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kidalmost every damn day
i halt words that are about to spill from my throat,
i hiccup over sentences that i can't bear to speak.
three letter words can serve as a trigger
that launches a full fledged attack on my nerves,
which in turn launches me out into the street.
and every time my heel hits the pavement
all i can hear is "get out. get out. get out."
all i know is that i need to get out.
and i need to get out fast.
but almost every damn day
i spit out terms of endearment
for all of those who
i hold so dangerously high.
i almost collapse under their weight
when that short, seemingly insignificant word
almost sneaks past my lips.
the soles of my sneakers
can barely hold me aloft
when i run with such panicked purpose,
hearing nothing but
"how could i almost- how could i almost-
how could i almost say-"
and knowing that
indeed, i almost said it.
and almost every damn day
i lash out at the memories
that i've cut into jigsaw pieces,
trying to throttle the
panic-prone girl i've grown from
it's true - i'm leaving youconvincing a child that someone is now
from their life is a matter of
saying goodbye, wiping up tears,
and never seeing a trace of them
as an eighteen year old,
i would have appreciated the child's version
of this ritual of persuasion.
instead, i got two-month intervals of
delay and lingering,
times of remaining identical
to the stale soul i had become.
i could count the intervals
exactly to the day -
two months was the longest
anyone could go before shattering
into insignificant shards.
as a twenty year old,
i have become skeptical
of the idea that someone could
leave at all.
i might not speak to them,
i might not see them,
i might not notice things around me
that used to define my vision of them,
but the absence of habits
gives absolutely no validity
to the claim that they are
forever gone from my world.
i have spent four point zero two percent
of my life with dulled senses.
for ten months
my vision was blurry,
my hearing was garbled,
my sense of smell was pract
you wonder how you ended up herewhat am i doing to myself?
that surge of panic
a heart-stuttering, mouth-opening, clenching-of-the-jaw
the realization that my hands are to blame
for the strength of my bones
for the confidence in my eyes
for the smile that comes so naturally now-
how do i take this back?
how could i be such a stranger to myself
how could i let my dreams fall away
how could i pack it all into a single shoe box
how could i leave her behind,
after all she's done for me?
this line is much too thin to walk
and my bathophobia is making me stumble
one side of the fence houses
fruit, sweat, strength, genuine laughter, newness of life
and enough self-worth to inspire
the other contains
blood, tears, collapse and destruction, a lack of sleep
and enough regret to drown everyone i've ever loved
and yet, in my eyes, it is comfort
how do i choose between health and safety?
why am i making myself destroy one life to start an
you will never feel quite cleanempty bottle resembles empty heart
and empty head,
and empty bed
every song is a punch to the gut
reminding her that she must
be better, be stronger, be confident
and yet relapse is on the road
to the imaginary land of recovery
she develops an intense relationship
with her lonesome bed
blanets reach out to keep her pinned
-with tear-stained cheeks, chewed up nails,
swollen shoulder blades
her mattress is desperate for the kisses and sighs
she gives it night after night
somewhere that i despisei.
every meal is an unavoidable family feast
meat, bread, cheese, dessert
regret is building inside of me-
inside my stomach, my thighs, my cheeks.
clouds, freezing wind, pouring rain
a sad excuse for summer
it leaves me just as down
as i was a year ago today.
pressured to look busy, to be busy
to go places without transportation
to see people who are states away
to go outside in the lifeless sun.
privacy is sunday mornings and showers
watch what you say, what you show
be prepared to defend a tear or fist
don't you break down. not here.
breakdowns aren't accepted at home.
many trains and many milesWe met on a street out in the middle of Brunberry. Often times, we'd sit on the curb, watching the middle aged man in the corner house fix up his boat-of-a-car. Or, on Sundays, the chubby, bakery-esque woman would walk her grandchildren down the road to church. We were young, then. I still visit that street in Brunberry, and, in fact, it is called Feldspar Road. The man on the corner, with the old car? His name is Charles North, and he's a retired mechanic. The grandmother is dead now, but her daughter and grandkids moved in a couple years ago. I still come back and check up on those people, and I still watch the leaves fall in autumn and watch water pool around our favorite bench in spring. The air is just as crisp as when we were children. Feldspar Road is just as it was when we were young.
Just off of Feldspar Road, there is a park. Really, it's just a wide, open field, with unkempt grass that the neighborhood has
Snow Princess (America x Reader) A/N : Sorry for not being true to my name and only posting poetry and journal entries lately! Honestly, this is more of a hope i have for me and this guy I like that isn't fictional, because in North Carolina, if it snows at all, it only snows an inch or so and its really watery,and it has never once snowed to the point where someone couldn't leave the warm embrace of their house. Enjoy anyway.
It was a cold December morning, and your downstairs was embedded in darkness. You checked the time, 10:45 am? and still dark out? That couldn't be right. You went upstairs to where your kitchen was (your house was a little strange, alright?) And were greeted by rays of sunlight. You smiled, the sunlight seemed pure, and you couldn't see a cloud in the sky. You looked out the window. The ground was nothing but white also. But wait, how did the ground reach up to your second story window? The realisation hit you like a brick.
You were snowed in
Normally in situations where
Bitch,Please! (BTT x Reader) C7"Go what?!" Antonio said, bewildered.
"You heard me Toni, go streaking" you said,smirking
"Or you embarrassed your boyfriend Lovino will see you?"
"It's not like he hasn't seen you naked before mon ami" Francis chuckled, causing the Spaniard to turn redder than his prized tomatoes, but reluctantly remove his clothing where none of you could see him and walk out into the frigid weather.
-10 minutes later-
"Bastardo!" Antonio ran in, covering his privates as a shoe went flying past his head as he slammed the door. He walked around, not remembering whet he had placed his clothes. He found them and bent over, you bit your lip. Damn did he have an ass! After Antonio had his clothes back on the next round began
"Alright Francy, you have to... wear England's clothes until the next round is over."
"But mon cher! Zhey're so tacky!"
"I don't give a shit you lost so you have to do it"
he sighed and pulled on the Englishmans clothes that he got
Winter Perils - The China Doll GangAudrey had been taken completely by surprise when she made her way to the kitchen to fetch some more wine for her and her mother, and saw the apparition hanging in the air. A ghostly white face, seemingly just hovering there. It was only when she had felt the hand on her shoulder, and saw the grey outline of the woman stepping forward, that she realised not only was it not a ghost, it was someone who she had read about in the Daily Mail.
She stood, unable to move from a combination of fear and disbelief as the long rope was draped around her neck and down her shoulders, before her arms were pulled back by the motion of the rope spiralling down them, her wrist fixed together in the small of her back, the rope digging into her bare arms as the intruder then wound the rope around her body and chest, criss-crossing her black t-shirt as the person in front of her removed the long turquoise scarf from around her neck, and rolled it into a tight band...
“About time, Audrey w
Perfect Boys Only Exist in Books Thank you.
Thank you for finding me, amongst all the others. For noticing me, for finding me appealing, whether it be my name or cover or even because of the hand that had written me.
I'll try my best not to disappoint you. I hope you like my plot, the characters, the words chosen.
I hope you like my ending.
I feel your loneliness when your arms tighten around me, and I do my best to comfort your with my words. I do my best to be your friend.
I like when you cradle me in your hands, and when you turn my pages it tickles.
You never seem to forget about me. I'm always on your nightstand and riding in your bookbag. But of course my favorite place is in your hands.
You finished me pretty fast.
I know the ending made you cry; I felt your tears on my pages and it smudged a word or two. But that was okay, because after, you smiled.
I felt you hug me against your heart one last time.
The next day, I'm back on the shelf. But this time, I'm not so lonely,
Because I got to experie
Winter Perils - The Gentlemen Robbers“I must say, it is most accommodating of you to offer us some hot coffee,” the tall man said as he sat in an armchair, sipping the black beverage from a cup. “It is a cold night, and this is very welcoming.”
“No matter the circumstance, we must show hospitality,” the woman sitting opposite him said. She was wearing a long gold coloured robe with a brown floral print on it, and a white scarf that covered her hair and head so that only her face showed. The scarf had a brocaded edge, and was held in place by a gold pin.
“Will you be taking this,” she said as she put her hand to it.
“No – I have no desire to make you disobey a requirement of your faith,” the man said as he sipped his coffee again, the cup held firmly in his black gloved hand. He was about six foot five, and wore a black leather jacket over a roll necked sweater, trousers and shoes. The outfit was completed by the black balaclav
Beauty and the Shifter (a Disney scene parody)
Beauty and the Shifter (a Disney scene parody)
It was raining out as Hilary ran to her destination. Meanwhile, a prideful shifter was saddened, his beauty ran off to help her father get a hospital. For him, it felt like his heart ripped out. He didn't care of Matthew's appearance, at least until Matthew shot him with an arrow from his crossbow.
Matthew was the son of the headmaster of the shifter hunter school, who loved Hilary, but she hated him. "Get up!" Matthew said, laughing as the male shifter, all four of his eyes empty. "What's the matter, Shifter...'Too kind and gentle' to fight back?!" Matthew said, smirking at the whining sound Mori made. Hilary ran up through the rain in time to see Matthew getting ready to kill Mori, "No!" Hilary yelled, giving some life into Mori's eyes. "Hilary?" Mori asked, wondering if his eyes were playing a trick on him. "No! Matthew don't!!" Hilary yelled, tears forming in her beautiful blue eyes. Mori shifted into a monster, something that looke
all of itall i know is that my body is trembling from how angry i am, and i refuse to
cry. my body is bruising, and i love it. my fists are twitching with how
much i want to punch you in the face. i want blood. i want blood on my
all you do is lie to me. it doesn't matter if it's something important or
something insignificant, you lie regardless. you lie about yourself, you lie
about me, you lie about others. you're just a liar.
all people do is take advantage of me. you did, he did. everybody does. you
say you love me, you try to keep me from falling to pieces. all you're really
doing is fucking me and holding me in your tight grip so that i can't be loved
by anyone else. i'm sick of this.
all i've been thinking for the past year is that i need to take a break,
figure my life out. my life will never be figured out, and any time i think
i've got i
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More