a best selling novel
Wide open for discovery
Beautiful and free
And ours?
A love in albino skin
terrified of daylight
Cradled by the blank words
In chapters people skip
A cautionary tale
by the fingerprints of tears
For endings we still wish
belonged to us

We are consigned to the in-betweens
enfolded within a starry universe
in the middle
of space and time
you and I
This unwritten fable of nomads
that have feared asylum
Voices gunned down
by weapons with silencer
Mouths gagged from telling
It was always brief
seas only reaching
knee deep
Our feet were rushed
Never enough time
to trudge away from the storm
and find safety
We feared the depths
like bags over our heads
As if we didn’t know
that the shallows can drown us
the same way too.. Elle Bor


************************************************************ One foot on the gas pedal
Tank near empty
This is a ghost town
rock bottom from a fresh high
of fireworks on the 4th of July
Meaningless bottles laying on the street
the caps still on
missing the mouths
that have kissed them until dawn

I’ve always been blind in this darkness
the sunlight cannot touch
Burdened from weightlessness
no wind could understand
Famished from a hunger
that I robbed from a newborn child
And all the while,
we don’t have memories here
I’m drifting
within the viscera of space
and time
There is something amiss
in the wholeness of this world
a hollow
a throbbing vacancy
Do you feel the same way
when you’re missing me?
Elle Bor


Far too often, we believe the newspaper headlines around migrant ‘crises’. Looking at migrants, refugees and asylum seekers as the problem, establishes a problem. They are calling on us for help. Turning to huge westernised mothering economies for shelter, stability and understanding. And far too often, we turn our backs. We lack compassion and sympathy. Politicians, presidents and the media, convince us that their cohabitation in our society, is detrimental. That their existence is damaging. No one should have to justify their right to existence. No human life is illegal. Warsan Shire wrote an extremely touching poem, entitled ‘Home’. I want to single out and reiterate a few crucial lines (note: Shite doesn’t use any capitalisation throughout the poem - her words are quite literally stripped back to their minimal state):
‘no one leaves home unless home is the mouth of a shark’
‘you have to understand, that no one puts their children in a boat unless the and water is safer than the land’
Nobody chooses to seek asylum or to be a refugee and so, we need to stop acting as those these titles are choices, occupations and ways of life. When your country is crumbling around you, then asylum is likely to be your only option. Each and every person is entitled to this option and we shouldn’t shun people because of circumstances (purely by luck) are better than theirs. We should allow them to contribute to society, allow them to integrate and allow them the right to live. Link in bio. (wow - 3rd time uploading, hopefully no more mistakes, soz guys xo)


I’m drowning in all the empty promises you placed inside my heart...


For every single boy who stayed for a while and saw something to love out of these ruins...
************************************************************ For all the men who dared to love me,
Thank you

What utter madness,
to vacate from your inhibitions
and seize this wildfire within your grasp
I, who lathers tenderness across my skin
but wears the armor of a full-fledged mobster
comes daytime
I lust for romance, as a decade old famine
intending to throw it in the compost
by the evening
My dreams sodomize reality,
Shrouding things I was meant to see
The way marriage was a permanent exile
only ever knowing
how to stay for a while

Our nights were always punctuated
by rhymes and riddles
until you find yourself
alone in your own bed
soiled in ashes and ripples
I am a slave to company
but always a prisoner to the solitary
I haven’t yet learned how
to let a boy blow on my wound
and call it a vow

But you lingered
for the same reasons
I wanted you to
For finding the answers
like where my heart has been
There, within the questions
thatched along the keloids
on my skin
I am the whole of a broken mirror
glued loosely
by the tip of my night terrors
And even when there’s ridges on your reflection
you were always whole
each time you looked at me
You have seen beauty
in a garden full of weeds
And tasted wine
when you kissed away my tears
I am strength
in my weakling fibers
shivering scared
within the bowels of darkness
And you always knew when
to trap me in your shield
and when to stay back
so my own battles
can allow me to bleed.

For all the men who dared to love me
I’m sorry
My chaos was never meant
to be silenced
by the lure of pure innocence
It was wrong of me
To ask you for the calmness
only I can give to myself...
Elle Bor


I’m a slave to company yet always a prisoner to the solitary


Always the sunset, never the boy...


When you wake up to a stranger’s bed and you no longer need shelter from the storm...


Tell me, do you ever get so fatigued from being thought of so much?


Just trust me on this one
You’ll be okay
But Whatever you do
don’t fall for the seduction
of peeling your scab
to see how close you are to mending
Remember that patience
is also an element to healing
Elle Bor


Celebrities are people. Fully fleshed, living and breathing human beings. We need to stop idolising them, placing them on a pedestal and worshipping them. Their fame and power shouldn’t allow us to overlook their damaging and derogatory behaviour. Abuse is abuse. The impacts of the act don’t change depending on the perpetrators, so neither should the consequences. Celebrities shouldn’t be protected from the wrath of the law and neither should their careers or reputation. Why do we so easily forget the past of the famous, when they release new music or feature in new films? Their power should not grant them protection. They shouldn’t be insulated from any repercussions. Celebrity culture should not evoke silence. Link in bio.


I’m afraid I’ll never be cured
from this illness-
a sin
that is feared by every prayer
When the beast of missing you
stands in trial across my flesh
Accused of coming back
even when it never left
There is a home made from your ashes
I’m here now ,
with the offspring of your farewells
dangling around my neck
Wounds incubating
in the heat of the moon
Like fruits
that are forced to ripen
I keep coming back
to us
in the moments before the unloving
as if I’m unabashed
by the sight of my brokenness
There’s no end to this craving
a lust for your heart
even when I can only take it
in tiny slivers
Because it gives me
a sense of fragility,
an honest reminder
that I am human after all...
Elle Bor


My scars will never be hidden under the false guise of perfection. They define my fortitude to keep going and my victory against giving up.
The greatest measure of strength comes not from showing up unscathed but in accepting vulnerability, knowing that you have truly lived.
And I just quoted myself 💁🏻‍♀️ 📸⚒️ @arch_duttydot (28 years later uploaded and edited 😂)


Because unlike them, I have a way of keeping myself alive in you even after I am gone. You will always search for me...
It remains winter
in parts of you
that have forgotten how to love me
Yet you long for my return
Hiding it cleverly in plain sight
with the hunger of a new born volture
scouring for dead things
in the grave of the living
such as a warm blanket
with someone who has my touch
breaking bread with the other who bears my smile
Your emptiness has been spoken for
in the echoes of my name
and I know you wish for me
in the million faces you see everyday
You don’t look for a place
when you miss home
just a heart in full attendance
Because the absence of me
comes with no ransom,
only a life sentence...
Elle Bor


I cannot stand to be accused of coming back, when I never left...


A fleeting view of the Hidalgo valleys and highlands. So beautiful yet temporary, much like you and me...


Late last year, CNN footage exposed that migrant slave markets were being hosted in Libya. Black lives were being sold as a commodity, auctioned on the market. Why in society do we accept all life, but black life, as invaluable? Why are migrants ultimately seen as a fraction of a human being? These people were stolen, stripped of their rights; used, abused and sold. Life is not dispensable and human beings are not merchandise. People argue that slavery is a thing of the past. That speaking about it, raises issues which as a society, we have moved on from. Slavery was, by record, abolished in the 1800s, but this has not prevented it’s occurrence in later years. This has not halted the exploitation of black lives. This happened in 2017. We have not progressed. Link to this poem is in my bio.


The phrase ‘treat them mean to keep them keen’ is thrown around too much in our society. It’s become a way of justifying degrading and damaging behaviours, and overlooking the subtle emergence of abuse. We shouldn’t allow boys to get away with any damage towards women, simply because the societal engrained myth encourages us to believe that this is a symbol of affection. Boys are not only mean to the girls they like. They’re mean to the girls they wish to control, dominate and mistreat. This shouldn’t be normalised or accepted. Us girls need to open our eyes and learn to differentiate between what may be a show of affection, i.e a harmless but cheeky joke, and what remains to be abusive. Sorry boys, but treating us mean, will most definitely not keep us keen. Link in my bio


I wrote this around Christmas time, after the terrible weather we were facing during winter. Day after day, I saw countless posts about finding shelter and food banks for homeless people and so, I thought my article was relevant. Now these posts have disappeared, the hashtags have stopped and our focus has shifted, and so I’d say this article is more relevant than before. The weather changed, but the situation didn’t. There are still masses of homeless people on the streets, but now the weather is warming up and other hashtags are trending, I’ve not seen anybody post about sheltering the homeless and this is exactly my point. Helping people shouldn’t be a trend. It shouldn’t be something you do, simply because you see others doing. Live authentically and help people because they demand your help, not because you saw a post about it in your news feed. #anythingbuthomeless
Link to this article is in my bio.


I am a feminist. This doesn’t mean that I hate men or that I want to see men do badly, whilst women progress. In fact, I stand for men, but equally I stand for women. I stand for equality. I’ve noticed that men are often criticised for outwardly displaying their emotions, whilst women are not. Ideally, I want all boys, from a young age, to be aware that it’s okay to be upset and more importantly, to ask for help and support when upset. I want to reach a stage of cultural understanding, where we recognise that one isn’t defined or limited by a projection of emotions. Holding everything inside is detrimental; crying is good for the soul and a source of healing. You can’t live in harmonious alignment through the restriction of emotions, whether that be depression or elation. Tears show pain, not weakness. Stop using the phrase ‘big boys don’t cry’ and teach your sons that it is okay to cry. Link to this article is in my bio.


Racism is real, alive and growing. Ignoring the problem, does not remove the root of the cause, it only strengthens the issue. Racism is institutional and white privilege manifests from this. I’m not blaming, targeting or attacking anyone for their privilege - it is not a choice, but how you use this power and privilege is. Use the power you have to speak out on issues and try to dismantle the system. Yes, issues like this are still occurring, but they should not be frequenting. Equally, the black community need to work together in unity to combat such issues, to rise above. Taking a back seat, will only coerce a move towards the past. Like Rosa Parks, march to the front and be heard. Stop waiting for others to change and implement this change. As Ghandi said, you must ‘be the change you wish to see in the world’. Link to this article is in my bio.


So this is what it’s all about. I started informally writing from a young age. I used to go to poetry slams and workshops, and competed at a few spoken word events. Writing, for me, acts as a form of escapism from the mundane and the insane. I hope that through this platform, I’m able to confront and hopefully even begin the process of combatting the long list of society’s issues. Society is a construct, a lie; and so, we must work together to deconstruct the unrealistic expectations and negative stigma, bound to certain groups trapped within the system. ‘Ethereal Truth’ link in bio (the above is my blog ‘about’ page)


Ethereal Truth. It took me ages to decide on a name for my platform, my blog and my brand. I wanted a name which was unique, but also honest. A name which encapsulates exactly what I’m expressing. ‘Ethereal’: ‘delicate...in a way which seems not of this world’. The topics which I am exploring, are very delicate and hard-hitting. Often we try to pretend that such fragile subjects, are not of ‘this world’. The word ‘Ethereal’ includes the phrase ‘the real’, which is what I want to serve: real, harsh truths. ‘Truth’: ‘the quality or state of being true’. In one of @rupikaur_ ‘s poems, she wrote ‘never trade honesty for relatability’. I don’t write for agreement, acceptance or entertainment. I write to uncover the truth.


I am a writer. I am an artist. I am a poet. Words are my dearest form of expression. One of my main aspirations in life is quite simply, to write. To write on my own experiences, the experiences of others and my surroundings. I created a blog page (etherealtruth.com) with the hope of exposing the unsaid and the uncomfortable. I hope to open people’s eyes to society’s pragmatics. I hope to inspire.

Enjoy all that’s to come.