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Literature
Hurting : Draco x Reader
The glass smashed into the wall. Draco stepped out the way, watching as the crystal pieces littered the floor behind him. In retaliation he picked up the nearest book and launched at you. The fight had lost meaning, neither of you were intend on truly hurting the other.
“I hate you. I trusted you and you betrayed me. Have you any idea how that feels?” he threw the insult at you. Crimson wine ebbed onto the cream carpet as you lost your grip on the bottle. The empty rolled around the floor spreading the mess. Grey eyes caught glassy (e/c) eyes.
“Like you’re a bloody saint. Tell me how many times you lied to me. You don’t bloody know do you? Don’t you even think about telling me that you were trying to protect me.” Your voice was filled with anger and sadness.
You dropped the book you were preparing to throw at his blonde head. His legs gave out from under him and he hit the floor with a thud, just missing the shattered glass. Draco ran his hands
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Pucca: WYIM Page 151 by LittleKidsin Pucca: WYIM Page 151 :iconlittlekidsin:LittleKidsin 504 76 Pucca TONT Page 11 by LittleKidsin Pucca TONT Page 11 :iconlittlekidsin:LittleKidsin 420 9 Loves Me Not by screwbald Loves Me Not :iconscrewbald:screwbald 2,743 291
Literature
to be a waste of grey matter with no self-esteem
forgive these
rorschach nerves &
mercury veins -
i am no tragedy boy,
but i have self-decay
down to an art.
this tar tongue only starts
marlboro conversations &
self-ignition;
i only start fires.
:iconcounting-vertebrae:counting-vertebrae
:iconcounting-vertebrae:counting-vertebrae 209 54
Melody in the Rain by hart-coco Melody in the Rain :iconhart-coco:hart-coco 582 75
Literature
i can't keep walking on these dry-rot bones
oh, i am not a poet;
like the ink scratches
of plath, i am
a diamond-dreamer
straw-stitched
specter boy: decay,
dispose, & disappoint
because this is the way
that writers wane -
(this hangman head is no
survivor story, & gods
do not burn out
in supernovas)
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Commission: Karrah by Zippora Commission: Karrah :iconzippora:Zippora 711 18 Lost Memories by WildSpiritWolf Lost Memories :iconwildspiritwolf:WildSpiritWolf 898 65 NIGHTMARE by Archie-The-RedCat NIGHTMARE :iconarchie-the-redcat:Archie-The-RedCat 1,401 76 KorrAsami-Found by joehnna KorrAsami-Found :iconjoehnna:joehnna 580 95 Ichiruki: Mugetsu by luculentquark Ichiruki: Mugetsu :iconluculentquark:luculentquark 995 95
Literature
fall in love with (splitting hairline fractures)
we swallow blues instead
of talking them out. oh,
kids like us are specters,
spectacles: boys counting
rib(cage)s & (de)composing
     don't you hate
         (this body)
             is a vessel
we're deities or tomb-raiders; no
in-betweens for writers these days
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'Why... by DolphyDolphiana 'Why... :icondolphydolphiana:DolphyDolphiana 1,585 251
Literature
i'm a paradigm of self-destruction
snap your marlboro bones &
grind them into watercolors -
bay-water boy, paint your brains
on the wallpaper like a sinner's
sermon; you won't wilt the way
that deities do, you solipsist:
you're just a suicide drone.
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:iconcounting-vertebrae:counting-vertebrae 48 14
Literature
i'm only worth my weight in words
your gaunt little saturn-boy,
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)
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how to make a zuko by Amanecer how to make a zuko :iconamanecer:Amanecer 468 67 Wistful by creylune Wistful :iconcreylune:creylune 984 135
Literature
Mavis/Johnny - Trouble in Paradise
The sunbeams glowed pink and purple as the sun itself dipped just below the horizon. Mavis lowered her parasol and admired the view. Palm trees blew softly in the wind and sand glimmered white between their toes. Johnny had given her her dream. Finally, after all these months of travel, they had made it. Hawaii.
"Johnny?"
"Mmm-hmm?" he nuzzled into her shoulder.
"I have something I want to ask you."
He sat up straight, disconnecting from her physically so that he could look at her, but keeping his fingers tight around her own. "Yeah?"
"We've been together for a long time. Through thick and thin, we've had our struggles, but somehow they only made us stronger."
He squeezed her hand and smiled. "Yeah?"
"You mean more to me than anyone in the world. You're my zing, my soulmate, and I want to spend every day together for as long as we possibly can."
She slid off of the log they were sitting on and into the sand, bending down on one knee, never letting go of his hand. "Jonathan, will you ma
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Why... Base by PunkPixels Why... Base :iconpunkpixels:PunkPixels 849 86 How To Be Popular On DevArt by shinga How To Be Popular On DevArt :iconshinga:shinga 4,356 1,967
Literature
confess, like there's blood pouring out your mouth
fear is licking at this
cobwebbed mind & i
feel cinematic; like a
steam-powered poet,
i'll write myself into a
misanthropic migraine
& outline cinder bones
to match - ingenue,
you are an esoteric's
nightscape & i, your
morning's fever burns.
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:iconcounting-vertebrae:counting-vertebrae 43 12
Super Soaker by Lushminda Super Soaker :iconlushminda:Lushminda 334 31 Nvr ur gf by Lushminda Nvr ur gf :iconlushminda:Lushminda 344 38
Literature
marlboro kids don't burn out the way cigarettes do
oh, the cynic weaves his saltwater
words like a dichotomist; he's more
of an executioner. menthol-misanthropic
& so self-referential, his galaxy pages
are always meant to crucify.
(doesn't he know, the blackthorn boy,
that his pens are a casket?)
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Sailor Emo Knife 8 by SenshiStock Sailor Emo Knife 8 :iconsenshistock:SenshiStock 194 19
Literature
Please (Don't) Hate Me
If I told you a lie
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?
:iconCorporateRockWhore:CorporateRockWhore
:iconcorporaterockwhore:CorporateRockWhore 135 53
Literature
the writers were ice-pick lobotomists
we made a temple out of
layered bones - fit them
together with grey matter.
poet kids, we were waning,
wasting, rotting out our
teeth. heavy hangmen
hammered nails into our
skulls; we were scrawling
ourselves blade-thin
& smog-weary.
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Literature
blowing my teeth out the back of my skull
I.
we are hynagogic wasteland words, unraveling
corpses clutching at bruised throats - white gasoline
II.
and when your skin heals, i hope i've permeated your bones
( i will never be rid of you ).
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...Before the storm... by Radittz ...Before the storm... :iconradittz:Radittz 584 84
Literature
between my vertebrae, you are (cemeterial)
oh, these writers never speak; they
claw words out of bird carcasses,
poets pecking viscera like necropolitans.
they count their ribs to remind you
of a corpse or of a matchstick. dry bones
between fissured wrists & funeral pyres,
these have been dying days &
they're all mortuaries.
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:iconcounting-vertebrae:counting-vertebrae 57 18
Literature
writers filter out their lungs with lighter fluid
a briny blackthorn boy, i
am rotting, reinfected -
a skeleton's blooming from
underneath my skin; she's
between my collar bones,
she's inside my jaw, she -
she is vile, the way all necromancers are
(but god, am i envious).
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Star Eater by ALRadeck Star Eater :iconalradeck:ALRadeck 802 21
Literature
Your Guardian Angel [France x Reader]
"I hate the way they talk about you." (Name) locked eyes with the Frenchman, her gaze unwavering and fixated completely on him. "I hate the way they look at you. They don't know you like I know you. They all just need to learn their place and shut up. Why don't you ever tell them off, Francis?"
Francis Bonnefois merely smiled softly and shrugged, his crystalline blue eyes not quite looking into the (h/c) haired young woman's own (e/c) ones.
"Because I do not see the need to, mon amour. I don't exactly mind, you see. Let them think what they want. As long as I have you, everything is perfectly fine to me."
(Name) petulantly crossed her arms and glowered, her lips curling into a semblance of a snarl as her eyes wandered to the group of girls that were all huddled together, looking at the handsome blonde man and his companion in a not-so-inconspicuous manner. They were whispering non-too quietly, and their snide voices drifted over to the two on a light breeze.
"He's such a player…
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:iconlupus-astra:lupus-astra 216 96
Literature
you talk like a travesty
oh, mercury boy, you can't
write your way out of this
body or out of this mind;
you can pray like it's high-fashion,
insist you're only burning yourself out
(but tell me - do you feel like a god yet?)
if only for murky mirrors &
silver cicadas caught
in your ribcage, you've
got a knack for decaying
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Goodbyes are painful... by Syllirium Goodbyes are painful... :iconsyllirium:Syllirium 371 22
Literature
all we ever do is decay
I.
nobody falls in love with saturn,
but everyone, her rings.
II.
this disjointed skull is a smirking
mirror bending back reflections.
this disjointed skull is a sleep-smoker.
III.
you were a utopian seven lives ago,
but nobody lives in this body anymore.
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:iconcounting-vertebrae:counting-vertebrae 46 18
Literature
She's breathing again.
1. She spoke of the way his spine curved perfectly, the way his skin hugged his body so tightly no bone was left unaccounted for. If she believed in God, this boy would be the answer to her prayers, but she lost faith in the products of man's imagination long ago.
i. The first gift he gave her was a pendant that symbolized fertility, and it was the first time something of material value brought her comfort. She wore the necklace just above her chest, because nothing could get in the way of him finding his place in her heart.
2. He was the man she had always hoped for, ever since her childhood days of imagining friends and creating worlds where they could live in peace. This world wasn't meant to be her playground, and she knows the people in it will never bring her peace.
ii. She spent every day designing their future together. The walls of their bedroom would be a pale yellow to suit the boy's tastes, and the first token of his love would still be around her neck, clinging to the
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Literature
Write about something else
I thought I'd write a poem today
about something shiny and gay
Then I thought I'd write a poem tomorrow
and each line would rhyme with "sad" and "sorrow".
I thought I'd write a poem for you,
about roses red and violets blue.
I thought I'd write a poem today,
about my ex- with cursing and rage.
I thought I'd write a poem about
clouds and sadness and anger and doubt
I thought I'd write a poem including
happiness and love and joyful hooting
I guess I'm writing a poem involving
my poetry enhanced, evolving,
I guess I wrote a poem to show
Life ain't always sun or snow.
I sat down and wrote a poem today
To show that life isn't always gay.
I sat down and wrote a poem on a pad
about how life isn't always sad.
:iconStrawberryR:StrawberryR
:iconstrawberryr:StrawberryR 44 15
Let me die by Chiakiro Let me die :iconchiakiro:Chiakiro 650 57
Literature
Red Screams
Smiling at me, shiny silver teeth
Begging my wrist
For one chaste
Kiss.
Grinning at me, that evil smirk
Making my heart pound
Going berserk.
So sharp so
Good
I know I
Could
And really I
Would
Because I
Should.
Arm’s too full of blood
Of scars
From attempts to
Join the stars.
Photo album of
Ruby caresses
My diary of my
Crimson lament
Showing one
Statement;
I am still
Alive.
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Literature
leaves greedy teeth tasting selenic
you may be a corpse-reaper
but even gods will decompose &
what's dysphoric transit
without cyanosis bones?
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Literature
Baby Mine
"Please calm down! Just keep breathing, you'll be fine."
But Itachi knew that she would not be fine. She was being ripped apart just then, torn in two, no matter how 'natural' the doctor claimed this experience was. No amount of mental or physical ninja training had prepared her for anything even close to this kind of torture.
There were very few instances wherein Itachi had shed tears. When she was two years old, and she had fallen down the steps to her porch was one, and a few other times when she was young and naive, barely old enough to form complete sentences. Those times she had cried for such silly reasons.
But now, at the age of fifteen, in a hospital inside of the Tea Country, Itachi threw her head back into the stiff pillow that had been presented to her and sobbed her heart out. She wailed and cried, and begged for everything to end. Sharp pains crippled her ability to form words, and she yelped in misery instead, clawing desperately at the sheets beneath herse
:iconSongstone:Songstone
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Literature
i am no god-made man
oh, you're so pathetic,
with your parasitic nervousness;
you're an anxious fever-boned boy
& you've got manic headaches
scrawled into gasoline anthems
like you don't know love's
only parasympathetic &
we're all romanticists
(you may have smoke-spiral fingertips, but
we've all got a knack for burning ourselves out).
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Literature
Ask Me
Ask me a question.
Ask me if this was a choice,
this life that I live.
Ask me if I want
your prejudice and hatred;
to be excluded
simply because of
the people I choose to love.
Despite their gender.
Because now I want
to ask something of my own.
Simply I ask why?
Weighted silence falls
as you scramble for a thought
to try and change me.
For how can you spin
a web of twisted untruths
to weave me anew?
And simply I ask
why? Why would you even try?
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:iconr-epertoire:r-epertoire 41 27
Literature
like catching supernovas in a plastic cup
delirium boy, you're
no cavalry drum-beat
heart; disjointed, but
no lady lazarus,
no gold tongue &
you've never been
hallowed.
:iconcounting-vertebrae:counting-vertebrae
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You Can't Hold In Pain Forever by TheBoyofCheese You Can't Hold In Pain Forever :icontheboyofcheese:TheBoyofCheese 411 167
Literature
solipsism
i am the prince of
phantom pains & mediocrity -
a carbon copy, chlorinated
grey matter deity
of flickering cities &
burning mercury into my wrists
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:iconcounting-vertebrae:counting-vertebrae 33 13
Literature
like demigod preachers for the already damned
these scapegallow cynics &
stygian sermon speakers -
they're all histrionics & sinners,
they're all purgatory dwellers
asking:
oh, hades, are you supernova dreamers?
'cause the poets are all dead-end kids.
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