April 2013
احلام: Self-Destruction Like Empires Stretched Too... →
someonesambition:
her profession in emotional support
makes for a wiz in emotional abuse
she wrote letters in journals
but didn’t send them to you
then wondered why you never came around
to say how much you loved her too
she cut herself like a pound of chicken
that she couldn’t marinate for shit
and gathered mental fantasies
the same way an audience would gather to sit
played like a...
The scars on my soul are words.: Trust me... →
tarnishedsoul:
“Trust me” he whispered
his breath against her ear.
She held her breath unable
to murmur her wanting…
He placed the cloth over
her eyes, and suddenly
she was shivering in
sensual anticipation.
Silk cloth bound her
wrists and she could
not help but whimper.
Fingers shed her clothes
…
A poem written whilst waiting for a plumber to...
tarnishedsoul:
I used to think
I needed no one.
That I was a rock,
standing alone
in an ocean of trouble.
But I want a cup
of tea… or soup.
And someone to
come fix my sink.
(there’s a leak ).
And perhaps tuck
me into bed and
tell me things
will be just fine
and I don’t have
Ebola or Dengue fever.
Great fucking rock
I turned out to be!
Halfway Through The Story
umustcreate:
With a steady hand
I compose all my feelings
The tears come later
poeticallyundead:
In searching for myself I’ve lost who I once was. Now I’ve lost myself in your gaze, dreaming of becoming lost within your arms.
4.10.2013
wearemostaliveindreams:
I have
forgotten,
how to love.
Not because
of the people,
but from the
disappointment,
of being alone
and how
comfortable
it feels, draped
around me.
Being wounded,
and begging
to be validated
is not for me.
Not anymore.
