Frozen: The Icebound ProphecyFrozen: The Icebound Prophecy2 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
A princess with powers over the Cold.
a power from ancestors centuries old
When she ascends to be Queen of the kingdom,
her frosty power will unleash something fearsome.
Winter eternal will change the land's form.
Frost and snow will spread in the storm.
The curse of the Cold can be broken
by love long hidden and never spoken.
Living a LieLiving a Lie:Living a Lie4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I feel like I've awakened from a comatose state
And the world has gone on without me.
I stretch my legs and take a walk outside
And for the very first time I see:
A strange kind of beauty, that is utterly alluring
It calls out to my spirit with the gentlest of cries.
I'm afraid to admit, for it was rather unmanly,
That I left with tears in my eyes...
I can't imagine how I could have forgotten
The very way that I used to walk...
I remember now my habitual actions
And I've even learned to talk!
"Arrr me hearties, good day to ya all
It be a fine day ta sail on tha sea
And if we find a plethora o' treasure;
Then yer drinks are all on me!"
I must admit it that brought me a smile
To be speaking my native brogue.
It reminded me that a dashing man
Should always be a playful rouge.
But that aside I'm feeling better
For now my mind has found its peace.
A comforting sense of order and structure
It's almost as rare as the golden fleece.
Within this sphere
Dear Poetry,You will find out that I am not a strong person. Dragons do not make a home beneath my skin to hoard their treasured princesses. I am not that lucky. For I have misplaced collarbones just as quickly as I’ve misplaced hearts, a pulse still rhythmic against my fingertips. I am a monster of words, devouring Cummings and Plath with no ounce of self control left in my body. I promised myself this weight would not fall for the sharp edges of stars ground into your knuckles. But, write air into my lungs, poetry. Give this wild thing a reason to learn the definition of tamed.Dear Poetry,3 years ago in Letters More Like This
Write me a poem, and I will promise to fall in love with you, slowly and then…all at once.
i'd call it love, if it wasn't suffocating.every time it rains,i'd call it love, if it wasn't suffocating.4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i think of you.
because that's all there is--
and a quick breath of air
before we all go under.
every time it rains,
i swear i'm drowning.
on leaving it behindi stillon leaving it behind4 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
this might appall you
or agonize you but i do.
i remember still evenings
with little to exchange besides
heartbeats and breathing patterns.
i remember soft afternoons
with my back raking against the carpet
leaving sporadic scars and stitches of memory.
i remember dark roads, and darker rains.
i remember a longer faith and a shorter pain.
the wounds are not as fresh, they do not sting,
but they ache and the few times i hear your voice
wedges your fingers in my brain and i can feel the cake
of neglected cum stains and i can hear the desperation in
the small whimper of my name and the way it was hard for your
breath to escape and my mind is running on thin rails, paper train,
and all i ever wanted from you was a home, not a place.
you would finger fuck me in the movie theater
and i would squirm and you would laugh because
i am not so good at keeping quiet. and all it would take
was a look from me or my hand up your knee or my lip under my
teeth and your eyes would
Warmth - drabble“Stormfly, still,” Astrid commanded. The Nadder’s fidgeting barely halted but her rider still managed to get one of the three saddle straps undone.Warmth - drabble3 years ago in Romance More Like This
“Hey,” Astrid called out as she worked. “Let’s check out the Ice Gorges next time. I hear there are some edible wild berries in those parts. We’ve pretty much exhausted all of Berk’s by now…”
She kept her focus on maneuvering around the next set of buckles, even as Hiccup’s voice rose to respond from the other side of his dragon.
“I thought you said it was too close to Villainy?”
Astrid’s shrugged. ”Eh, I wasn’t sure you could keep up before. I think we can give it a go next time we’re in the area.”
There was a pause and then, slow and uncertain, Hiccup repeated her words.
“You weren’t sure I could keep up?”
Astrid bit her lip to keep from smiling. His voice always dipped in
we're all made of stories.We're all either made of cells or stories, but in your case, it's both. You're somehow bigger than what one body can contain. And I know that all of this all these words and breaths and spaces aren't enough to explain you. You're better than any fiction will ever be.we're all made of stories.4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I remember sitting in the passenger seat of your car, watching the familiar city streets flick by, fast like a picture book. It felt like there was something I was missing between the pages and second story houses, but I couldn't place it. I had my arms wrapped tight around my middle, holding my insides in since I was afraid with every passing moment I would let their contents spill. You wouldn't look at me, but you kept talking. For the first time ever, I wished you would stop. You were telling me that you could never love me and I was completely aware that I had already foolishly followed you in too deep and now you were letting me know that you had been drowning for years. You were promising to take me und
these oceanic arteries are killing me.i'm drawn to the ocean in a way that's anything but beautiful. i don't want a welcome embrace, i just want it to consume me. 'cause the ocean is so heavy and right now i'm so fucking fragile.these oceanic arteries are killing me.4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
so i'll stand waist deep with the water curling tightly around me, lulling me further from the shore with the safe sung whispers of the wind as i let the waves crash into me. so that with each ebb and flow, piece by piece, the ocean can wash me away from you.
i can see myself crumbling away like the cliffs that surround the peaceful waters, and i wonder if your as fragile as i am right now. my breathing patterns have changed, as i don't want to be anything like you at all ever again.
it's not anything i'm proud of -- the way our worlds shifted and turned and collided to make the currents wash up on these shores with each of us standing at opposite ends of this expanse of water with no hope, no reason, no love, but it's the way things turned out. and now i should know better than to change everythi
bird songi told myself i'd never compare the two of youbird song4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
but his eyes are so much brighter
if we still talked i'd tell you, i'm happy now,
in the saddest of ways but i am happy now,
i would say, momentarily, warily,
but somehow i would.
just don't you tell me, you're happy too.
Accursed WombYao's hands are bleeding.Accursed Womb5 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
They are cracked, and he stares at them, enchantedhe does not lift his eyes, as the shouting begins and the halberd is pointed; more shouting, and he finally gazes upward to see the tyrant run through; his eyes watch as Dong Zhuo thumps down, squirting blood, squeezing through robes and fat.
The cheer goes upthe tyrant, who has pillaged villages and defiled women, ceaselessly, ceaselessly, is gone and done for.
Yao takes action then, as Dong Zhuo's foster son and murderer Lu Bu raises his headYao moves, unsheathing his jian and twirling it to feel it, storming after the others as the tyrant's home is cracked open to the air, as the tyrant's venerable mother cries that she knew this would be so
There is a child. Yao cuts it down before turning back to the dowager. This is not the first time he has done this, and so he is used to this. He grits his teeth, still.
Despite his numbness towards this scene, the child's screams pierce his heart
[untitled]she'll sit alone in her room[untitled]4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
imagining through closed curtains
a world where she could
shed her worries like socks in summer.
she'll sit alone in her room
her head's on a shoulder
she's held in her arms.
"i love you. i love you."
"you don't have to be alone."
the last poem i will ever write for you.last springthe last poem i will ever write for you.4 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
(after almost a year)
you lost me when
you fell into a venus fly trap.
there was even a sign saying
'THIS IS NOT A VENUS FLY TRAP'
and i believed it. i am so
sorry. you are a rose.
and what you couldn't say,
you spoke with your blood-shot
eyes leaking blood-clear tears
and i believed you because
you meant it.
i painted you turtles.
you pulled my hair.
we wasted gas and blew money on cigarettes.
we fucked like we breathed- erratic,
and savored. you held small
secrets that only i knew. we
promised to get married and
hump each other senseless.
we went hiking
and before we left
you had to have me on
your living room floor.
i had not seen you in a week
and all the messes we made were
cleansed in a semen-salty bath.
on the mountain-
we stopped at every bench for a
cigarette because we were out of
breath. we never made much sense in
the first place and i went down on you in the wilderness
because at that altitude you have to go down
somewhere. you hel
winter always reminds me of you.It never snowed last December, but it was always there on the horizon. Like a bad dream on the periphery of my vision, a relentless reminder that I don't ever have control over things the way I think I do. The way I want to. Recently, I realized that I feel everything a bit too sharply. The cold. The pain. The nothingness.winter always reminds me of you.4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
It's heart wrenching. It's stomach twisting.
The minute you were gone, the air in my lungs left too. It's amazing how long you can live without breathing. It's much longer than anyone tends to claim. Truthfully, it's not even the thing I miss anymore. I only miss you. I miss the feelings. I miss anything that isn't the slow crack and settle of this old building. Or the familiar beating of my heart. The sun rising and falling from the sky each and every day.
I don't remember what it's like to not wake up to a pattern, but I do remember that it was so much better than this.
I used to never know what to expect. Now I have no expectations at all. It didn't take me long t
Peter Panxx - o1 - xxxxPeter Pan8 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
He's dirty. Filthy clothes, filthy habits, filthy manners. I can see the grime beneath his fingernails when he walks, when he speaks; it's all I see. Dirt beneath his fingernails. I wonder who he really is.
There is nothing nice about him. Nothing to like about him. His voice is rough, his hair is matted. He never takes care of himself because no one tells him he's worth it. Everyone is worth it. But no one tells him. No one.
xx - o2 - xxxx
A ribbon is braided into his hair. Blue, like his eyes, like mine. I don't ask about it, I won't. Still no one tells him he is better than he thinks. Better than they think. Better than I think.
There's still dirt beneath his fingernails.
xx - o3 - xxxx
I realize he likes trees. This will continue to prove problematic for some time.
xx - o4 - xxxx
He seems to be clever. Completely uneducated, but intelligent. I can't reason with him, I can't philosophize with him, but I can feel for him. I can reach him. I read the pain in his eyes be
this week1. sometimes when i draw his eyes follow me, and even whilethis week4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in the dark they wrap me
with affection, desperate for a contouring god
to lay him on his back and define him where
he has molded
2. he tells me i was better off an
confession to my most preciousyou're beautifulconfession to my most precious5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you're a drop of perfection
you're so worthwhile and deserve only the best in life
and I can't promise you'll get it
but I can say you deserve it.
mapping the ache.She learned anatomy when he broke her heart. She liked how she could track the stinging, burning pain as it delved deeper into her. Starting in her throat, a heavy lump that wouldn't move anymore than a cm a day. it would travel through her veins, like back lanes, leaving behind big clouds of exhaust fumes that make her skin tarnish, and her blood thicken. the pain, gets a little stronger. moves a little further. with her bones structure mapped and blown up on the wall across from her bed, she woke up each morning, and closed her eyes. she sat quiet and still with breath held, trying to pinpoint the pain. she'd trace the wall and place a small gold star where is had reached that day. it was quite beautiful really. this skeletal system, scattered with little stars. her own constellation.mapping the ache.4 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
it was a realisation that everything can be traced back to her heart. it beats and bleeds and aches and yearns and everything it feels is shot through your synapses and
Skinny Wordslook:Skinny Words4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
he was winterish blue eyes and an autumn scarf dressed in an stupid pink summer sweater that made no sense on a spring day. His shoes were converse, the kind of the skinny intellectual who had just enough money to buy one pair of decent shoes. she never really liked skinny intellectuals, yet did find herself considering them sometimes, in the way she considered coffee that was tongue scalding (horribly and without excuse).
it is odd then, that she still doesn't regret his monsoon flavoured kiss, the kind that made your tongue bleed with its passion, its heat.
he drew in uneasy catches of breath as he snored in the heat of the summer night, nights when she would stay up and listen to cars that passed by, pretending they were a waterfall instead of the cold harsh truth of metal against concrete, just so she could sleep as soundly as him.
she took his breathing for granted.
he spent hours lost in the dry unending silence of his typewriter, of h
on an envelopewhy do my d's and l's look like yours when i write your name?on an envelope4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
it's just been a little carousel,
spinning in pirouettes,
in my mind all day.
all i know is i'm glad i don't love you.
i don't know why you aren't relationship material-
in all honesty, you are.
i don't know why you treat me like your girlfriend-
kissing my forehead,
holding me gently,
touching me sweetly,
asking to see me,
sixty miles out of the way
in a city i can fall in love,
with no promise of sex-
all i know is i'm glad i don't love you,
& i hope it stays.
born to dieit has been a yearborn to die4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
since you have made me cry
always being second
eats at your bones
and low standards
lead me nowhere
your bones are rivers.timing never was my strong point.your bones are rivers.4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and all it took was one more knock
to break open the damn and leave me
shaking and shivering as the oceans
flowed and flooded.
a fractured collarbone can kill you.
i already knew i was dying when the tide
came in and laid on my shoulders and
that tiny sliver of bone departed,
coarse, right through my vein.
i held my breath, and i could feel it
a tiny vessel in my veins, my stream
although i was unsure of its course
i knew that it would surely be the
bringer of my body's winter.
it scraped and all i could think was
the water was perfect for a swim.
i imagined that ort of death was you,
planning my demise
how i knew you always wanted to.
i held my head beneath the surface
and i felt light and airy and free
something you never knew of with
your charcoal bones and heavy heavy heart
i will defeat your ghost somehow
you don't know this but
i've been thinking more recently than before
and i figure you can't really haunt me if i'm
haunting you. you can't reall
yoursi am moreyours4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
of my bones.
of my spine,
on my skin.
in your throat,
of your hands.
i am what lies
beyond the hike
of my skirt,
of my jeans,
the gossamer sheen
of my shirt-
this isn't progress, because you're irreversible.You were never meant for me.this isn't progress, because you're irreversible.4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I knew it in the most obvious manner. It was in the way you had a subtle sort of comfort in your own skin a quiet and humble confidence while I struggled to make sense of the prints on my fingertips and the way one of my eyes crinkled in the corner more than the other when I smiled. You felt safe with yourself while I was always warring with my own reflection. Half the time, I didn't know who I was. A quarter of the time, I still don't. You would call this progress if you were here to see, but I just call it sad.
When you miss something for long enough, you start to forget the exact way that things happened. Or the exact way they happened to fall apart. For instance, I don't remember the first time you didn't call, but I do remember when you told me you loved me but not enough. It's never enough, is it? The point is you were gone before I could even say goodbye. You were gone before you were ever really here, but somehow I let myself bu