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Feyre Jun 21
an emerald dress, flapping in the wind,
flailing on the petulant breeze.

the cliff face, rocky and jarring,
jutting out where sky meets sea.

the peak of a wave, crashing into stone,
relenting and dissolving its fury.

a girl, rosy-cheeked and fresh-faced,
her chin jutting as the cliff,
her eyes sparkling as the ocean,
and her mouth set as stone.

an echo, a call into the night,
a note of anguish and despair,
of tragedy and torment.

one hand, raised into the night,
reaching for the stars.

the waves crash,
the wind beats,
the moon sings,
and the stars burn.

and the girl,
in the emerald dress,
her voice echoes,
and her feet lift,

and it’s free falling.

the dress in the wind,
a bird flying through the night,
fabric floating on the air,
a creature -
airborne.

a moment of flight
with no ******,
just a bird
coasting on the breeze,
then a fish,
flailing in the depths.
i don't know how else to describe this feeling.
Feyre Jun 20
writing and scribbling and scrawling down my all thoughts,
each and every
dark and sinister alley twisting in the curves and
    crevices
of my mind.
dusty, hidden corners filled with filth -
hidden by the shadows of my
    weighted self.
sometimes my mind feels like it's rotting
  Jun 20 Feyre
Kalliope
I cradle hurricanes in my ribcage
while words swirl around my head.
I try to catch the good ones-
but mostly, I wish I was dead.

I do everything too much-
the joy, the sorrow, the dread.
Yet somehow, I’m never enough-
what a curious truth to be force fed.

If I laugh, it’s always too loud;
my mouth too sharp to make anyone proud.
Crying is a dangerous game,
I could sob away a city, drown in the blame.

My rage leaves no survivors,
as if I line people up on personal pyres.
When I vent, they hear preaching-
a sermon no one wants, a fear of my leeching.

I don’t love, I dissect-
obsessively search for the trap I expect.
I can’t just leave; I burn it all down-
the bubbly, funny girl wears a permanent frown.

I do too much and my inner child feels seen,
She's acting out, we aren't this mean
I just get scared when the vibe is off, and ruining the mood makes the blow more soft.

Despite the chaos I still crave love, an equal partner, wearing fireproof gloves.
If I weather your storms, could you handle mine?
Storm chasers have never been easy to find.
Feyre Jun 19
I’ve been to the darkest depths of the world,
And felt the cold hand of death caressing my chest.
I have seen the true mark of hatred,
And inflicted the pain of fire.

But never, never have I been deeply touched
Like the warmth of the burning sun
Or with the sparkle of the night sky’s stars.

Have you ever put yourself through hell just to keep someone else alive?
Have you ever been stabbed in the chest and had the knife twisted,
Yet felt nothing at all?

I’ve walked with sisyphus,
And flown with icarus,
But never have I step foot in the hallowed halls of Olympus.

Have you ever been deeply and truly loved?
Because, I have.
Loved with the glowing red warmth of a heartbeat.
Loved like achilles at the break of war.

Have you ever felt deep and true love for another?
Because never, never have I
Felt my heart beat in rhythm with another’s,
Or looked upon a face and felt like I’d set sail on a hundred ships
Just to fight for her.

I’ve never felt my chest rise and fall in time with their breath,
Never have I held a hand and felt my chest alight in sparks and warmth.
Have you ever felt this way?
The pain and the raw passion of heartache?

Because one day, one day,
I hope I can say that I have ever
Felt that way.
great grief is the mark of great love,
a heart broken is proof that a heart can feel.
  Jun 19 Feyre
Pri
I bite.
Not with teeth.
with silence,
with sharp glances,
with walls built higher than your reach.

I’m not cruel.
I’m just tired
of being kind first
and torn apart second.

You call it attitude.
I call it armor.
Because being soft
never saved me.
It only made the fall hurt more.

So I speak less now.
Agree less.
Trust less.
I pull away before someone has the chance
to walk out first.

It’s not that I don’t want love.
I’ve learned that even “I care about you”
can come with conditions.
Even soft hands
can leave bruises
you can’t see.

I bite
because once,
I didn’t.
And it nearly broke me.
(inspired by Isle of Dogs)
  Jun 14 Feyre
Caits
love me in the crowded room
where no one is watching
watch me dance among the stars
and bellow at the wind

let me sing my worries
and whisper my joys

love me like you love the falling leaves
with your hands tucked in your pockets
before jumping in with everything

love me like you aren’t afraid
in a crowded room
for someone to see you
Feyre Jun 13
'you’re the greatest love of my life', he said.
age eighteen,
wind in your hair,
going 80 on the motorway,
and you were in free fall
whilst he was laying down roots.

flash forward, and he was crying.
branches swaying in the breeze.
'you’re the greatest heartbreak of my life', he said.
and you felt a pang, a twinge, on your heartstrings
whilst he lay his heart on his sleeve,
your eyes dry,
whilst his were weeping.

flash back, to your hand in his,
swinging in the stagnant air of summer,
a light smile on your face,
a burning intensity in his eyes.
your laugh tinkled in the air,
whilst he gripped your hand tighter.
but it was hot, and your hand was sweaty,
and your grip loosened,
and your hand slipped out of his,
and his smile fell.

'you’re the greatest loss of my life', he said
over the phone, voice low and raw.
and you blinked and felt nothing,
whilst he claimed to feel everything.
didn’t he see, how couldn’t he see,
that you were nothing new?
i guess he never knew you at all.

to the present, to the now,
your eyes catch his across a crowded room,
a glimpse of the past,
a snapshot of before
before he drops his eyes,
and he raises his hand,
intertwined with another’s.
you float over the room like a ghost
and your ears pick up his words,
-'she’s the greatest love of my life', he says,
and he raises their hands,
he kisses the bunched rope of fingers and palms,
and she’s smiling,
she’s beaming,
and his eyes burn intensely,
and he roots his hand in hers,
and his heart shines out of his chest,

and finally you understand his words.
'you are the love of my life.'
it was wishful thinking, an affirmation thrown into the air,
but the wind blew and it struck the wrong person,
an actor who wasn’t up to play the role.

because he was wrong.
never the love of my life,
and the words echo now,
that I wasn’t the love of his,
either.
a breeze blew and hair flew across my eyes,
and his laugh echoed across the space between us,
and i smiled
and my chest ached
and my heart wept
but he smiled back.
this is for the ones who yearn for heartbreak, simply for proof that they fell in love. the ones that never felt enough when it mattered, but felt too much when it was too late. here's to getting your closure.
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