I will not be taken so easily by seaboundstars, literature
Literature
I will not be taken so easily
she is standing
on the fringe of my thoughts,
telling me
"you don't know who you are
anymore."
i am at the ocean:
the shriek of the waves and the lull
of its serrated rocks;
sunlight tearing across my skin.
except, i am more sure
than i have ever been.
this is a precipice for me
and i am ready
to drown.
What starts as friends,
Must waver and bend.
As eyes slowly meet,
Stomachs churning.
Electricity building,
Hairs standing on end.
Evolving to burning.
Turning to yearning,
True love begins,
A friendship extends.
:heart:
Anita/Amarantheans (https://www.deviantart.com/amarantheans)
the graveyard cypress, act i by vvlpes, literature
Literature
the graveyard cypress, act i
the the the
trees trees trees
do not do not do not
speak. laugh. cry.
they only always a slip
rustle & the punch of the
whisper on -line, they hand, a
eclipses & accept arrows missed tar
when the light to the heart -get, oppur-
cuts halfway & hearts with tunity;
through arrows & sometimes they
their just a lop receive
trunks. -sided a name
.
i.
i like to count your ribs when you're not looking.
the hollow dips, the gentle pressure they put on your skin.
you're underweight by a few ticks of the scale,
but,
so am i.
ii.
we both hate taking our medicine.
so my hands shake and your lungs ache,
but we just laugh it off because we're young and we have forever.
right?
iii.
you like different books.
that's okay.
iv.
we rip the pages out of our memoirs and cry on your bedspre
1.
I roll off the bed and fall smack onto the knife.
Right, I think, and move it farther away.
2.
I’m electrocuted awake.
There are voltages in my tears.
3.
I crawl out of bed, reach for the knife,
and stab myself again and again and again and again.
3.
He is a pure thing. So, naturally, I want to wreck him.
I roll his fingers around the handle.
He looks unsure and dazed,
as if roused from sleep.
I kiss him behind his ear with a smile
and whisper filthy things into the hollow.
Okay, cut the scene. Let’s laugh about that.
And now let’s not pretend that the script
isn’t ruined; I’m angry how very good I am
Friendly with a crocodile by living-in-his-head, literature
Literature
Friendly with a crocodile
“Never smile at a crocodile
No, you can’t get friendly with a crocodile
Don’t be taken in by his welcome grin.”
Only when I leave the hull, expecting smooth waters,
does a hurricane stir.
Only when I want to enjoy the sound of gulls,
does the tick-tock call.
Only when I start to feel good,
do the eyes rise from the depths.
I remember days of Neverland,
sword fights with Peter Pan.
Tinkerbell, Lost Boys, children, Mr. Smee.
Gone are the days of games,