AngelLover4eva

Stop nonsense punctuation! :)

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Fledermaus.

7 deviations

Literature

just like any other.

the scary thing is, i woke up today and i finally saw me through your eyes. and it dawned on me: i can't pretend anymore. i can't hide under itchy wool that swallows my skin. i cannot cower into the greedy hollows of my mind or fade between the creases in my calloused palms. because when i woke up, that's all i saw. i saw a girl collect her purple bruises, midnight shadows she carries beneath her foggy blue eyes. i saw her swing her toes, ankles, knees, thighs over the side of a swollen bed. the toes she wishes were less ordinary and more ballerina. the ankles that hold thin skin and thick regrets. the knees she does not trust and the thighs

Awesome writing

240 deviations

Cute

31 deviations

Harry Potter

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Twilight

344 deviations

just like any other. by hush-lullaby, literature

Literature

just like any other.

summer passed. by hush-lullaby, literature

Literature

summer passed.

we grew up watching the sunset crawl over our backs like spiders invade damp bedclothes in dusty rooms. we began speaking, singing the songs of wallflowers in morning rain while the blue ink swelled from our wrists. the effects of homemade tattoos made from cheap pens and sticky fingers. we smelled of history textbooks, science experiments and barely sharpened pencils. we were the echoes of school bells, wedding bells and sleigh bells. we were echoes. we spent hours lying on rooftops, smoking cigarettes and calling to the ocean through seashells. we spent too much money on records we couldn't play and far too much time pi

one of them. by hush-lullaby, literature

Literature

one of them.

i'm one of those girls. the ones that sip tea like vodka the ones who tie bows around their ribs to keep out strangers the ones that spill onto pavement, pooling around parked cars and resting gulls the ones that turn off the lights to see their skin turn from pale to bleached the ones that wear dresses only within the four walls of their bedroom the ones that like the feeling of chapped lips in november the ones that would dye their hair red, brick red, to match old apartment buildings that hold character and charm the ones that sit in trees, legs crossed telling stories, or rather waiting for their story to be told.

reality's ghost. by hush-lullaby, literature

Literature

reality's ghost.

whisper into every bone of parasol oak trees her name, her smile in case she forgets tremble with the scraped floorboards because she's too lost to shiver too sing with frosted lips to the window panes and stars will sing too soft for words jump the fence with broken records and a bottle of wine designed to loosen your heart escape hallucinations through piano keys reciting loved skin because angels paint reality braid her spine with pretty dotted i's and crossed t's when no one is watching

Ted by HelzCullen, literature

Literature

Ted

you know, I used to be a real nice guy called Ted. yeah, I'd walk the streets and fill in the blanks. I'd be that guy. you know. that one you always depended on. the one whose secrets were yours and you were his (secrets). yeah, well, Ted was really great. what you didn't know about him was that he was also a mass murderer. he took lungs from people's chests and ran away with them. serially. yeah. I know. and when he did it, he'd just – he'd just laugh at them, too. they'd be floundering like a man in spacesuit, sans the suit. and he'd laugh. you know? you know. the blood would be on his hands for months afterwards. he was hamlet,

plant some more when I'm gone by HelzCullen, literature

Literature

plant some more when I'm gone

he brought home six pot plants and said, these plants will last me till I die. I smiled and said, that's nice, dear. (just chores, honey.) he put up a flag that the world was afraid of. it's the sunrise's defence, he said, but I didn't understand. he was a loved lecturer and yet he vowed never to lecture me. did he keep his promise? oh, someone tell me: did he keep his promise? and he said, with this job, he might outlive all you men with buttoned hearts. he spent his money on baby bio and fertiliser. the earth doesn't matter, an actress was caught smirking. he was furious. the earth is where we all go when we die; of

love poison by hush-lullaby, literature

Literature

love poison

We're two sick patients in the psychiatric ward, matching fevers to our palms and sewing pills to our stomach's lining We're the pair along the bathroom wall, waiting for the blood to thicken and the heart to begin to swell- exposed It's not morning time in the morgue, but I hear they take the young and the restless It's not mourning time in the morgue, but you've already forgotten what it means to grieve Between the gurneys and medicals bills, are the stories we tell at night, the tributes to the poor boy who fell down the well, with eyes sealed shut He used to tell us to be careful of love, as it is like

lucy's lucid love by HelzCullen, literature

Literature

lucy's lucid love

come on & break my legs. don't fall again; I've fallen asleep this time. (she is inexplicable. and there's a full stop! after her name.) this is how we sleep speak now. but no, you don't know what coal eyes feels like. -when you get down to it, you hate me and all that I stand for, but that's okay. trees sometimes wave(,) right?, while the left becomes steadily worse & the head says, "I'll take it from here, thanks."- go on & do it. (okay is the worst kind of lie)

Emo? by LittleSushi, literature

Literature

Emo?

I wear striped socks. I listen to Lostprophets. I sometimes wear a black tie with tiny little sculls on it. I read books. I'm not too pretty. I eat chocolate when I'm depressed. I sometimes feel as though The only right thing to do Is to crawl up inside of me and die With Tori Amos in the background. Am I Emo enough for you? You wear everything striped lately. You lined up your soul in black and white. You hate pink. You say that you hate it when people label you. Then maybe you should quit labelling yourself? Maybe you should stop looking down on girls because they wear pink. Maybe they're being themselves

Down by Lorijn-Lammes, literature

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