Blame is a highly, highly strange thing.
Latching onto anything, it sews itself into the weak, the strong, the inbetweeners.
{Like fire-flies to light. Vice-versa. }
Simply because the world needs a bad guy.
In the same way, we need good hearts.
Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 10:39 AM UTC
Our lives are just like books
Filled with numerous chapters
We may not like what’s inside
But turning the page and
Continuing the story
Is the only way to move on
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 9:25 PM UTC
““You still love him,” he says, half question, half demand.
“Of course I don’t.” She replies.
But then part of her wonders whose arms she’d run into if she still had the choice.
“You still think of him,” he whispers, when she’s turned off the lights and lies there trying not to give her thoughts away.
“Go to sleep,” she says.
But when her eyes are closed and she drifts between consciousness, she swears it’s his voice she hears and his fingers tracing the rise and fall of her ribs.
“Do you miss him?” He asks.
“No.” And it’s not a lie, not really.
But part of her still remembers how he made her smile and how she buried her 2am laughter into his chest. Part of her still questions the possibility of seeing him again, and she thinks, maybe just once, for old time’s sake.
“Would you go back?” He finally asks.
And she can’t help herself.
“Yes.” She says, “yes.””
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 6:20 AM UTC
Madness. Stark raving madness.
Leaping flames of the mind. Gently licking
at the heart. Blood set on fire, brought
slowly to a boil. Madness. Stark. Raving.
Madness.
The conversation simmered as such:
"Don't be dramatic."
Is this how we go about
pretending we are shocked
when people cut themselves shoot themselves
hang themselves end themselves when
they are told to simmer as such:
"Don't be dramatic."?
Drama is my eye sockets bleeding
heavily at paper-crumbled past midnight.
But of course I cannot do that.
I cannot bring myself to bleed.
Drama is my hands effortlessly
clutching a neck- any neck, I don't care whose-
and squeezing until my eye sockets bleed.
But of course I cannot do that.
Drama is not a breathless exasperation
when suddenly a wave of the same old
same old begs to drown you again
and once again you must pick up a pen
to survive. Darjeeling you
tire me oh so very much. You hate me
oh so very much I think. You...
No, me
and my madness. Stark. Raving.
Madness.
Which I can't let happen again
because apparently dramatic is
being able to barely
take my next breath
and wondering why
respiration in a classroom
should be a mountain climb.
Jun 7, 2015
Jun 7, 2015 at 11:15 PM UTC
“I’m cold.” James glanced down at her words, but Irene was already moving, stepping around him. “Make room.”
“Wh-” before he could protest, Irene’s arms had wrapped around his middle, and her hands had slid into the pockets of his jacket, joining his own. he exhaled sharply, his breath misting in front of him.
“Should’ve been more prepared for the weather,” he told her cheekily, his fingers curling around her (much colder) hands. James felt her cheek press between his shoulder blades as she mumbled in reply.
“It’s supposed to be spring by now.”
Jun 7, 2015
Jun 7, 2015 at 11:05 PM UTC
roses are red
agapanthus are blue
i know this may sound cheesy
but i like you
accept my heart
it was always yours
please say yes
or my heart may be sore
Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 7:31 AM UTC
I met him through a mutual friend. I don’t know what attracted me in the first place and I don’t know what made me fall for him. I don’t know if it were his eyes, his lips, his voice. All I know is that as soon he touched me, as soon as he embraced me, I was his forever.
He makes me feel safe and like I can do anything.
When he first kissed me I could hear my own heart beat and all I could do was close my eyes. I could feel his hot breath against my skin, and before I knew it, his velvet lips were against mine. Time stopped and everything was perfect.
Hes perfect.
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 4:43 AM UTC
It took two words from Edward to Krystal.
"Hi"
Krystal looked up from the book she's been reading and saw Edward stood in front of her.
Krystal's eyes darted from side to side. No one's around; well, not around her, nor around him. Unmistakably, Edward La was talking to Krystal Kim.
"Um ... hi?"
Edward smiled, a lopsided one. Then, "Bye."
"....bye?" Krystal was frowning hard, but Edward only nodded contented with the confused goodbye as he walked away, hands shoved deep into his pocket while whistling.
At night before Krystal closed her eyes, she faintly remembered the song Edward whistled to; it was a soundtrack to Pirates of the Caribbean, wasn't it?
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 8:23 AM UTC