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habits.i could learn to love you, i swear.
i could hold your smile to my lips and your fumbled thoughts in my arms
where i can hug them to sleep at night. i could brush my fingers
against the dusted freckles on your cheeks, whisper for every one
a haiku for the night we sat laughing underneath the deep sky.
i could learn to hold every part of your soul tenderly
in my careless hands
so i never forget strength, kindness, generosity --
all the things you are made of.
you are the strength of the summer sun
and the peace of the full moon
and you are beautiful.
so don't turn away when i cry in the middle of the night
and can't tell you why.
hold me close to you, hold me close
with your jaw resting on my hair
and your arms around my shoulders
and please don't ask me why i cry.
when i find the strength to tell you i w
it's only the truth.
You never left home without your face on. He came to think that the mascara and the smoky liner were all a natural part of you, as inseparable as your bleach hair and your dripping smile. The artificial colours and the thick black lines, they were all a part of your charm.
And maybe you had a personality, but he couldn't see it beneath all your foundation. You pouted and you laughed and you tongued just like the glittery glamour girls on TV, and no one really cared what was underneath. When the wrapping is gorgeous enough, who cares what the gift is?
You fucked him at his house on a Friday night and the both of you fell asleep on his couch. When you woke up the next morning and picked your clothes off the floor, the sky was grey and his walls were grey and the crunch of cereal in your mouth was drowned out by his snoring.
He woke up and asked for coffee and maybe called you by another girl's name. You put your six inch fuck-me heels on and left, in the hope that the promise of mo
this.you have shaded eyes quiet smile dark hair love ─
and I could do anything
if it wasn't for you.
collapse the borders on the edge of my vision;
everything's faded out to black shards.
It's cliché and stupid and it won't mean a thing to you, but I know
I won't be able to breathe when you leave tomorrow.
the shield whispering around my skin
was untouchable, I thought, perfect;
no one would be able to get in.
But you passed right through without even trying.
around is what you always are, around here,
around the block, running circles around my head.
You get around so much your friends tease you
about all the girls you've held and dropped,
and I can't say I love you without lying anymore.
shatterglass.Last summer we watched the moon swallow the sun and you told me violence was romantic. It was 12 in the afternoon but the sky was midnight blue, and as you spoke your hand clenched into claws around my waist. I reached down to hold your wrist but you dropped your hand to your side before I could touch you.
I used to think it was impossible to love someone and never really know them, but you took all those illusions when you took my hand. Sometimes we sat opposite each other in starbucks and you faded away, just staring into the sky, your soul stolen to some distant place. Even when you were next to me I could feel the space between us like a snaking ravine.
In winter you showed me your scars. I think I expected them. I think I already knew that you weren't the boy everyone said you were. I watched you on solemn Saturdays scribbling words you wouldn't let me see. I saw your scrawling become jagged broken lines on the page.
I watched you and I didn't know how to ask you what was wron
i'll tell you a secret: someday this world is going to end
and when we die we'll only be left
with fragile memories
listen:If you let me --if you listened-- I would paint the sky orange just for you.
Today, you are a dreamer with your broken eyes and the heady ecstasy of your smile. I don't know myself from the paper on the wall. I could fall for you. [the way you hold your words to your chest is beautiful.] I could fall for you and you would only look away.
If you knew --if you understood-- baby, I would make these words beautiful like you. Like your dark hair and how it flicks into your eyes. Like the callused poetry of your hands. I would will the sky with my romantic dreams. I would fill my world with glory. I would fill my life with you.
If you touched --if you trusted-- love, I would hold them all away from you. The monsters that haunt your dreams will answer to me. I will hold you through the nights and I will make you safe. Please admit it, love. Please confess you're hurting. Please show me the scars on your wrists, release the tears you've trapped behind your lids.
If you looked --if
but your tears don't shiverso she died. and there were flowers on the grave but he couldn't see
anything through the fog, and there were people standing and crying
and shuffling their feet to get out of the rain,
but he couldn't see
so she died.
in the end it wasn't worth it at all, shivering on her own bed
haunted by the breath of her nightmares.
in the end it wasn't worth it because nothing changed
and there was no realisation, and there was no white light,
and there was no heaven, and life just went on and on and on
and in her dreams he cried, he came back,
and he was kneeling by her bedside,
wearing her favourite shirt with the blue and red stripes
and pleading, pleading, tears shivering
down his cheeks like beads of sweat.
but she woke up and he wasn't there.
so she died.
[he wasn't there.
he didn't come until it was too late
and she was already six feet in the ground,
underneath thick soil but still palpable,
still unbearably powerfully there.
he only came back during the funeral
because he on
Deep seas String your words up like pearls
and tie them around your neck,
so you can breathe them in
and hold them close to your heart.
you taste like honey and
you left the memory of rotten oranges
in my mouth.
i don't ever want to see you again.
you bore me.
you are too busy playing games with people's hearts
and tossing them up in the air so you can let them crash down.
you are too busy plucking flowers and eyebrows,
running away from the boy you love and
fucking the guy you hate.
you are too busy screwing up people's minds
to be an interesting friend.
the day we met started out like a car crash.
and you didn't make it any better.
i'll be carrying you on my back for a long time,
brown eyes red smile
sinner with your cherry lies.
i think you deserve to dance with the butterflies.
i like your curly hair and your smile and i think
you're the best out of all of them.
start running, honey. start running quick,
before their poison starts killing you from the inside.
i love you more than i love the stars.
you were sitting in my lap and i was reading you a book
and we were laughing. your skin was warm
maybe we'll cycle like seasonsSummer never came this year.
It got hot, uncomfortably so, and you would call me every Thursday like clockwork. Like always. But the taste in the air was different, so were the things you would say to me.
I spent the long nights, curled in my front window, watching the fireflies flicker in the yard. Letting them blaze and die before my eyes until I couldn't pretend to be okay doing this anymore so I would pull the curtains shut and hang up on you. Hang up on the only semblance of normalcy to split up these warm days.
The sky was pinpricked with stars--always brighter in the warm evening air and the lawn was sprinkled with violets again. Everything was as it should have been. Even the sting of sunburned skin against sheets as I crawled into bed each and every evening. The only thing that had changed was this year, you weren't here, and so for me, everyday would be as cold and empty as winter.
I never thought of the last time I saw you as a goodbye. I should have been better prep
MirageYou know how you broke me,
but maybe you don't want to know,
or maybe you just don't care,
but I do.
You've been a mirage to me
for these last two years.
A veritable paradise,
always in sight but
perpetually out of reach.
And I know what I've done seems stupid but
when you are dying in the desert
you walk toward anything that looks like water
even though as you get closer and closer
you start to realize that it's probably nothing
you keep fucking walking because
you need it to be something.
And now that I'm finally close enough,
I'm forced to realize you aren't really there.
That you've never really been there.
scattered words, pretty boy scattered words, you say he's a pretty boy
eyes like vignetted skies that have known all the constellations
and read too many late-night texts
hey pretty boy,
i heard you could paint smiles and write poetry all over your arms
because you're afraid that you'll forget; blue and black ink that stain like bruises
every word, every letter is death of another skin cell
but you think it will make her like you
Je veux regarder les étoiles avec vous
tu es belle, tu es belle
what more do you need to say? it's always 'you', it's never me
i want to hear no more
and when you like nothing feel like doing nothing
don't know where to belong, or don't know what to say,
scattered words that i can't pick up off the dusty floor
just know, that I'm feeling the same
this wall between us --;cold ice
like shattered candy pieces
someday, i'll be able to
fourteenwhen you are too far,
sadness sifts over me
as the silence grows louder,
the sleep grows heavier,
and you buckle beneath
when my heart has pressed
itself into your chest,
the veins in my hands
and wrists swell
and warmth colours my fingers:
i imagine how it will be when i
am there with you;
when you can sleep
and i can fill your arms;
when we are talking
and pausing for kissing
and your mouth moves slower
and into a state of sleep
and i can trace the shape of your face
when i can let you know
how much i love you without
the redness in my cheeks stopping me
instead of stopping.
when you are here,
i can stop wishing for you
to fall asleep with your body pressed
against mine and waking the
when you are here,
we wont need to want.
bird with a broken wing.-
it was late. the sea on the horizon looked like the end of the world and everyone was telling us to grow up when really all we wanted to do was dream. all we've ever wanted to do is dream.
the water was dark at the bottom of the rock bank where we sat; calm and still, smelling heavily of seaweed and reminding me of summers that i spent singing on rocks as i watched the waves at the beach.
the boys around me picked up small rocks and threw them as far as they could. i lleant back, looked up at the sky and asked them why they had to ruin it.
they said they had to know they could make an impact on something. that they could change something. anything
i thought i could see stars through the film of clouds, but i knew they were really just satelites.
it was the feeling of knowing i'd never be able to put your cds away. knowing that you'd never come back, but wanting to keep everything there, just in case.
it was my inability to put away the clothes you had lay out for tomorrow ni
more than butterfliesi'm tired of butterflies
no less fragile
than antique widow webs,
crickets with maraca wings
for fiestas at sunset.
he'll call a mate home
and she'll break his heart
and all night we'll hear
him chirping like a slain songbird,
singing himself to an owl's belly.
i'm tired of making wishes
on ladybugs whose spots
have shown up,
more plentiful than stars.
they may be closer
but they are nowhere near
(observe: little black-red buoys
struggling in a kiddie pool.)
i'm tired of moths
daring too close to light,
cicadas composing symphonies
too close to Mozart,
just as a team
just in the sunlight.
i'm tired of envying
the lethargic piety
of praying mantises
because if they have a god
i want to know him
and i want to ask him why
he made the smallest butterflies
like pianist fingers and why the keys
they play in the valleys
are not monochrome.
i want him to tell me
why beehives could be
pyramids in a humbler land
of milk and honey
and why he lets spiders
spin Sistine C
I never saw it coming.
I was caught unaware.
I was never prepared.
I didn't protect my heart.
You were amazing.
You were irresistible.
You touched me in too many ways.
I became so addicted.
I want to make love to you.
I want to protect you.
I want to make a life with you.
I want to take care of you.
I couldn't be stronger.
I didn't try hard enough.
I couldn't halt my descent.
I couldn't get you out.
I fell in love.
may as well buy another packcollapse, and breathe into the carpet:
sunday mornings are not
for falling apart, but damn
the amphorics, this
is not an atmosphere.
you fell in love like you always
wish you didn't, made all their
smiles replaceable, interchangeable,
fell asleep with shadows and kept
drinking, just letting yourself sleep
with blue pills
and tried not to scream.
(keep this image in your head:
fire and nectarines, a sudden jerk
of realization, inspiration
breaking your neck and leaving you forever
breaking bones is not so different
from breaking hearts - it's all about
the leverage, the angle, the mode
(and at least it wasn't personal;
it can color in your own guilt
for starting lines and never ending
The Panic Room (A Supernatural One-Shot)“Dean…? Dean?”
The name felt like lead on Sam’s tongue, so thick and heavy that he wasn’t sure if the syllable had actually made it past his lips.
The only reason he was aware of something cutting into his neck was the trail of red that was marking a small pathway against the stark fabric of his shirt. The dark suit and tie that usually accompanied the white-collared look were missing, but he couldn’t remember why.
His brother’s name seemed to drop soundlessly into the dark space before him. Everything felt heavy. Dull. Maybe he was dreaming.
But dreams shouldn’t smell of dust and abandonment. They shouldn’t be framed by cobwebs and wallpaper so aged that their floral design has faded into funeral bouquets. They shouldn’t have flickering candlelight and robed figures looking down on you.
No, dreams shouldn’t be like that.
But Winchesters don’t have dreams. They have nightmares. Sam smile
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