Pour salt in the wounds
That still bleed for you
Forget her it's better I don't know the truth
I don't want you
I don't need you
Yes I do
Tell me you're sorry you broke my heart
For the pieces of me you tore apart
Your blind drunk and venomous work of art
Your denial, self loathing, it never erases
The events, the experiences, inside you they hide
Consuming your soul
Your True purpose denied
Existing with turmoil, life filled with despair
You keep telling yourself, "this is so unfair"
So follow your instincts and work...
It was a cold New York morning.
You sat me down in that smokey cafe and told me that you didn't like how I had become corrupted by the world of speakeasy joints and female independence. I heard your father's words in your commanding voice.
Of course I agreed with...
so don't laugh...
Breathing. I could feel her breath on my neck. That’s how close we were. So close I could hear her, feel her, breathing. I knew she was uncomfortable being this close, but she did nothing to express it. I held her in my arms as my body was crouched over hers...
Does anyone else here daydream about a story they are writing? I find myself so involved in something I am working on, that I literally walk around with my head in the clouds all day at work, and I can barely wait for the weekend when I can park it in front of my computer...
so dey look like dis: ‘meh’
Unedited stuff from me book, humor me, will yah? XD
"Well, well, if it isn’t for her most gracious in the very flesh!"
Lyanna looked up from her book with a start to see the High Duchess of Varice lowering herself into a deep curtsey.
Freezing my blood,
Drawing out my rapid,
I can't think.
I can't move.
Fear and anxiety seep through my bones,
Poisoning me from the inside,
Clawing its way up my spine.
A tear rolls down my pale cheek,
Turning from a single drop
To a steady stream of agony...
A spinning compass
A shredded map
Your fingertips across my lips
Tiny little slivers
With the shards left from words
That I spoke in reverse
Mixed anger with hurt
And you tasted it first
Open my mouth and the devil comes out
that pushes me around. I go through periods where everything seems poetic and I want to capture that moment and paint it into existence.
I started writing erotic stories a while back and I love it. Love to sketch a woman's desires. I try to write with passion and sincerity...
co author our imaginings, but you returned to reality... My muse! I miss you!
You made my insanity plausible.
You were my escape.
You helped me breathe in and out when I didn't exist in the here and now.
But you went back through the looking glass.
We're you ever here with...
and the Word became life. The life spoke of the Word, proclaiming it to the corners of the world. But speech was not powerful enough, and thus silence followed. And in the sound of silence music formed music powerful enough to conquer cities and minds, to crumble walls of doubt...
town on the Alberta prairie. The Welcome To and Come Back Soon signs were on the same post. They rolled the sidewalks up promptly at six, noon on Wednesdays. Friday night was late night shopping, the stores stayed open until nine. It was almost a social event. Sundays...
Date a girl who writes.
Date a girl who may never wear completely clean clothes, because of coffee stains and ink spills. She’ll have many problems with her closet space, and her laptop is never boring because there are so many words, so many worlds that she’s cluttered...
Miss “B” The year was about 1959. I was in high school. I was a very good student in grammar school, but for various reasons I tossed all that and fell down on the job in ninth grade. Puberty and the teen years were very dark periods for me…I was depressed and sad which...
let him go ; let go of her
We can't let go unless we're sure
For something that can dislocate
Something cold to numb the ache
Something to be our next mistake
Something like love lying in wait
Satans got his eyes on me
With marked intent , selfishly
The cross I wear...
though I'm beautiful
Even though my souls for sale
My dark skin slowly going pale
The rush of my blood going stale
I can rise like a Phoenix
From ashes to freedom
A goddess like Venus
But you'll never see this
I am merely a formality
Abstract from your reality
they see me as shy, dumb and invisible. But that's not me, to be honest no one really knows who I am, people think they know what I am thinking and what I would do in most situations, and most of the time they are wrong. I'm at that horible age when your not sure what the future...
strange charm of the two love struck souls standing so elegantly at the end of the aisle. Intensity struck right from their cores as they recited the lines of surrender, with a gleaming look of accomplishment appearing in their eyes. They stared at each other with cheeky grins...
An open book of codes
Ive hidden all the pain, But through my laughter it shows
A rare tale yet it's all really the same
The moral of the story is nothing, just a game
Like hide and go seek, what can you find?
I suppose i left those minor details behind
You can only know what i...
and dreamt I was a feather. A little white feather. Not perfect but small twisted and worn. Still beautiful. Delecate and soft like a fragile snowflake. The wind lifted me up in the sky.
The wind pushes me forward twisting and spinning. I get dizzy. I float for miles...
I started writing on a daily basis when I was a freshman in High School. I had a teacher that was also a professor at a well known university. He loved creative writing and journaling. His love of the written word soon was instilled in me. ...
Your mind is clear
Severing your solitude
You hear her
Calling out to you
Lies deep in her eyes
Between her thighs
Absolve the mediocrity
With a pain so deep
Rage becomes need
Your illusions lie...
Brings about the pain and memory buried within.
I miss your touch.
I miss your face.
The warmth of your hand on my thigh,
My skin crawls and peels back with a sheer distaste.
I’m falling away from your reality,
Scrambling for once to be,
The only desire you’ve ever known...
a damp day as she crawled along the cold wet ground. Her movements almost serpent like as the decaying leaves upon the dirt brushed against her underbelly and crinkled under her tiny feet. Each motion weighted down by uncontrolled thoughts and feelings of what she must do...
would that make it easier or harder? Would we prepare for what's coming, or would we just run?
We all get this feeling, this moment of regret, fear and sadness. This moment can either last for a minute or a lifetime. We promise ourselves that we are going to change, that we...
I write to get out the demons. Sometimes its painful, sometimes it makes me feel happy. It's nice when some else tells me they can relate. Even if I'm alone in my thoughts, I prefer to move them from pain to paper.
I have written for years, most of my life really. I fill...
The taste of your kiss
Our tongues entwined
All of my demons
Submissive to you
Watching you gently
Break me in two
I want to feel your pain
Driving into me
Because I self destruct
I'll play the martyr
Just erase this ache
Kiss me harder
but not for no reason. I cant just sit down and write. There has to be a reason. I love sending letters. I know its super outdated but I do feel like when you live far from someone it gives you nice piece of real memorabilia but I've never even met someone really that wanted to...
I know that at times, I am
breaking down walls,
devastating in my destruction. And yes, I realize that I will never be
that easy Sunday morning that you always craved.
But what I am not
is a living apology.
I will not carry around with me a
suitcase filled with
and bad memories keep me up at night. What shall I do?
- You are the shepherd, your thoughts are the sheep. Count the sheep. Make sure that none of them stray. Keep them safe. Now, those sheep are your thoughts, that have been all negative lately. You must sacrifice all those...
and cold sweat
Move across my untouched flesh
My bruises are fading
And I'm contemplating
Ways to entangle myself in your web
Cold air in my face and I only taste you
Unfair , but I wait and I crave only you
A sickness of desire
And scenes in my mind
Your touch gets me...
writing different stories about my life, thoughts, and fantasies besides sex. As a woman today, I still enjoy writing when I have time to do so. I have not had anything published but maybe some day I will we a published author.
the person I've become. Part of me wants to remain prim and proper and be the innocent girl some think I am. I dipped my toes into a sinful life full of hatred and the ugliness rubbed off on my soul. My eyes sting with the exhaustion of yesterday and my heart aches for the young...
.. Since I last felt the sun's warmth? Or even seen it at all? This winter never seemed to end and when I thought it would the news would say more snow was on the way. I feared that this was the end of the world.
The power had been out for 3 weeks now. I was running low on food...
write a novel. It may turn out to be totally useless, but if it can get me writing again, it's worth it. All these feelings and thoughts need an out before they drive me completely insane. My favorite author says she writes because she can't do anything else. I think I...
I don't write as much anymore, because I've been overly tired and awfully overworked, but I wish I had more time to do things I want to do, and not the things everyone else expects me to do. I'm not a robot, and expecting me to do work as if I am is the shittiest thing someone...
I think not.
Do you know your soul?
I know not.
For if We did, we would embrace each others choices, no matter what they may be.
Do you know his heart?
I think not.
Do you know his soul?
I know not.
For if We did, we would honor his masculinity and raise him up in times if...
I haven't gone to school for it, I haven't really let anyone know until now. My best friend doesn't know, my parents don't know. I hate people reading what I write. It is like a phobia of mine. I don't even like reading what I write. Currently, my story is 247 pages long. Yeah...
I will admit that I am fearful. I am not ashamed of this and I do not regret it... because fear reminds me of my humanity, reminds me of caution, and spares me of my arrogance...
Fear isn't something to ignore, it is merely another obstacle to embrace and overcome.
but the hunger
Coursing through my being
Whispering your name
Til my fever breaks
I'd place my palms flat on the wall
That might sustain me
Shallow breaths filled with agony
The ache for you
To come to me
To satiate , end this pain
I am working on a couple of novels, they come from the brain and require discipline. I write erotica which id born out of passion and comes from your soul. But poetry comes from the heart and is born out of pain and despair. You will seldom meet a happy poet. Especially right...
he touches my heart and leaves leaving me smiling
Like a hollow case, I feel empty, not of my heart but of the mere absence of his touch
Like the shadow in the dark, my loneliness creeps in, leaving me missing him even more
Like beautiful light rain, our brief memories drop on...