© meliapond

writingsforwinter:

This is a little prose piece I wrote called Sleepwalking. :)

(Source: deranged-allurer)

posted 1 week ago with 737 notes
via:writingsforwinter   source:deranged-allurer

Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Author Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Malia Tate/Kira Yukimura, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski

"I think we should start having sex," says Malia.

"What," says Kira.

posted 1 week ago with 11 notes
you taste like heaven
and feel like hell. my mother always said
that there is a secret
in the shadows of your eyes
that promises not to be told, that it will tear
us both apart.
our love story goes like this:
you call me at 3am and expect me to call back,
and i do, i do, i do and i hate myself for it.
you take my favourite shirt and pretend
you don’t fall asleep wearing it.
you kiss me with your eyes wide open
and love me with your mouth shut.
and i take it all. and i take it all.
our love story goes like this:
i will love you until you hate me.
and then i will love you still.
maybe she was right, php
posted 1 week ago with 7 notes
you should not be scared
of what breaks you.
it is the things that trip us
that remind us to keep getting up.
this is a reminder not a death sentence, php
posted 1 week ago with 2 notes

i loved you the way you left me,

slowly then

all at once


(we were never meant to be anymore

than the things that broke us)


maybe they’ll talk about us some day,

the way we fell apart


maybe they’ll talk about how we loved each other so much

it killed us both

posted 1 month ago with 5 notes
1. I left my favorite pair of underwear at your house. I know your mother hates me, can I come pick them up?
[delete]
2. It’s been almost a month and I still miss you like a fucking limb.
[delete]
3. I didn’t know my bones could ache until I met you.
[delete]
4. You know, a week before we broke up, do you remember? I had bought a book of poetry. You asked why I didn’t read something more interesting and I could feel my insides splinter.
[delete]
5. You said poetry was all lies dressed up to sound pretty. When I look at you these days, I want to ask if sadness sounds pretty to you too.
[delete]
6. It’s 3 a.m. and this alcohol tastes like you.
[delete]
7. I saw you staring at me today during Lit class. I smiled at you and you didn’t smile back. I almost cried.
[delete]
8. The girl who sits next to me smells like you.
[delete]
9. I miss you.
[delete]
10. I have never had so many bad nights.
[delete]
11. Sometimes I write poetry about you on the internet. Strangers who have never met either of us think you’re cruel – they tell me if they had the honor of loving me, we’d have sex three times a day and they’d scream my name when they came.
[delete]
12. They think it is beautiful, how I am broken. I don’t think they understand.
[delete]
13. You used to tell me I was beautiful. I tried saying it in the mirror the other day, but it sounded wrong without your mouth wrapped around it.
[delete]
14. Everything I say sounds wrong without your mouth wrapped around it.
[delete]
15. We were never in love, but, oh God, we could have been.
[delete]
"15 Texts I Almost Sent You" by d.a.s (via synthetic-synaesthesia)

(Source: backshelfpoet)

posted 1 month ago with 231,570 notes
via:randomdancingunicorns   source:backshelfpoet
10 things at seventeen.

I am not sure who I am.

I thought I knew. I don’t anymore.

Sometimes I feel so sad I wonder how other people can’t feel it, too,

and then I wonder if I’m sad or just angry

or if I’m not both.

The more I learn to like how I look

the more I hate who I am inside.

I have learnt that sometimes when people say they love you

they don’t mean it. Not every part of me is lovable,

but I try to believe that some parts are.

I keep my fingernails long as a replacement

that doesn’t really get the job done.

I believe in Prince Charming without

ever believing at all.

I have too many old train tickets. I never learnt

how to forgive.

I wish I did.

I wish I could.

I have made too many promises I never kept,

and I should tell more people I love them.

I should try not to be lying through my teeth

when I say it.

posted 2 months ago with 2 notes
'getting better'

whatever they tell you

about getting better

is wrong

the truth is

'getting better'

is continuous

it’s something we work at everyday

a chance to redeem ourselves

to climb back up

after we’ve fallen down

just because you’re down

just because you fucked up

doesn’t mean there’s no ‘getting better’

because we get better every time we don’t give up

every hospital visit we don’t need

every time we decide to distract ourselves

instead of giving in

we get better by just carrying on

that’s what makes us strong

and that

is what makes it worth it

posted 2 months ago with 4 notes
said the scientists to the romantics

In a lifetime, the heart creates enough energy

to drive to the moon and back.

The day he left I didn’t even have enough energy

to close the door behind him.

Too often people try to lecture me about love,

about how it’s infinite and glorious, about the edges of it,

the space it takes up. I tell them it’s all subjective.

I tell them about the time I slammed the door in his face

and he didn’t move his fingers quick enough. Seven fractures.

I drove him to the hospital and stayed all night in the dingy little waiting room

despite the fact that hospitals suffocate me.

That is love, I say. And he’s gone.

Sometimes I start poems with the intention

of writing about my loneliness, deep and thick,

about my sadness, about my fear of being alone;

I always end up here.

Love, I say, isn’t infinite. It isn’t even long-fucking-term.

If I could harness that energy to ride to the moon,

I think I’d rather use it all and then die out there in space

than wait around loving people in a way I don’t understand.

Love, I say, forget about love. Let me tell you about sadness.

Let me tell you about fear. Let me tell you about hurt,

sitting heavy in my gut.

Let me tell you about the moon, the way it sits,

cradled in the sky, waiting.

And let me tell you about him and his eyes,

about the things we sacrifice

for the people we find beautiful,

about how the knowledge that I could ride to the moon

with all the energy I was wasting on him

never made me love him any less.

posted 3 months ago with 6 notes
i’m sorry that you were not truly loved and that it made you cruel
posted 3 months ago with 6,828 notes
via:clementinevonradics   source:rarararambles