Love letter to myself.Small handed girl,you've written the truthof your scars wherever there'sspace to write itand I love you.They painted overthe rape you wrote abouton the front door ofyour Uncle's houseand I love you.They took the floorboardsof your bedroom out where you'dcarved the shape of yourfather's fist into theirvarnished surfaceand I love you.You shook the sand ofyour fifteenth birthday out ofyour hair and into a jaryou keep under the bed toremember a girl with crookedteeth and bony knees whofled and flewand I love you.You've built yourself into afortress with nothing but yourfingernails and shredded skinand you let him in when hewaited by the door instead offorcing his wayand I love you.
.And maybe i'm stillasleep,dreamingaboutthefuture - -whilemybodyremainsabandonedinthepast.
EclipseYou dreamed me.A breath in crescent pulses suddenly I am existing in your pillowed fantasies tucked beneath heavy eyelids.Soft, willing moon flesh there is magic in your bones.Vulnerable, we remained entwined carried by the night tide imperfect I am yours.-D.E.M
That Tomboyish Hetalian ( France X reader ) Prt.1YO! so yeah, I have seen so many damn Hetalia X readers. I read the France X readers, I though this would be cool if you put your actual personality in this?? yeah;; anyways I hope you all enjoy this :3cIt was in the summer, and it was time to go onto high school. As the end of the year entered to the final day, you were mainly quiet and went on to the ceremony which that's where you graduate. After the end of it, you were pretty much sad a bit, since yourself and the other's were leaving all your friends for the summer.While at home, your mother was busy on the phone , probably texting and then going on to calling as usual, your family were all electronical freaks which yeah you mainly go onto the sites Tumblr, Devianart,Facebook and other kinds of sites. As you were in your room, onto your laptop as usual, you were pretty much a so called fan of all sorts of fandoms, such as probably Homestuck,Touhou,OHSHC, and many more BUT! you were into this one fandom called " Hetalia ". You sim
Throwback ThursdayYou know what I miss?The simple daysof aimless buses and trains,like magic carpetsthat helped us to escape,if only for a little while.I miss the endless walksthat led to hours ofstrip mall shenanigans--spinning in desk chairs,petting that little blind kitten,and reading anythingfrom cheesy joke booksto Frost's melancholic verse.I miss cheap deli lunches,discounted coffee house milkshakes, andmidnight conversations on the swingsat your old elementary school,with the moon so bright thatI could see your T-shirt.Remember that time when, hot chocolate in hand,we followed the soundof live fiesta musicsailing on the hollow winter airuntil we nearly crasheda Hispanic family's party?Or what about the momentsof heartbroken silencewhen we discoveredthe ruins of a pianoat the churchthat was once your daycare?I remember climbing, barefoot,halfway up Ricky's fenceto watch his illegal fireworksand stealing Mom's carin the dead of night,just for store-bought Chines
I Know You Hate Me Now But...I Know You Hate Me Now But...:Just give me a chance alright, I'll explainTo me, you're the girl that I notice everything about.The way you laugh, the way you smile;We got along great back then, even if we don't now.And to be honest, I miss that...You had the most lovely silky smooth hairYou'd give me the cutest anime girl smileI wish I'd talked to you more about Manga,Hell you got me started on the whole thing.You were fantastic at drawing tooMan I was always jealous of that talent,And I loved your drawings, like I once loved you.I wish that you could have been a professional.I would have bought your book every month y'know...You encouraged me to write.Back when my stories were shit,Back when my poems were still baby's rhymes.You taught me not to give in and I was grateful.Now just let me finish alright?I know that you won't speak to me.That's okay, I admit to being an ass,But the reason that I'm writing this poem to nobod
wilted petals on bedsheets and bathrobesi was full offlowers, once.soft blossoms and awild, arcing sky thatwould have takenyour breath away.but now i amwatching thepetals of myskin swirldown the drainand thinkingabout howmy depressionis a bodilypesticide,slowly stuntingall kinds of growthuntil finally,nothing tries togrow anymore.
The Difference Between Snakes and RopesLast night there was a womanwhere my girl was and she said to me,“This. That’s what he did.”A woman isn’t born vulnerable, butvulnerability is a part of personhoodand being self-aware of insecuritiesis more vividly human than vibrancy;more sexy than secrecy.I’d compose her movement to musicor pen it on paper, proffer it as poetryand profess confessions as lovebut I’d rather be on standby—even as passerby—because I ache and I acheall the time now, for her.For her I am sore and unstomachableand nurse wounds that aren’t mine.For her, I worry.I worry and I tighten knots,practice my box, bow tie, square, slip,and double coin knots and rememberthat the method to madness is comfort;being complacent with sanitymakes for insanityand being complacent with a loveris to take them for granted.I tighten the same knotand expect the same result,wind the bight around again,again, and again. And bite.I knot, bight;I kno
.falling in loveis like collapsingonto the groundwith daggers,blossoming from beneath.Does it makeme masochisticto want to f.a.l.l.in lovewith you,even if it meansevery time youtouch me -it feels like I'm dying.
Waking NightmareYeah ummm... The Poetry is the picture... Sorry Nothing to see here in the box...