DarkI sit here aloneDark2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
All i feel is pain
All i think is dark
I cant control my feelings anymore
Happiness is but an illusion
I fake a smile
Inside I'm dying
What purpose does my life possess?
I'm hopeless at everything
I cant bare this pain
Its all i feel
Cut off from reality
Like an empty shell
What everyone's thinking
Many things swarm my mind
I cant escape it
It follows everywhere
Looms behind me
Better Left Unsaid.You'll be a lawyer-Better Left Unsaid.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I'll be a writer.
You'll probably make more money but-
At least we'll both be doing things we love.
And we'll live on a farm,
Just like you always wanted and...
I want to marry you-
I can't imagine myself with anyone else.
But you don't know that.
We'd both laugh if I told you.
So it's better left unsaid.
I can see us staying up late...
Watching kiddie movies and eating chocolate ice cream.
And having candle lit dates on our bedroom floor-
Taco Bell, of course.
And on winter evenings, we'll curl up on the couch...
With hot chocolate...
As I read aloud to you-
From a book of my choice, of course.
But you don't know this...
You'd think I was weird if I told you.
So it's better left unsaid.
And one day we'll pick out a huge chair.
A chair for cuddling.
And when I'm sad-
You'll hold me in our chair...
And we'll both stay real quiet,
Taking each other in.
And eventually we'll start to talk-
Quiet murmurs at first...
How to Make it Through a YearOne day.How to Make it Through a Year6 years ago in Other More Like This
EmptyMy life seems emptyEmpty2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
and I don't know why
My life seems dull
and I wonder why
My mind feels numb
and I can't know why
My mind feels empty
and I now know why
My emotions are gone
and I can't even cry
My emotions are waiting
for when loved ones die
I Might Need YouI think I might need you,I Might Need You2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
But here's the thing:
I'm spinning out of control
And careening off the side of the road.
I pretend to hold on to the wheel,
But we both know I'll crash.
It wasn't a fair fight.
If you would listen,
If you would actually listen,
You would hear me whispering
"I want you."
"I need you."
And if you would listen,
If you would actually listen,
You would know that
We are horribly wrong
For each other,
And that my words mean nothing.
But what's to stop us from
Sharing our sheets anyway?
We sleep folded together
Like slips of origami paper
Pressed so tightly that
We could not possibly split.
I think I might need you,
But here's the thing:
I really wish I didn't.
I wish it was you,
And not me.
For a man diesBreathe Slowly,For a man dies2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
For a Man dies every second, locked in the grip of the sky.
Walk with every step in mind,
Every twitch of a finger,
Every sound, from your head to the ground,
Keep them in mind.
For a man dies every second, the beginning of an eternal dance with the one in the heavens.
Remember every follicle of hair,
Every eye that stares, every moment of fear,
An evil glare, remember it all.
For a man dies every second, and a child cries for his death.
Live today like you'll wither the next,
For we too, can be locked in the reaper's grip.
Society.Society is the cruelest of people.Society.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
She praises those who are familiar with her sisters, wealth and fame.
But she puts down those who are close to her brothers, Shame and poverty.
She makes the brave and strong into the poor and lame with her silver tongue.
Her laugh hurts the souls of what she calls "Lower class." as she laughs with her favored "Upper class".
Her smile startles the lower class, they ask "Why must you look at me so?" And she sarcastically replies "No reason."
She is a tyrant in a easily manipulated world, who can only be stopped by her elders, war and death.
DifferencesIt's disturbingly surprising when you expect something to be different, but it's not. When you walk into a building whose every brick is imprinted in your memory from years of tracing patterns in the cracks, and expect something to have changed - new window, maybe, or perhaps a sea of unfamiliar faces - and yet, everything is the same. So much has changed inside of you; why hasn't all that change touched even a single leaf outside?Differences2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
That freckled boy with the flaming hair? Still there, though a little taller now. That wrinkled lady whose head is forever tilted at a 45 degree angle to the left? Still sitting there in her same place. The child whom you're sure will grow up to be the next Beyonce, she's just got that attitude and fashion sense? Still blowing you out the water with her stylish getup, compared to your simple black dress.
You wonder if any of them noticed that you left, disappeared off to a land that is nothing but blurred images on a TV screen to them. That you were go
BrokenHave you eaten, child?Broken5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
No my love, it's too soon.
Have you water?
No my love, I drank it all
in the night.
I would keep near while you
refill your cup.
I can wait. I don't want the
water while you are here.
I should leave so you
will get your rest.
I will not rest if you go, for
I am broken with desire.
I will stop loving you.
I will go on loving you,
I always have.
SH: The Best Gifts Are FreeSH: The Best Gifts Are Free3 years ago in Romance More Like This
The Best Gifts Are Free
"I've got something for you."
"I know." Sherlock broke his moody stare at the opposite wall to watch John settle beside him on the sofa. "You've been anxious about it for several days. I don't want anything for Christmas, and I've already told you-,"
"And you hate repeating yourself, yes." John dropped the small plainly-wrapped box in Sherlock's lap defiantly. "And I don't give a fig what you don't want. It's special. It comes with an explanation, so could you be still for five minutes?" He shifted restlessly as Sherlock shook the box, muttering to himself. "Just open it."
"Fine." Sherlock sniffed haughtily, obviously miffed that he hadn't been able to declare the contents. He carefully tore at the edges of the paper and creaked the tiny lid open. John relished the subtle perplexed frown as Sherlock held up the bullet, turning it over in his thin fingers.
"Used; some time ago, several years at least. It's a-,"
Please (Don't) Hate MeIf I told you a liePlease (Don't) Hate Me2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
But it made you smile
Would it still be a sin?
If I opened the door
But turned you away
Would you still come in?
If I sliced my skin
But it didn't hurt
Would it still be wrong?
If I acted all brave
But couldn't face it
Would I still be strong?
If I tied my noose
Around a tree's open arms
Would it be an embrace?
If I left tonight
And begged you stay
Would you still give chase?
If I committed sin
But hurt nobody
Would I be welcome above?
If I do something you hate
But only for your good
Could it still be true love?
Deductions of AffectionsWhen John opens the door to his flat, he isn't sure what to expect. Living with Sherlock Holmes has taught the ex-soldier to always be on his toes.Deductions of Affections3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
So when he opens the door, bags of groceries in each arm, he checks to see if any new bullet wounds have been inflicted on the wall, or if any new experiments are being brewed in the kitchen. He sees no recently made holes and hears no noises coming from the direction of the kitchen. He raises a pale eyebrow in confusion and then his eyes fall on the consulting detective curled up on his side, his front facing the couch. He groans softly, knowing that the lanky male is going through one of his 'phases' again. "Sherlock I'm home," he says, trying to alert the other of his presence. His flatmate grunts softly in acknowledgement and continues to stare unblinking at the brown couch. He makes small patterns in the fabric with the nail of his index finger, a calculating look in his pale eyes. John wonders curiously if he's moved since he left. Th
Stream of Consciousness Rant 1wine glassStream of Consciousness Rant 15 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
out of hand
close the wall
close your mind
out of code
a la mode
in the net
by the way
on the beach
lost on cue
in the mouth
in your glove
got your way
SH: Learning With Sherlock Pt2SH: Learning With Sherlock Pt23 years ago in Romance More Like This
Learning With Sherlock Part 2
John knew he looked like a hopeless tourist, standing in the middle of the grand lobby and gawking in a slow circle, but he was content to simply stare while Sherlock strode up to the desk and demanded one of the receptionist's attention. The chandeliers were most definitely real crystal, sparkling with a thousand pinpoints of light overhead. The plushy furniture was arranged neatly around polished tables, resting atop the most gorgeous fur rugs John had seen in or outside of a magazine.
He felt dirty, with the faint scent of the earlier nastiness eroding off his three year old sweater and his scuffed shoes and his trousers with one defunct pocket. Sherlock, of course, looked perfectly at home in the posh setting with his tailored clothes and impatient demeanor.
Suddenly he wasn't very sure of why Sherlock wanted all this- wanted him.
Before he could sink further into that depressing thought, a hand on his a
A Battle of Extremes(MR. CYNICISM, MS. SINCERE, and DR. PASSION congregate for battle.)DR. PASSIONA Battle of Extremes2 years ago in Comedy More Like This
Where's all the booze, guys? Where's the music? I thought this was supposed to be a party.
This is a battle, not a party, good doctor. You may want to remove your lamp shade so you can be prepared to fight.
I didn't hear anything about no violence at this here get-together-battle-party-what-have-you.
That is the definition of battle: Where two or more parties come together and -
- come together and make a whole lot of excitement between them. See? That's what I'm saying.
I should have anticipated such a gross misinterpretation of the facts, given your appalling track record with regard to such things as facts.
I'm sure it was an honest mistake, a result of a miscommunication. We can all be friends still, right?
Aside from the battle, of course.
I wouldn't have it any other way.<
The Case of the ShiversJohn cautiously watched Sherlock from where he was crouched by the frozen riverbank. The detective had spied something on the icy surface of the water, declared it to be important to the case, and had taken off before John could warn him against it. John, knowing better than to tempt the fates with both of their weights combined on the ice, stayed at the edge of the river and contented himself with shouting warnings at Sherlock, who brushed him off with unparalleled skill.The Case of the Shivers3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
John turned his attention to the ice itself. He gently prodded the ice before him. It was rough, covered with ice crystals, and thick here, at the edge. However, that said nothing about the ice that Sherlock was currently standing on. Out in the middle of the river, the cold water underneath was bound to be rushing against it and keeping it from thickening. John worried his lip with his teeth as he looked out at the ice underneath Sherlock, hoping that the ice was thicker than it seemed, knowing that he was probably
SH: Too CloseSH: Too Close3 years ago in Drama More Like This
References the episode The Reichenbach Fall
It wasn't the clatter of metal or the elevated beeping that woke John from his impromptu nap on the hospital bed. Those noises were commonplace; ingrained in his memory and flagged as only semi-important- not nearly important enough to raise consciousness.
Sherlock's soft grunt of pain had his senses on full alert immediately, however. His head jerked upwards so quickly he felt his neck pop, reaching over to soothe his friend even before he was fully awake.
"Shh, no it's fine, it's- Sherlock?" John shook his head, frowning as Sherlock pawed desperately at the electrocardiograph. "Don't, Sherlock. Don't touch-,"
"Don't want," Sherlock protested, his words nearly lost as they ran together. His normally brusque voice had been addled by the pain medication, though John worried it could also be the concussion.
"Too bad," John replied tiredly as he peeled the ghostly white fingers fr
SoulxMaka Fanfic - Handcuffed"You have GOT to be kidding me!" Maka whined, red faced, and angry. She could already feel the sweat forming on the back of her neck.SoulxMaka Fanfic - Handcuffed4 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Sure, Soul and I have been going out for quite a while now but THIS? You can't be serious
Maka thought, remembering her previous mission from that day. She and Soul had been fighting an enemy and just before they killed it it put some kind of binding spell on them, almost like handcuffs, though you could only see it when Soul and Maka tried to walk away from each other. The handcuffs wouldn't allow their hands more than 5 inches apart.
Maka tried pulling her hand away again, making a white string that was attached to both of their wrist visible for as long as she pulled, which wasn't long since she knew it was useless. Maka turned to Soul then who seemed to be in deep though. When Soul caught her eye he smiled.
"Come on Maka, this isn't so bad. It's kinda cool," he told her, making her heart start to beat so much she feared it might stop. Sh
ReunionIrene stood out on Baker Street. She'd knocked on the door and waited for it to be opened.Reunion3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
She heard John stumbling down the stairs. His limp had returned after Sherlock's fall. The cheerful, happy John, was now always grumpy, depressed, never once smiling. He was very stubborn, always complaining that everyone worried too much about him and he stated that he was fine each and every time. We all knew that wasn't true. John had lost his best friend, maybe they were more than that, Irene had always known that. They were more, although they'd never acknowledge that themselves. She braced herself for John's reaction, John was still under the impression that she was dead, like Mycroft had told him.
Mycroft should've known better. He was a smart man, almost as smart as his younger brother. He should've known that Sherlock wouldn't let her down, that he'd save her. It wasn't entirely fair. She hadn't known that Sherlock was coming for her either. And Mycroft should've known that she'd get out
Reactions Chp 2"Wohoo!" the knock and the call broke through the quiet of the flat.Reactions Chp 23 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
It was mid-morning and they hadn't had a client or case for the past three days. Of course they had their relationship to occupy them; but there really isn't much to be said about that.
Everything remained rather status quo for the two of them, save the fact that they're openly affectionate with each other. Well I say affectionate. John's got the hang of it quite well, using endearments more often than Sherlock's name and giving him multiple quick kisses throughout their day.
Sherlock isn't catching on quite as fast. He thinks the usage of endearments are sentimental and frivolous, or so he says. John however knows better because he sees the small smile that Sherlock can't suppress whenever he ends his sentences with "Love" or "Dear" instead of "Sherlock". But Sherlock refuses to use them on John, which is fine by him.
Sherlock is better on showing affection than saying it and in small ways is beginning to express it
Tell Me SoonTell Me SoonTell Me Soon3 years ago in Romance More Like This
a Johnlock fanfic
John stared at Sherlock from his seat in his armchair, newspaper abandoned on his lap in favour of eyeing the man across the room, who hadn't bothered to change out of his robe despite the late hour.
"Did you just say"
"Yes," Sherlock interrupted him, eyes unwavering boring into John's. "Does that surprise you?"
The possibility of this news surprising John caused Sherlock to be confused. He always had the strangest reactions to the most obvious things, because who wouldn't be surprised when they'd find out Sherlock Holmes was planning on writing a book?
"A bit, yeah," John admitted. He couldn't imagine Sherlock being interested long enough to finish ten pages, or even one. "What's it even going to be about?"
If he were to write about correct grammar use then sure, John could see him finishing thousands of books, but somehow he felt like that wasn't really what Sherlock had meant when he'd told him about his plan. John was very c