Prose - Blog Posts
TAG DROP –– nalini kumar
「 ♡ 」 interactions. ↻ 𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗶𝗄𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗋.
「 ♡ 」 visage. ↻ 𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗶𝗄𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗋.
「 ♡ 」 prose. ↻ 𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗶𝗄𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗋.
「 ♡ 」 headcanons. ↻ 𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗶𝗄𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗋.
「 ♡ 」 edits. ↻ 𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗶𝗄𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗋.
「 ♡ 」 starters. ↻ 𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗶𝗄𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗋.
「 ♡ 」 answered. ↻ 𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗶𝗄𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗋.
「 ♡ 」 task. ↻ 𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗶𝗄𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗋.
「 ♡ 」 ask meme. ↻ 𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗶𝗄𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗋.
Albero di Limone available in Sonder Issue IV
❛ ⅋ 🐇 𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆’𝘀 𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗹𝗲𝗱 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝘁𝗵𝗲 slap , the sting lingering longer than she expected . but it was nothing — nothing — compared to the ache in her chest when she saw that flicker of something in cooper’s eyes . the way he just stood there , took it , like he thought he deserved it . like he was waiting for her to hit him with more than just her palm .
and maybe she wanted to . maybe she wanted to hit him with every moment she’d spent waiting by the mailbox , every half - written letter she never had the nerve to send , every fucking dream where he came back to her only to disappear before she could reach him. her breath was uneven , her fists still curled tight , but she didn't tell him to walk . not yet .
she followed his gaze down to her left hand , to the diamond on her finger. it felt heavier now , suffocating . she could almost hear his thoughts , the bitter realization settling in his throat like glass shards . mary could’ve told him the truth . she could’ve told him that the ring didn’t mean what he thought it did . that it wasn’t love that bound her to another man , but duty , expectation , survival .
but wasn’t it easier this way ? she should have told him to go . should have let that final thread between them snap clean . but instead , she let her tongue dart out over her bottom lip , let the silence stretch until it was almost unbearable , until she felt like she might actually break under the weight of it .
“ you don’t get to do this , cooper . ” her voice was softer than she meant it to be , but there was steel beneath it . “ you don’t get to stand here and act like you had no choice . like i was just supposed to wait forever . ” she swallowed hard , forcing down everything she wanted to say — everything that ached to come out . but his last words hung between them , charged with something dangerous . mary closed her eyes for just a second , as if that would stop her from feeling the way she did . like that girl in her books — the one who always picked the reckless choice , who always let herself fall even when she knew it would end in ruin . her fingers twitched at her sides . her mouth opened . and yet — silence . mary wanted to tell him to leave . she needed to tell him to leave . it was the most logical thing to do , the right thing to do . but her mouth wouldn't form the words . her throat tightened around them like her body understood the truth before her mind would accept it . because the truth was ; after all these years , all the heartbreak and unanswered questions . . . she still loved him .
mary could like to herself and pretend that time had dulled the ache . but her heart was a liar and it betrayed her now , hammering against her ribs . desperate , like it was trying to remind her of everything she had spent years trying to forget . her bear bear . she used to whisper that name into the collar of his jacket when they were tangled up in each other , limbs intertwined , safe in the quiet of their love . she had convinced herself that cooper was her forever , that no matter what , they'd always find their way back to each other . but forever had come and gone . . . and cooper hadn't come back . and when months turned into years ; she had forced herself to accept it . she had learned to breathe through the ache . to pretend . but now here he was , standing in front of her like a ghost from a story she swore she'd never read again . like a wound ripped open just when she thought she had healed .
cooper's words cracked something inside her , the rawness in his voice digging into the tender parts of her soul . i never forgot about you , mary . not for a second . and fuck — she wanted to believe him . she wanted to believe that maybe , just maybe , the pain hadn’t been one - sided . that she hadn’t been the only one left bleeding . but love had never been her problem . it was trust . so when cooper asked her to decide , when she told her to give him a reason to stay or or to walk away for good — she chose silence . because ‘ stay ’ meant risking everything . and ‘ go ’ meant breaking her own heart all over again . and mary wasn't sure which hurt more .
✱ 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚂𝙻𝙰𝙿 𝙻𝙰𝙽𝙳𝚂 𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙳 , 𝚂𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙿. 𝙱𝚄𝚃 cooper doesn't move , doesn't even raise a hand to touch the sting blooming across his cheek. he just takes it , standing there as the diner falls silent around them , the weight of a dozen eyes pressing in. the sharp tang of coffee and fryer grease lingers in the air , but all he can focus on is mary — her shoulders are drawn tight , her breath coming uneven , her eyes shining with something dangerously close to heartbreak . his own heart gives a dull , heavy thud when he sees the tear slip down his cheek . " oh , don't waste those pretty tears on a bastard like me , " he grumbled while his fingers twitch , like he might reach out and wipe her tears away — but he doesn't.
the slap stings but it's nothing compared to the way cooper's chest tightened when he caught a glimpse of the diamond on her finger … a wedding band. his stomach twists , but he doesn't look away. he should. should step back , put that wall up again , pretend it doesn't hit as hard as it does — but he just stands there , staring at her clenched fist like if he looks long enough , the damn thing might disappear.
his jaw flexed , something bitter lodging itself in the back of his throat. mary's married. of course she is. years have passed , life went on. she went on. and he ? he got lost somewhere between warzones and whiskey bottles , never quite finding his way back. he shouldn't be surprised but fuck , it still hits him like a bullet to the ribs. he swallows hard , forcing down whatever's rising his chest , whatever reckless thing is clawing to get out. " alright , mary. " his voice is quieter now , the rough edge softened just enough to betray something deeper. something raw. it sounds more real than the nickname , like a warm blanket slung over your shoulders during the dead of night.
" you think it was easy for me ? " the words come rough and raw , scraping his throat like gravel. his voice is frayed at the edges , like something is unraveling. " leavin' you behind ? not writin' ? you think i didn't — " he stops short , exhales sharp through his nose like it'll force the words back down. because what's the point ? what good is saying it now she's got a whole other life , a whole other person waiting for her ?
but god , the way mary is looking at him like she's waiting. not for excuses — she doesn't want those. maybe not even for answers. but something. " i never forgot about you , mary. " his voice is scrape something raw on the way out. “ not for a second. ” he glances at her hand again , his throat working around something unspoken. " guess it don't matter much now , does it ? " there's a hollow kind of chuckle , but there's no humor in it . just something tired , something aching. still cooper doesn't move. doesn't leave. " you tell me to walk , i will. " his voice drops to a whisper , like it costs him to say it. " but if you got even the smallest part of you that wants to hear me out — " he swallows , his tongue pressing to the inside of his cheek. " i'll stay. "
❛ ⅋ 𝐢. 𝗽𝗿𝗶𝘃𝗮𝘁𝗲 ( @enternights ) ━ setting description : 02 / 15 @ 7:35 pm !
❛ ⅋ 🐇 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝘄𝗮𝘅 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆'𝘀 nails from the vigil , and she wasn't sure why that unsettled her so much . maybe it was because it reminded her how easy it was to leave a mark — how easy it was for something to melt away completely . mary sighed , crossing her arms as she eyed the fundraiser crowd . " you ever get the feeling that no one here actually gives a damn ? " she muttered , half to herself , half to whoever was standing close enough to hear . " like . . . they show up , pretend to care , and then tomorrow , it's back to normal ? "
❛ ⅋ 𝐢. 𝗽𝗿𝗶𝘃𝗮𝘁𝗲 ( @outc4sts ) ━ setting description : 02 / 15 @ 6:45 pm !
❛ ⅋ 🐇 𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 𝘄𝗮𝘀𝗻'𝘁 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗲𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗶𝗮𝗹 anymore , but it didn't matter — the names were burned into her mind now . none of them had any business being there , and yet , no one else seemed to be questioning it . simply accepting the futile excuses from the higher - ups in town . she turned to the person next to her , tilting her head slightly . " humor me , " she said , voice low but teasing , like she wasn't actually asking them for permission . “ let's say you woke up one day and found your name carved into stone with a bunch of other dead people . what's your next move ? ”
❛ ⅋ 🐇 " 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆'𝗹𝗹 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗲 . " 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀 𝗹𝗲𝗳𝘁 𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆'𝘀 mouth before she decided to speak . she wasn't sure what part of zeynep's rambling had drawn her in , the cracked glass , the name on the memorial , or the quiet — desperate edge to her voice , smoothed over by forced indifference . maybe it was all of it . either way , mary was now involved .
mary exhaled slow and steady , before leaning in slightly . " they just pretend not to until it's too late . " her eyes dropped to the remnants of the broken glass the sharp fractures catching in the dim light of the redstone . she could hear the crack in zeynep's voice — brief , it might've gone unnoticed if mary didn't recognize the sound of someone barely holding it together . " you're not just some myth waiting to happen . but if you keep talking like that , you'll make it easier for them . "
location: redstone bar
time & date: february 15 & 6:00pm
status: open to everyone !
“it was an accident, i swear!” the words rushed out in a furious whisper, she hadn't even noticed that she wasn't alone. zeynep pushed the empty glass she had been inspecting away from herself, before signaling the bartender for another around. “the glass was cracked when i picked it up, who knows how long it’s been defective...right?” she couldn't help but cringe at the sound of her voice, the brief crack felt foreign. no part of her wanted to admit that her name etched into the memorial had left her frightened. zeynep knew fear, it had plagued her nights. every red and blue flashing light had left her in a cold sweat for years. “anyways, apparently i'm on a hit list. they might not even notice before i become the next missing myth in town.” the words flowed so flippantly from her that zeynep could almost fool herself with the feigned nonchalance. “you don't think they'll notice, do you?”
❛ ⅋ 🐇 𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝗮𝘄𝗮𝘆 , 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿𝘀 fussing with the barrette clipped at her temple before swiping her thumb beneath her lower lip ; checking for smudged lipstick , a stray crumb from a muffin she barely remembered eating . then it hit her — what the hell am i doing ? she thought while straightening the hem of her sweater . she sat just a little taller , in an attempt that it would make her look more put together . more unaffected .
of course she knew cooper was back . everyone did . he wasn't as mysterious as he liked to think he was . red creek didn't get many six foot four , gravel voiced , british pieces of shit swaggering through town . . . especially not cooper fucking riley . she hates the effect he has on her , even after all these years . mary's hands curl into fists in her lap . her manicured nails press crescents into her palms as she reminds her self — he does not get to do this to you anymore . but it's hard to hold onto that anger , that resentment , when she looks at him .
she'd imagined this moment before , picturing through all the ways she might see him again . maybe older , maybe softer , maybe carrying a little more regret in the set of his mouth . but she never imagined this . the weight in his eyes , the scars that weren't there before , the way his face is both achingly familiar and completely foreign . it made mary's heart clench . her fingers twitched with the urge to reach out and trace the lines of whatever past he's carried with him . she wants to ask , demand to know where he's been , what's happened to him — why he never wrote to her .
mary waited , like some loyal desperate thing sitting by the mailbox waiting for any sign that he was okay . she wanted to know if cooper still thought about her , even if it was just a few scribbled words on a torn out piece of notebook paper . but he never sent anything . and then — little dove .
something inside mary shattered , splinters straight through her ribcage . the words settle over her like dust disturbed from an old , forgotten place in her chest . that special part of her that once belonged to him . if this was one of her books , this would be the moment where she'd break . melt into his embrace and say something cutting but laced with longing . instead of falling right back into him mary slaps him . it's a quick and sharp . the crack of her palm against his face louder than she expected . the diner goes silent for a moment , eyes darting towards them . mary doesn't care and she doesn't apologize either .
" don't you —— " her voice catches , it's about to break but she swallows it down . mary will not cry , not in front of him . easier said than done . " you don't get to call me that , " mary chided a tear falling down her cheek . her hand clenches , nails biting into her palm once more . she forces her breathing to steady but it doesn't sound any less wrecked . " say whatever you came to say , bea — " mary winced , " — cooper . " she corrected , her voice sharper than before . " and then leave . "
✱ 𝙲𝙾𝙾𝙿𝙴𝚁 𝙷𝙰𝙳 𝚂𝙿𝙴𝙽𝚃 𝚈𝙴𝙰𝚁𝚂 𝙻𝚈𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚃𝙾 himself , telling himself he’d made peace with it — leaving red creek , leaving her. that it had been the only choice , the right one. but now , sat inches away from mary kwon after all this time , he felt like he’d been kicked in the ribs. she was the only soft thing he’d ever let himself have , and he ruined it. ruined her. he told himself it was better that way , but christ , he must’ve been a right idiot if he ever believed that.
he wonders if she knows. if she knows about the picture he kept stuffed in his hat when he was off in some shithole overseas , the edges curled from how many times he’d traced his fingers over her face. if she knows about the letters — dozens of them , his messy scrawl pressed into whatever scraps of paper he could nick. words he never had the bottle to send.
mary , they always started. i don't know why i’m writing this.
some nights , he’d sit on his bunk , reading them over under the weak glow of a barracks lamp , pretending that maybe — just maybe — she’d still be waiting. that if he could just find the right words , the right way to say i never stopped loving you , then maybe he could fix it. but the letters always ended up in the same place — tucked away , crumpled up , gathering dust.
he thought about coming back. god , he thought about it. when he was halfway across the world , when he was soaked to the bone in the middle of nowhere , when the nights stretched on too long and all he could hear was the echo of her voice in his head. but how do you come back from something like this ? how do you look the girl you promised the moon to in the eye and tell her you never meant to break her heart ?
now , standing beside her , her name still thick on his tongue , cooper felt small. felt like that same reckless kid who never knew how to hold onto a good thing. and yet , after all these years , after all the miles and the regrets — he still wanted to try. finally , he sits , the stool creaking under his weight. “ little dove. ” it’s not a greeting , not a question — just her nickname , like maybe if he says it enough times , it’ll undo all the years between them.
❛ ⅋ 🐇 𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗲𝘅𝗵𝗮𝗹𝗲𝘀 𝗮 𝗯𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗵 𝘀𝗵𝗲 hadn't realized she was holding . she sets the spoon down carefully , the quiet tap of metal against porcelain the only sound between them for a moment . " because if no one talks about it , it happens again . " her voice is steady , though there's something distant about it , as if mary has already resigned herself to the vicious cycle . she finally looks at sienna , taking in the skeptical tilt of her brow and the way her fingers curl around her mug searching for warmth from wherever it came .
" people don't talk about it because they think they can stop it , " mary continues , voice even . " they talk about it because they need to feel like they have control . like if they name the next move , it won't take them by surprise . " her gaze flickers past sienna to the window , where the town outside keeps moving like it isn't rotting from the inside out . she lets out a soft , humorless chuckle . “ let them guess the ending . maybe this time , they'll actually be right . ”
sienna moves through dolly’s with a quiet purpose that comes from routine . the place is stitched into the fabric of her days , a constant in a town that keeps fraying at the edges . she barely glances around as she makes her way to her usual booth , the vinyl seat still warm from whoever sat there last . but as she slides in , her gaze flicks toward the counter , catching on a familiar profile — mary , stirring her coffee like she’s trying to unravel something in the swirl of her mug .
her voice cuts through the diner’s murmur , dry and knowing , and sienna exhales , setting her coffee down with a soft tap . “ if it’s just like ‘99 , ” she starts off , “ then what’s the point in talking about it ? ” she lifts a brow , something skeptical playing at the corner of her mouth . “ it's like everyone's waiting for the next bad thing to happen . ” she leans back , fingers curling around the warmth of her mug . “ people act like guessing the ending makes it hurt any less . ” her gaze lingers on mary for a second before she glances out the window where dead creek keeps moving like it isn’t still bleeding .
❛ ⅋ 🐇 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿'𝘀 𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝘀𝗶𝗱𝗲 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗱𝗼𝗲𝘀𝗻'𝘁 pull mary from her thoughts . her gaze remains fixed on some distant point inside dolly's , a small detail she's pretending to care about rather than acknowledging him fully . his words don't do much to sway her , but there's something in his tone ; a quiet tension , a need to be taken seriously . that tells mary everything she needs to know . " maybe there isn't a demographic . " she says , her voice even . " maybe there' just doing it because they can . and they're smarter than the dunces in the sheriff's department . "
finally , mary looks at him . young . she can tell just by the set of his jaw and the way he carries himself . he didn't live through the first string of disappearances , through the whispers , the theories , and the absolute lack of answers . there was no demographic back then , either . no concrete lead . it was almost as if those charge were just waiting ; letting time wash over the horror until people stopped asking questions . mary had a feeling that was exactly what would happen again . " i'm not some monster , " she says after a pause , her voice carrying something tired beneath the edge . " i wouldn't capitalize on people's pain with cheap headlines . " she rolls her eyes , leaning back slightly . " it's not like i work at the register . "
1999 WAS QUITE THE YEAR, but what could bash possibly know? he was merely cooking in the womb by the time the legendary handful of disappearances and murders took place. he was no detective, but still, his link to the register made it quite impossible to try not to draw the connections. sure seemed like the sheriff's department wasn't getting any closer, but perhaps his own biases took over that opinion.
there wasn't much thought when walking passed the doors he was so used to breezing through. growing up in a shit town like red creek sure presented the opportunity for running on autopilot. coffee. sit. work. rinse. repeat. pushing the metal bar open with ease, a sigh drew out as hues landed on the local that seemingly matched his bitterness. the regret of approaching mary slowly seeped in at the accusation for his interruption in the first place.
❝ and what exactly is similar to '99 ? the demographics certainly don't line up . copy cat theory might as well be laced with a tin-foil hat , ❞ sebastian stated plainly, tone and expression stoic. as much as he enjoyed getting a read on others, he didn't desire for the favor to be returned. ❝ hope you're not planning to flip from romance to mystery . if you do , don't seek inspiration from this shit hole . it would inevitably lead to a dead end . ❞
❛ ⅋ 🐇 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗶𝗰𝘆 𝗿𝗼𝗮𝗱 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗲𝘁𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 mary's grip on the wheel was firm , her gaze rarely straying . but then she heard it . . . a small , uncertain voice cutting through her window . a plea for help . mary eased the car into park , stepping out with precision . her heels clicked against the frozen gravel , each step measured as she pulled her coat tighter against the bitter cold . she approached the stalled yellow beetle , taking in the scene with a practiced sort of detachment . a quiet sigh left her lips as she looked down the road behind them ; empty and barren , stretching into nothing . turning back to savannah , her voice was cool but even .
" let me guess — you hit the pothole ? " mary shook her head , " it's been there since i was your age , you're not the first and you won't be the last . " gaze flickered toward the flat tire , unimpressed but not surprised . of course it had to be tonight . with everything going on , the last thing anyone needed was to be stranded alone on the side of the road. mary pulled out her phone , glancing at the screen before looking back at savannah . " i can call someone , but if you're hoping i’ll be the one crawling under that thing , you’re out of luck . " then mary adds dryly , " i don’t do roadside rescues . "
location: side street near downtown
time: early evening, shortly before sunset
status: open ! (0/4 replies)
savannah had spent her evening at redcreek's local trailer park, catching up with her aunt gina and having dinner with her and some of her old neighbors. she didn't like to admit that that some time had gone by since she properly caught up with all of them. though it was only for a few hours, it was a great distraction to forget about all of the uncertainty that had come from the most recent killing. for just a few hours everything seemed almost normal again.
on her way back to her apartment, she had been looking forward to settling in for the night with her latest craft project and cuddles with her four legged roommate. only a few minutes away, she attempts to avoid the giant pothole that she knew was down this road. off by a few seconds, she hears the thud that is expected but what follows next is the sound of her tire going crazy. driving a twenty something year old yellow beetle was always a terrible idea once the seasons changed and the chuck holes increased.
managing to pull over on a side street, she gets out of her bug to inspect the damage. as expected, one of her front tires is as flat as a pancake. thank you michigan and your shitty winters and roads.
"please tell me you know how to put on a spare tire?" the girl questioned as a car approaches, rolling down their window.
❛ ⅋ 🐇 𝗿𝗲𝗱𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘂𝘀𝘂𝗮𝗹 spot to find mary . it was too loud , too reckless , and too desperate . she was just scoping the scene , as she put it , though if she was going to be here , she might as well have a vodka cran in hand . the entire town was titled on its axis , and its citizens were struggling to keep their balance . mary was no different , even if she acted otherwise . she lifted her glass , watching the ice swirl before taking a slow slip .
the sting of vodka was a welcome distraction . the bar buzzed with nervous energy , everyone had a theory , a whisper of a reason why kirby had been the next name on the town's ever growing list of ghosts . deadcreek curse , mary always hated that name . she hated how quickly people accepted tragedy as twisted fate instead of asking real questions . at the sound of joey’s voice , mary exhaled sharply , setting her glass down with precise care . she gave them a pointed look , her tone dry . " i think you've had enough bad decisions for the night , " she said , arching a brow . " one more isn’t going to change anything . "
LOCATION : redstone bar
STATUS : open to everyone!
NIGHTS AT REDSTONE were rarely dull and tonight was no exception. with a good hour still left before closing, joey has already had to throw a handful of people out. everyone was on edge. the news of kirby's death seemed to have lit a fire under the town, sparking a desperate need to escape the so-called ‘deadcreek curse’ that has fallen on them again. was it grief the town was feeling? fear? whatever it was, it was making everyone act like idiots—and it was starting to piss joey off.
“i need a shot.” she announces, pushing herself off the counter and turning towards a stack of freshly cleaned glasses. she picks one up, pauses, then glances over at the figure on the other side of the bar. "you gonna be a prick and make me take it by myself?"
A Warrior’s Burden
The boy yearns for freedom
Foolish dreams that never come
Once tender hands wield a spear
Bodies at his feet, a monster inciting fear
Centuries of bloodshed stain his hands
Ghosts haunting his waking dreams
Eternally bound to the weight of his sins
His one wish is peace
To forget the eternity of his burdening existence
Lay his weary body to rest in the plains
Hear the heart of the world, a steady drum
The lyre lulls him, so soft and sweet
Skies full of gleaming lanterns, a path to hope
Yet his destiny is to fight alone
For he knows all too well that some wars never end.
And not all sins can be forgiven, alas
In the endless history of his shadowed past
A weapon is all he can be.
Serenade of Pearls 🌊
Silver moonlight envelopes me in your blissful embrace
It’s ethereal glow illuminating my face
Steady footsteps as I approach the waves
Salt air, the rush, what my heart truly craves
The waters of your being bring forth tranquility
This sacred place, my sanctuary of serenity
Where I can scream the restless dreams of my lonesome being
All of my burdens become fleeting
Only you bear witness to what my wishes are
Just the two of us, my heart bursts
Overflowing with awe at the mere sight of your beauty
Only you, my dear muse, are what inspires my soul
What keeps my artistic mind awake at night
You’re the star I look for in the darkness
And no matter the distance between us
When my fateful return happens, you’ll welcome me with open arms
“you’re a mess of good intentions gone wrong. you strike a match on yourself to keep others warm, and now the whole goddamn world’s on fire. you try to put it out, and you try so hard. the dam breaks, and the waters of your sorrow pour free. you are sorry; so very, very sorry— and you will drown everyone to prove it.”
— the hero who couldn’t save anyone | m.a.w
@ryebreadgf / The Truth About Grief, Fortesa Latifi / bone deep, m.v.e / Sidewalk, Richard Silken / unknown / 60 hours, m.v.e / @itsblackleader / Salt, Nayyirah Waheed / @heavensghost
I heard someone say that the antidote to chronic consumption is creative contribution, so with that said I'm GOING to write a novel. Hopefully multiple novels. I've had this idea for a while now but I'm officially going to act upon it.
Unrequited Love
I slowly crept behind the door, creaking the tiniest gap open. There he was, padded in armour with nothing else but his kind smile. His eyes twinkled in the dim light, those pools of honey faced a figure of a woman who I couldn't make out.
“My darling Guinivere from the moment I saw, I knew my heart wouldn't beat the same without you. I have all the riches in the land and yet they mean nothing in comparison to you.” he said with such great earnestness. It was as if a dagger pierced my heart. Why must he have feelings for another? Why can’t he love me? As tears threatened to spill, the huge lump in my throat grew more agonising. As I clasped my hand across my mouth, I opened the door by the smallest inch. My Arthur, my sweet Arthur held sweet adoration in his eyes whilst he crouched on one knee. A small wooden box bearing the most gorgeous ring carved of jade and diamonds shone, just like Guinivere’s smile.
“I love you…desperately. So please would you do me the honour of becoming my wife and Queen of Camelot?”
My heart broke: waterfalls drenched my face, evident creases ruined my dress shirt from clutching it too hard. I need to leave now. I can't let Arthur see me like this. He can't see how much I care.
Growing pains
Grief. The intense sorrow, especially caused by someone's death. No one really prepares you for the mourning of friends. Friends that are still well and alive but aren’t with you. The death of friendships you held so close to heart that you feel a rip in your soul as they pass away. This heartbreak is almost irreparable compared to the fleeting emotions of unrequited love or suppressed depression ; it consumes you in a dark hole of intense loneliness and desperate failure.
I’ve always been envious of people who lived in the time of no technology - a time when passing conversations was enough to connect you: a time where you greet a friend so casually having not seen them for a decade. What happens when old friends meet each other? Did they mutter awkward greetings or welcome each other with soft affection? Or do they simply walk past each other like strangers despite their shared history?
His shadow leaves
A window ceases to see
Natures Solitude
“He left me the way he always had: disappointed, but not surprised.”
LOVE, DEAR ABBY
WAR.
Three rotations around the sun,
and sometimes I’m still not over it,
I know the war is what I won,
But those battle plans just won’t quit.
I dug many trenches back when fighting,
years later, they aren’t filled,
‘Should I’ve done things different?’ Keeps me awake,
With sleep deprivation, I’m skilled.
I think of who I might have been if you hadn’t happened,
But if not, I wouldn’t have met that man, I wouldn’t have stole his hat and,
Put it on; “combat vet” it read right on brim,
The two of us weren’t so different, we both had wars we tried to win.
But that’s the thing about going to war:
even if you come out on ‘top’,
The ghosts you met will follow you,
The haunting will never stop.
But there’s something nice meeting a veteran,
Literal or not,
He’ll support you unconditionally,
your back he’s always got
And so I bought him flowers,
A simple thought that crossed my mind,
I’ll never forget that smile
When he revealed it was the first time,
That someone gave him something
for his service, not anyone,
The thing is, he’s got no idea
how much for me he’s done.
LOVE, DEAR ABBY
Thank you for treating me the way I never knew I was supposed to be treated.
LOVE, DEAR ABBY
I don’t just love the way they love me; I love the way they make me love myself.
- LOVE, DEAR ABBY