Chubby!Romano X Reader - Lovi and CreamChubby!Romano X Reader Lovino and CreamChubby!Romano X Reader - Lovi and Cream2 years ago in Romance More Like This
On sweet warm days you would often find the lazy Italian boy lounging somewhere in the olive groves, avoiding working and snacking on ripe tomatoes. His hair was the loveliest shade of auburn, his eyes glimmered yellow green, and his skin was perfectly tanned. Every time you thought about him he seemed no more than a dream, a fantasy. Every time you talked to him, the fantasy was completely shattered.
Hey! Lovino! You had spent a long morning in the kitchen working like a slave, you were tired and still had more than a half a day left. Romano was just another daily chore; you were employed by his parents to cook, clean, and look after Lovi. Although he was your age, Romano was rude and clumsily; he acted like a spoiled child. His parents thought that he needed extra care and honestly, you had to agree.
Again you found him sitting at the base of an olive tree in his normal tan attire. He was supposed to be working on charcoal sk
.and this beating in my chest.1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
might just be the banging of someone
trying to break free.
august.they say thataugust.7 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
but what really
destroys all these
brilliant young hearts
are those boys and
girls who make
pretty shirts and
slick ties out of our
to goodbyespicture this:to goodbyes11 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
It's the first rain of the year and
you've been waiting, arms extended like an offering
to catch the dreams falling from the sky
and dripping through your fingertips
or the sun has finally faded Spring to yellow,
there is light from the pollen that dances like confetti
in the air, celebrating the survival of another
or it's a Sunday, any sunday;
time has stopped its beating heart, here
the seconds matter not, only the feelings
frozen in space like tiny specks of life
and god, do you remember how we were alive?
the present is just another gift we will not love until
it is already gone, everyone on this planet is stuck
loving something that will never love them back
and how long does it take before a sacred memory
becomes a broken promise?
sometimes I wonder if we'll ever find what we are looking for
loneliness is the name we give to our fragile bones
we are skeletons of the past
you were a casket I wasn't ready to be buried in
There is a matchbox bird living in the
Get Lost"Get lost," they said vindictively:Get Lost2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A knife stabbed through my soul
And being young and ignorant,
I took these words so cruel
I swam through roaring oceans,
and I trekked the mountains high
I spent time on deserted land
with me, myself, and I
And as I wandered aimlessly
across these untouched places
I realized to get lost,
you must seek a destination
starsi pray that someday soon, in a lonesome winter, your bones will cease to ache.stars2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
regrets will no longer break your morals like glass figurines,
you will not ask God to pardon your sins.
you will forgive yourself.
i hope, for your sake, that your butterfly-flutter eyes
will only be dampened with tears worthy of shedding.
your glory will shine out of those 2 crystal windows
and you will finally know what freedom feels like.
one day, in the midst of a dreary december, i wish for your wings to open wide
and carry you to heights far past any you have ever experienced.
your lungs will become blooming forests
with snippets of poetry carved into the tree trunks.
you will no longer be broken, but instead, crack into miniscule pieces
of yourself until all of the grace & goodness
buried deep within the crevices of your flesh
is soaked up by the atmosphere.
i am awaiting the day that i can finally lay next to someone i call lover
and point up at the stars to show him
fragments of you scatte
FootnoteI'm sitting here eatingFootnote2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
buttered toast and the time
you smeared your sandwich
on our vice principal's
breast crosses my mindó
perhaps I should be more serious
on the anniversary of your death
but I just heard word
of a woman being stoned
to bloody pulp for being
and now I see (forgive me)
you dancing with some boy
driving hips into thigh sinking low
until your hair tickles
the floor (this story ends
with his cola trickling down
your white gown) and there I go being funny
forgive me for rambling but these stars
are lovely tonight and I dare say
they might be
beautiful as you (or possibly just
beneath a bed
I just happened on a poem
whose first lines read (greater than poetry
is the rain) and I can only think
you were here
to prove the poet wrong
excuses for why I'm shakingwe live in a world of apologies.excuses for why I'm shaking1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
I made a mistake a year back,
choosing my addiction to oxygen
over less demanding things.
I’m sick of trembling for problems
that aren’t mine and I’m sick of trying
to romanticize black holes and
the indiscriminate nature of lithium and
I’m sick of waking up every morning
feeling sick. and truly, I’m sorry
but I’m not ready to accept my role
in the making of myself. I’m not ready
to lament for those with a smaller
pain tolerance, and for my dislike
of anything that requires commitment.
I’m sorry I miss you and I’m sorry
I won’t admit that out loud.
how scary is it to be something
so unalterably heavy, to be diagnosed
as your own worst enemy, but god,
you’re so fucking beautiful,
and not in the stereotypical boy
meets girl meets fairytale way, but
the kind that makes my heart
bleed a million miles quicker.
I just wanted to cry on all
your scars and wash them clean.
when things are bad for
drinking gamedrinkdrinking game7 months ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
ever since I've been thinking a lot,
I've been spending too much time on the internet,
not enough reading secrets from parchment lips,
see, something sinister happens when the sun falls
asleep, when darkness dances to midnight with the monsters
inside of you
and lately I've been writing too much, or not enough,
or somewhere in between because sometimes letting
your words do the screaming for you just ends up making things louder
when it rains, the insects dig themselves up from the mud
to keep from being washed away,
and lately I've been drinking too much, hoping I can drown
this siren song of lonely
the bottle is a shipwreck sailing in the depths,
the blade is a shovel, a set of cold hands
so you better start digging, the bones are buried deep
it hurts hearing your voice elsewhere;
you were a songbird once and I remember, I'm not sure if you do
but sometimes I hear an echo when I cut the voices
out from underneath my skin,
and we all bleed the sa
APH - Times Like These"Well, it's bloody obvious who the better cook in this household is " England trailed off as the Englishman smugly smirked up at the other man in front of him, none other than his eldest brother Scotland. The two British nations were in the middle of yet another argument, this time over who was the best cook out of the two. Both nations were reputed for being some of the worst cooks in the world, and neither were going to admit that their respective cuisine was the worst of them all. This war had raged for centuries, and they weren't about to call it quits and give up any time soon.APH - Times Like These4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The second youngest, Wales, sat nearby his two brothers in a chair with a rather annoyed expression, his hand resting on his chin as he tiredly but anxiously watched England and Scotland bantering over their infamous culinary skills. He really just wanted them to get over it and make peace for once, but that was never going to happen with the two thick-headed Britons heatedly engaged in their argument.
muteit’s two in the morning somewheremute1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
where it’s quiet except for breathing
that’s loud enough to hear from here.
convince yourself you’re alive;
you’re the only one that can.
here is a game we played as children:
we pretended language was something only
to be seen on paper,
we make-believed the worst injury
we could get was those made by
trees and rocks while our bones weakened
under the attacks we tried to endure
of words like, “fat” (before
we even knew how much we weighed)
or “stupid” (before
we even realized that it
doesn’t matter what 9 times 8 is
as long as no one figures out you don’t know.)
sticks and stones may break our bones
don’t tell me words don’t do any damage.
don’t tell me you don’t think of yourself as a weapon
every time you open your mouth,
don’t tell me what exactly you think of me,
don’t tell me anything, i think you’ve said enough.
let’s just be silent,
now i see the stars.there was a time when inow i see the stars.9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
couldn't catch my breath whenever i
thought about you , (crippled lungs and-
boy, you hit me like an asteroid,
there's a crater on my chest now that I can't ever seem to fill,
oceans of my tears cried on
nights when you couldn't be there to sing me to sleep.
thirty two poemless days after you joined the constellations,
i walked out into the yard and howled to the empty sky,
for a moment i was Gaea, rivers running down my cheeks,
weighted to the ground and
buried in myself, but
where there is no light there are no shadows, and
sometimes, i wonder if i miss me.
yes, yes i do.
i may not see the moon, but
how to start over.1. scrub the vomit off your shoes and leavehow to start over.10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
them to dry—make sure the dog doesn't
pee on them
2. brush your teeth as hard as you can, until
blood leaves patterns on your porcelain sink;
wash your hands until they burn
3. watch that mirror like it's your computer
monitor and you're about to spend hours on
the internet; realize that's your reflection
4. (if you start crying, don't hold it back—let
each tear that falls on your hoodie carry a piece
of that old soul you were getting to know)
5. comb your hair—get it looking just right,
even if it's eleven pm and you're not going
anywhere but your bedroom
6. grab that pen, that extension of yourself, and
try to explain each crack in your stone frame
to the page as eloquently as you can
7. post it online—wait for people to acknowledge
the chips in your face, the off-color paint job on
8. force a smile—one so big it hurts—the japanese
say that pottery is more beautiful for having
been broken, a
i'm only worth my weight in wordsyour gaunt little saturn-boy,i'm only worth my weight in words1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
your venus in blue: he's got
honeybees eating at his mind
& cinder-ash rotting in his teeth;
(oh the kid's just like a cigarette -
the way he's burned himself bone-weary)
nineit's funny how carefulnine1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
we are about
to become a writer.parents divorce before you can talk.to become a writer.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
write about it
like you don't care.
try to mean it.
go through months
of shitty pity-leaking almost-poems
before you get one
that actually makes someone feel
say that it was all a mistake.
only feel like a writer
when you're insecure.
fall in love
with someone. anyone.
that's it's just for fun. just for being
actually love the hell out of them.
mess it up.
write about it.
smoke 2-5 cigarettes every day,
but with the hopes
of saving your lungs for running
(a metaphor? another rule: never tell)
and drink and drink and drink
until you have the courage
to call up ex boyfriends
or lovers or dead friends
to say that you miss them.
write about that-
like you don't care.
everyone knows that you care.
write about that.
The Starbringers prologue PrologueThe Starbringers prologue9 months ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
The young clutch of kitletts crowded around their mother. The day had been long and the night was vastly approaching. The youth were scruffy with their baby fluff- quite the contrast to their mother. She was a beauty in their tribe, and a gentle parent with a great amount of patience under her wing. It wasn’t often that an Owline had more than two eggs in a clutch- but she had been blessed with three happy and healthy children. With a soft wing, she corralled the rowdy bunch closer to her downy fur and into their nest. Nudging them slightly with her beak, the Owline made sure her children were close as she began to settle. The twilight sun was setting, and soon the red moon of Hybris would rise. The children’s small beaks clicked. Night was a dangerous time on their planet- especially in the thick dense woods. Canowls stalked the brush, and the much smaller owlines took shelter high above.
“Momma! I wanna
not all humans go to heavencock itnot all humans go to heaven2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
april 23 2008
“bye mom. i love you so much, i swear
i’ll be home soon.”
“please, you’re only eighteen, you have your
whole life ahead of you, please
don’t throw it away.”
“i’m going, mom. i’m going overseas
but i swear i’ll be back before you
miss me. love you!”
most nights he shakes himself awake
with the vision of bombs and fire and bullets
still imprinted on his eyelids.
he doesn’t know what to call them.
the dreams, i mean.
what do you call bad dreams when
you’ve already lived the nightmare?
his therapist says his problem
is he thinks he’s not normal, that he doesn’t fit,
that he’s a special kind of monster.
she tells him that the key is figuring out the ways
that he’s the same.
so when he’s alone, or worried or stressed
or tired or hurt or wishing he were dead,
he traces over his collarbone and says
I Wasn't Supposed To Be Worth It.Was it worth it?I Wasn't Supposed To Be Worth It.1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Trading the taste of cinnamon on your lips
To smell like cigarettes and a painful hangover.
Was life so cruel to your perfectly skewed smile,
That you had to swallow a bottle of brandy
Every night at 9 pm
To hear yourself laugh again?
How could I have not noticed
The tremor in your right hand
Every time you held a pen?
Was I so blind for the love you had for me to see
That my love was destroying you?
'I am yours.' You whispered when you still had Petrichor surrounding you.
I inhaled your scent like oxygen,
All the while I suffocated you like sulfur.
You gave me your heart on a plate,
And I was the last pill that took your life away from you too.
Mother always told me I broke the things I had
Because that is how I was;
Selfish and undeserving.
I didn't deserve you.
You weren't supposed to be mine.
we're all mad hereOh, cat's got my tongue;we're all mad here8 months ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
it also swallowed my mind,
screaming help me, help—
powerless, and reaching."He's the kind of personpowerless, and reaching.9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
who tells me to 'cheer up'
when I'm depressed,"
he says, scoffing,
and I shake my head
"What a useless comment."
He chuckles, agrees,
but I keep thinking about
about all the "cheer up"s
and "just be happy"s
he's heard in his life.
I want to say "cheer up,"
I want my words to magically
cure him, heal him,
crush his depression
in a way that no pills ever could,
but I know it doesn't work like that.
Happiness is not an item
to be obtained with quarters
it is not a country to travel to
in airplanes and sailboats.
Happiness is a change in the wind,
a flicker from east to west
that cannot be upheld permanently.
For him, it is a road
blocked by people who roll their eyes
and tell him to get over himself.
When I wrap my arms around him,
he laughs again,
sinks into my body.
I think about hollow rooms,
sound echoing off the walls.
happy family.and it would make no differencehappy family.1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
if these walls could
because even they know when
to keep quiet.
a.m./p.m.i put my handsa.m./p.m.1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
in the stars-
feathery hair, cold
skin and cyanosis fed,
i realize that i am
born in neither winter
or spring, crying about
cherry tree spines and
throwing stones, i
was left for the
it is the dawn of
February, and i am so close to
seventeen that i can
taste it; i am
very nearly choking
the sky beckons me most
at 11:49 pm, because
it's hovering between
tomorrow and yesterday--
that destroys me.
i want to burn it to the
the ashes in like cigarettes on
i am stuck here
in a windowless town with
a thousand memories stuck
between my canines;
into the wind, i
drop words like dead
take me home.
things you don't learn in schoolI found a cricketthings you don't learn in school2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
on the roadside, put it
in a mason jar to show the world
and called it by a first name.
He died of loneliness shortly
thereafter and i learned how wretched
it is to be forsaken.
When I was twelve, I watched a boy
slit his wrists with a plastic spork
at lunch, and though I
laughed at the irony, all i kept thinking was
"I really hope he washed his hands."
He bled tears
of scarlet red that looked
just like tomato sauce, but I just stood
there because it was the coolest thing
I'd ever seen.
The boy, he smelled of dirty
laundry and cigarettes and sorrow
and used to sit by the window
until the bell, where he'd wait until everyone
had gone outside to make sure it was safe.
His eyes were the hollowed rings
of Saturn, with freckles
like stars & cosmic bruises
up and down his arms.
If he spoke, it was of distant shores and escape,
and we believed it
when he talked of things like freedom,
hearing the scratch of gravel
roads from within his throat.
I realized one day that I'd nev