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Literature
grieve for your former love
I fell in love with a boy
who adored me, madly-deeply-truly
but he was so afraid of happiness
that he locked me out
on a cold winter's night
("it's for the best," he said,
and my fingers were clammy-cold,
my eyes itching, my throat sore,
if sadness is a little bit like dying
then I met death that night)
these days my heart is a jigsaw puzzle
and I'm still sorting out the pieces;
but no, I'm not angry right now -
you couldn't risk happiness
(I don't understand it at all
but I understand
you pushed me away
only so you'd never feel the pain
of losing me)
happiness terrifies you,
so you chose misery
and misery turned the key
to the lock of your heart
there's no space for me there;
I'm outside, and I am cold
but I'll rekindle a fire, sooner
or later, I'll find my step again,
I'll dance until sad songs don't
make me wanna cry
I'm lost, I'm Dorothy,
this isn't Kansas anymore
and you say you're missing
your heart your brain your courage
(you're an idiot, but you have a brain;
you said no to lo
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Literature
you swallowed me whole
you're everything
a black hole consuming my heart
(my life, my universe)
you're the blood under my fingernails
the dirt and tears I rub out of my eyes
you're a black hole
swallowing my star
you were everything
and could've been
so much more
you're nothing
but regret
to me
now
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Literature
I'll be fine (monsters in my head)
i. anxiety
my field of vision narrows down
while the world around me grows big and bigger
I am a tiny particle on a giant's playground;
I forget to breathe
ii. stress
another deadline hits me in the face;
I cannot stop my nose from bleeding,
and I do not have the time, there is no time,
never any goddamn time--
iii. loneliness
why is nobody helping me? you could
just be here; breathe; be present - if only
I wasn't alone, this would be easier, if only
I could talk to someone, if only
iv. fight
look the monsters straight in the eye;
face discomfort, your fears and insecurities
the longer you look, the smaller they become
let go, and so will they, breathe, breathe
I'll be fine
I can do this, I'll be fine
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Literature
1st of February (Wednesday)
3 days ago, the following phrase
had me choked up and in tears:
"Everything is as it should be."
My subconscious had been wailing at me for weeks, I think.
But that day, I listened for the first time -
everything wasn't as it should be.
You were not around;
hardly talking to me;
you had time and energy for others, though -
busyness and mental health started looking like excuses.
I guess I knew what would happen; but I'm an optimist, my dear.
Before you made me sob my heart out,
I never once let go of hope.
2 days ago, I asked you to talk about us. I told you I needed clarity - about us.
Clarity is not what you gave me.
You gave me an inventory of your pain, and cited it as a reason
for you being momentarily incapable of love.
You told me that I could never help you; that you
HAVE TO DO THIS BY YOURSELF.
You told me that you couldn't handle even thinking of love. That you weren't ready.
           
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Literature
the bard sings of the mean queen
You saw right, I am a mean queen,
a true heartbreaking machine -
but you understand no thing;
I'll have my tortures teach you a song to sing.
Pain you know and pain you cause
and from the ashes, not a phoenix rose,
but a hellhound; my anger's metaphors
hiding in your kitchen's shadows.
I will hunt you down, I will have you on your knees
listen to you beg for sweet, sweet release -
but you burned me love, you deserve these tears
you deserve counting your regrets until your voice disappears.
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Literature
sadness is a sepia filter
the color filters out of the world
after you bleed out;
but I can see it on my hands,
shaking, covered in it
what you did to me is red
you fell for me;
my heart was freshly mended
and you made it bloom
like a deep burgundy aster
but then you saw the world in red
all the pretty words in the world
did not reach you; you've big teeth
and think this means you gotta be
the lone wolf;
your maw, dripping red
there was nothing I could do;
you self-destructed, and I stood
way too close, shrapnel in my chest,
my hands, they're shaking, covered in it
through my tears, the world turned sepia
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Literature
pattern
I notice;
whenever it gets hard
I forget to breathe,
and I tremble,
I know you'll spit me out
and I'll be on fire.
I notice;
every time I shatter
I can see it coming,
and am helpless
to avoid it -
an explosion I cannot sidestep,
a heat seeking missile
locked on my chest.
I notice;
every time it feels
inevitable; now,
the flames lick
already at my heels;
I see it without feeling.
I notice;
whenever my heart breaks,
I hit the killswitch myself;
but you all are to blame,
all those times I met Eros -
and what did you do, my loves?
you put the grenade in my hand,
and yes, I pull the ring ignitor;
and I go up in smoke
but really you should
hack your lungs out
watching me.
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Literature
(I have had a shitty night)
what do you do
when your moon and stars
decides they are your poison
what can you do
and what, oh, what
do you feel?
" if you are
the poison in my wine;
I'll stain my lips with it
to get a kiss. "
" don't. "
hold on, dig in your claws;
you know this won't be easy
but we're strong (right?)
we can do this (please)
we will hold on --
but it hurts
" everyone gets hurt
when they care too much
about me. "
" so you're hurting me now? "
who's the cure and what's the poison -
you'd rather throw me out now
than suffer the heartache
that comes after happiness
" I'm sorry doesn't fix
the way you told me
to break my own heart. "I've tried to hold on;
but you'd already decided for me,
haven't you?
you've decided
long before
" My mistake;
I didn't expect you
to throw me away
that easily. "going, going, g o n e
you make me
want to break my fist
on a wall
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Literature
cry, then rage.
"I'm sorry you feel this way" -
respectfully, love, shove your sorry apology
right up your backside;
you have put me here.
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Literature
the Jester and the Queen: beginnings
    i.
His words seemed to say
I am beneath you;
I bow to you;
I do not deserve for you
to look at me;
but you should know
you are everything.

    ii.
He did not ask for anything,
so she gave him her heart;
he, who seemed such an ill fit,
a dizzy-eyed loon
tingling with every step,
laughter following his wake.
She gave him her heart.
    iii.
This is how the story begins
of the Jester and his Queen.
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Literature
avalanche
my head is filled to the brim
with words;
but today they tumble around uselessly
an avalanche of words; my burial,
may I rest in peace
you say you're afraid
and fear, I know it better than you may think,
fear, it eats a hole into my belly
I am afraid
my head is empty,
there are no magic words
to draw you close, when you're so far -
or if there are, then I've forgotten
I am terrified
to have you slip through my hands
like desert sand, like a half-awake thought
and I can't grasp you, anymore -
most of all, I am afraid
that I may have lost the words
that made you love me so
oh,
may I rest in peace
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Literature
To the Worried Ones
No matter how small your worries,
they are not insignificant. Look up at the stars -
you're small, but you're also the entire world,
and you're breathing.
You're the entire world,
and you're a dust particle,
floating through sunlight.
Believe me when I say - you don't need
to shoulder the globe, to feel like the stars
will fall if you don't cup your hands around them
in the sky to keep them safe.
The world won't fall apart,
and neither will it mend,
for your tears.
No matter how small your smile,
it is not insignificant. Chant
que sera, sera, and realise:
your smile, it means the world.
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Literature
fire! fire!
i.
love
it'll be a bumpy ride
hold on tight
ii.
"if you're the type
to do something sweet -
and I think you are -
let me know"
iii.
you told me of a cardboard dragon
and
I
set myself on fire
iv.
"you're not the type
for romantic gestures"
v.
I'm not
at all romantic
if writing doesn't count
and I think it should,
because you love these words
oh, don't give me lip
(except to kiss
that is)
darling
I bet you're smiling
right now
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Literature
rainy sunday night
You love the rain.
I never did.
     I never knew the desperation of drought
     what it feels like when your land is so thirsty
     it cracks up beneath your feet -
when you never get introduced
to the concept that water is scarce
it seems a hassle to have it
fall on your head.
It rained today;
the air was cold, the street was wet
and while I wasted my time
waiting on a train
I wasted it
listening to the soft splitter-splatter of the rain,
too.
These days
when it rains
when the clouds hang fat and full
in the sky
and someone complains,
calling the weather a bother, a disgrace -
I think "you would love this" instead.
Loving you
didn't make me love the rain
but it made me think of you
whenever I look out and the sky is full of clouds
and the rain splitter-splatters heavily
against my umbrella -
and that is almost the same thing.
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Literature
Your name, it's here.
If you're looking for your name
within my poems,
I hope you hear it
whispered between the syllables,
whimpered between tearful rhymes,
I cry and scream and I beg, I beg
your name, your name
I want it to stick to my tongue
I want it as the aftertaste in my throat
after I've tasted ink
I want to keep it,
I want it to stay,
I want it to be the sound I make
when my laughter dies ;
you shall have
every last tone my throat produces
until I lose my voice ;
and then, you shall have
my silence as well
your name, it's here,
I hope you hear it,
it is here.
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Literature
I will heal.
One kind of war
is to fight oneself
about not fitting right
within your skin;
I have torn myself apart
over boys and girls and my own thoughts
have looked at my bleeding heart,
and - - -
       oh, I can't
       rebuild myself
       through this curtain of tears ;
please
just be my peace,
let me find my home
in the marrow of your bone.
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Favourites

Literature
Sang der Stumme Spielmann
Meine Liebe, lebe leise
lebe lang und lebe gut
und an dieser stillen Weise
verlier nur niemals deinen Mut
Ach, welch Fest und welche Feier
haben wir noch nicht gesehn
Spielten stets die stille Leier
mussten ärmer wieder gehn
Meine Liebe, lebe leise
lebe gut und lebe lang
und mit dieser stillen Weise
trug ich einst mein Herz dir an
Ach, wir spielten immer wieder
leiser konnten wir nicht sein
und für tausend stille Lieder
wurd ich ihrs und sie ward mein
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Literature
Hot-blooded.
We are the renegades of poetry, effigies
blazing comet-like with diamond teeth and
pearl eyes;
(Honey you’re 14 carats of
perfection.)
We are burning bones in firecracker paper,
we are serving gods dressed as men in
diners, praying to men dressed as gods for
dinner;
There are threads, free-verse and free-veined
and cobwebbed from our fingers to our words;
There are memories scratching under our skin,
tattoos glowing under the uv lights, turn me
inside out and you will find a masterpiece.
You could crush cities under your boots and I
stand as a dam, holding back a deluge of rain
pour flood waters. We are stomping through
civilisations on opposite sides of the earth and I can
almost hear your footsteps in the tremors of moths’
wings (Honey distance is a state of mind);
And I know these words don’t fit in my skull
quite yet, but your language is blossoming in
the concrete cracks between my metropolis
sky-scraping ball-and-socket joints, are feeding
off my marrow and we a
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Literature
Bitlets 371
When adults were little they
didn't need warning labels
because they weren't morons,
I'm told.
Those very same adults
did an outstanding job
raising morons then.
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Journal
Weekly Round Up
This Week's Features
:star: How to Panic, Exactly (1) by bruxing
It was only a matter of time before Leah slit someone’s throat, or so my neighbors would always say. They were the kind of old folks that farmed garden gnomes indoors and I never looked much into their opinions.
With the first sentence, you're pulled into the story.  The dialogue is natural, the characters have personality and the story will keep your attention til the end.
:star:
Wanted: Heart Transplant
 by miserabel

My heart --
it doesn't suit me anymore.

:star:
<strong>
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Journal
Today's Headlines From The News Desk 3-31-15


Archive
Today’s Headlines From The News DeskMarch 31, 2015
:iconeawood: eawood
:iconmoonbeam13: Moonbeam13
:icontechgnotic: techgnotic
Twitter
Facebook
Google+

New ‘Mad Max’ Trailer
Warner Bros. has released the first full trailer for Mad Max: Fury Road and this movie just keeps looking better and better. The costumes, sets, cars, and explosions are all looking top-notch in this trailer, which illuminates a little bit of the film’s plot. The movie will be released in May.
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Literature
Greenwich Mean Time is a liar
In the mornings, while I yawn and
pour cereal singing into a bowl, you
yawn and turn in bed, the evening
settling like snowfall, thick and heavy
outside your window. Here the sun rises,
there it sets, we exist at opposite ends
of the days, sending our postcard promises
with the cycle of the moon. In the afternoons
I walk along the beach and the tides pool in
with your slumbering sighs, like the oceans
are your lungs, filling and deflating with a
white-wash rumble. The birds chorus the dawn
and the gulls hang suspended in a waning day
and I think of the clattering wind-chimes behind me
as your cereal hitting the bowl, the odd piece
scattered on the countertop, your bleary eyes
never noticing. In the evenings, I push the sun
down below the mountains, to sit high up in your
cerulean skies, you pack up the stars and mail them
to me, and they pinprick the dusk as if you threw them
up like confetti. You glance at the time zones on your
phone, and wish me goodnight as I wish you a good day
an
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Literature
Pandora's Crack
I breathed in a little dose(s)
of caster sugar and cocoa dust
before I leaped
I dove in ear-deep
to castrate this soured identity
    "Who I am"
will no longer associate itself
with the
    "was" and      "had been"
of
       "me"
The rust that ran through my shackle
could not wear my ankle bones
nor the wings tucked in between
I licked off my salt-covered wounds
-all that once burned me, cured you
This time
I will be my own
salve and salvation
This time I aim to am
sparkle,
swimming through
the moons of mighty Neptune
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Journal
Super Feature for October 18th, 2014
Super Feature 

 for October 18th, 2014

Theme: The Different Faces of Death
The Super Feature is an article that features a few select pieces from a handful of writers. 
Be sure to check out the rest of the short stories and/or poetry in their galleries!
You can show your support by +favloveing this News Article. 
Please comment and +fav the features and congratulate the artists!
~~~~
miserabel
Death experienced in the realms of human imagination
  
Tangled-Tales
The idea of death interconnected with innocence and childhood
 
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Literature
static sprinkles
yesterday
i got out of bed and coated my eyelashes in black paint
and took off the paint with a wet wipe
and went back to bed.
some other things happened in between.
every day
i wear a secret, in a locket
on a cold chain against my chest
except the locket is a sharp dagger
and your fingernails will bleed if you try to pry it open.
some day
the world will be full of distinctive shapes again
and I will love star flecked skies, and freckles,
and powder chocolate cappuccino dustings
once more.
that day
i won’t be scared of the sky swallowing me up
or scrub my freckles raw and curse them like pin pricks
or cry at the extra indulgence of chocolate dots
that i feel i don’t deserve.
(i need fairy dust)
another day
the locket will loosen, spilling out grey ashes
that dull and fade in the shadow
of such hopeful twinkles, warm sweetnesses,
and tiny skin kisses
of a body learning to love itself.
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Literature
to the boy who doesn't plan on leaving
how much of me can you swallow, love
before you finally purge?
I am a cartographer of bad
experiences; I can locate
precisely where I see our divergence
extraordinaire and I can tell you
before I have even met you
that the skin on my hands is too
dry for the softness you plan
on caressing me with.
let me tell you how this ends;
I will show you all the people
I have destroyed - flooded
to the best of my ignorance,
driven wild with jealousy,
had whipped with lust and left
smoking pot after four
promises stating otherwise.
let me tell you how this ends;
after showing you the blessed
catastrophe it is to be human,
you will destroy me. you may not mean much
but god, my heart
will make sure
you do.
I never miss people who leave.
I miss the ones I walk away from
with guilt tainting my forlorn
swagger so
how much of me will you swallow
before you finally purge, love?
a girl once called me her home
until she saw just how much
bigger I am on the inside
and it took her
a day and some minutes
to r
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Literature
aga-gay
do you ever
just get the feeling
that you're
the only one
in the room
who knows
what love is?
because
sometimes
i feel a pain in my chest
and faces pop into
my head
and witty statements
and funny moments
and good things
and bad things
and a bunch of
other things
and all that.
like the time you said
romantic homosexual affairs between one man and another
and just made it into
love.
or like the time you took
my hand in front of Mr. Feeney's
Orthodox Methods for Life club
and just whispered
we're all right.
do you ever
just get the feeling
that you're
the only one
in the room
who knows
what that meant?
:iconterribly-forgotten:terribly-forgotten
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Literature
this is a warning.
i.
The first thing you need
to know about people is this:
we're shitty.
ii.
If you cut off our head,
we will grow two in its place.
We will divide and conquer
until there's nothing left
but tiny gaping mouths,
clacking and salivating
at the crumbs of an empire.
iii.
They tell me hurt is like
a paper cut:
quick and forgotten,
forgotten.
They're wrong.
Hurt is the first step
off a balcony,
the first gasp
in a chain reaction
screaming from the railing
to beyond the pavement.
When I finally hit the ground,
I looked up and saw my halo
dangling from the edge,
dented.
iv.
We cycle.
He said, she said,
I wanted, he lost, she won,
I ruined this, I broke your heart,
he left me,
I miss you.
This is nothing new.
Your tragedy is always
someone else's.
Tell me,
what's it like to realize
every slash on your soul
has an identical twin?
What's it like to know
you're going to die
the same way everyone does:
scared and alone?
v.
We are disposable.
The hydra g
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Journal
Spreading Love and Another Feature
Hey guys, it's me again. School's going well, nothing really new to report besides I'm averaging a perfect score in my Composition II class and the grades in all of my other classes are As as well. So you won't hear me complaining about that. Life has been okay, it could be better, could be worse, but I have my core that I know I can lean on. I really don't have much to report on myself anymore besides just being really tired and emotionally and mentally drained. But I shall love till I can't anymore and when I can't; I'll be crumpled in a field, my body wasting away as my soul walks somewhere...
As far as deviantART goes, I've gone through all of my messages that have piled up in the last month which explains the fave bombs the lot of you received, but I'm happy to have caught up on all of y'all's wonderful works. I've missed so many words and stories, but I'm glad to be back in the thick of reading. School takes a lot of my will to read but I just gotta be more diligent, that's all.
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Journal
Daily Lit Recognition for September 10th, 2014
Daily Lit Recognition for September 10th, 2014
We are proud to feature today's Daily Literature Recognition!

You can show your support by :+favlove:ing this News Article.
Please comment and :+fav: the features and congratulate the artists!
Poetry
Suggested by: BlackBowfin
Featured by: betwixtthepages

Untitled by harraku
From the suggester: I think this piece 
captures that place when a relationship ends 
and you're still trying to figure out what happened.
Suggested by:LiliWrites
Featured by: chromeantennae

Choices by miserabel
Suggester says: An interesting 
take on a controversial issue.
Prose
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Journal
Weekly Round-up!
This Week's Features
:star:
Advertising To Children - Debate Notes by lizru
"Advertising is everywhere you look. From the books on your desk and the clothing you wear to the music you listen to and the stuff you watch on TV. It’s no different for children."
This clear, succinct article delves into the many-faceted realm of advertising, and the effects it may be having on younger minds, whether we realise it, or not.
:star:
The Rabbit's Hole | Paint It Red by Gingersanps
Her murderer was an artist.
“It’s not the Queen of Hearts,” she said standing. “We’ve got a copycat.”

This story puts a fresh spin on an old tale. Meet Detective Alice McGee, and join her on the hunt for the infamous serial killer, the Queen of Hearts. Where will the investigation lead her next?
:star:
<strong>
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Literature
float on
now I'm thinking
that the moon's smarter than me:
she's in love with the earth
but keeps her distance,
keeps moving,
keeps living.
I lose my orbit
when you're not around,
and I find myself without gravity,
waiting for you all night
when I know you'd rather be
somewhere else.
:iconlittleblueraccoon:littleblueraccoon
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Critiques

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deviantID

miserabel
unusually normal
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
Switzerland
So, hi. I'm a girl. I like using fancy words. And Oscar Wilde.

Rule no. 1: Give a llama - get a llama! :iconllamacopterplz:
Because llamas are awesome.

my wonderful cheshire-icon was made by Herzlose

I appreciate all favs and comments, even though I do not always thank for them. So instead, have a collective thank you here:

:party: :iconthanksplz:
Interests

Activity


I fell in love with a boy
who adored me, madly-deeply-truly
but he was so afraid of happiness

that he locked me out
on a cold winter's night

("it's for the best," he said,
and my fingers were clammy-cold,
my eyes itching, my throat sore,

if sadness is a little bit like dying
then I met death that night)

these days my heart is a jigsaw puzzle
and I'm still sorting out the pieces;
but no, I'm not angry right now -
you couldn't risk happiness

(I don't understand it at all
but I understand
you pushed me away
only so you'd never feel the pain

of losing me)

happiness terrifies you,
so you chose misery
and misery turned the key
to the lock of your heart

there's no space for me there;
I'm outside, and I am cold

but I'll rekindle a fire, sooner
or later, I'll find my step again,
I'll dance until sad songs don't
make me wanna cry

I'm lost, I'm Dorothy,
this isn't Kansas anymore
and you say you're missing
your heart your brain your courage

(you're an idiot, but you have a brain;
you said no to love, but you have a heart;
you gave up without a fight--

so indeed, courage you lack,
my cowardly lion)

misery you chose
and misery you got;
you are grieving (again)
and I wish I'd learned not to care, but -

(it's a work in progress)

- I'm still outside, looking in,
not moving to move you

I cannot help you, who denied my help
back when my heart was opening up
like a flower to the sunlight
at your touch -

you chose this

you chose the tears,
the hopelessness, and you chose
to be alone and not let me in again

(now you deserve the suffering;
it shouldn't pain me so to watch;
you got what you wanted)

"it's for the best," you said,
and the sad thing is, I think
you believe it, too
grieve for your former love
Grieve for me a little while.

1 am on Valentine's Day 2017. I'm okay I'm okay I'm okay-- or maybe I'm not, but I'll get there, and that's close enough.

I'm okay. Keep shipping yourself with misery; I'm way too tired of trying to make you stop, of hearing that I don't understand your grief, or that I could never ever help you, because you have to do this alone. You idiot.
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you're everything

a black hole consuming my heart
(my life, my universe)

you're the blood under my fingernails
the dirt and tears I rub out of my eyes

you're a black hole
swallowing my star

you were everything
and could've been
so much more

you're nothing
but regret
to me
now
you swallowed me whole
I have this lying around since December 2013, and I honestly forgot what it is about, but damn. It's pretty.
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i. anxiety

my field of vision narrows down
while the world around me grows big and bigger
I am a tiny particle on a giant's playground;
I forget to breathe

ii. stress

another deadline hits me in the face;
I cannot stop my nose from bleeding,
and I do not have the time, there is no time,
never any goddamn time--

iii. loneliness

why is nobody helping me? you could
just be here; breathe; be present - if only
I wasn't alone, this would be easier, if only
I could talk to someone, if only

iv. fight

look the monsters straight in the eye;
face discomfort, your fears and insecurities
the longer you look, the smaller they become
let go, and so will they, breathe, breathe

I'll be fine
I can do this, I'll be fine
I'll be fine (monsters in my head)
13.2.2017.

I read a quote the other day which resonated deeply with me:

"By learning to allow different types of discomfort to simply stay in the room with you, without your scrambling for a button to push, you make discomfort matter less. The pool of things you’re afraid of shrinks. It becomes a lot less important to control circumstances, because you know you can handle moments of uncertainty or awkwardness or disappointment without an escape plan." - David Cain
Today I struggled, thought of this, and realised that I don't need an escape (which was my first go-to; run!). I need to slow down, and look at how I feel. I found it's not as insurmountable as it looks at first glance. I do not have to roll over and surrender to the feeling of "life is pointless, and then we die". I can do this. Breathe. I'll be fine.

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3 days ago, the following phrase
had me choked up and in tears:
"Everything is as it should be."

My subconscious had been wailing at me for weeks, I think.
But that day, I listened for the first time -
everything wasn't as it should be.

You were not around;
hardly talking to me;
you had time and energy for others, though -
busyness and mental health started looking like excuses.

I guess I knew what would happen; but I'm an optimist, my dear.
Before you made me sob my heart out,
I never once let go of hope.


2 days ago, I asked you to talk about us. I told you I needed clarity - about us.

Clarity is not what you gave me.
You gave me an inventory of your pain, and cited it as a reason
for you being momentarily incapable of love.
You told me that I could never help you; that you
HAVE TO DO THIS BY YOURSELF.

You told me that you couldn't handle even thinking of love. That you weren't ready.
                                     You, who pursued me -
                                     stubbornly -
                                     for months, the year before,
                                                weren't ready.

"I'm not going anywhere", you said, but I couldn't reply.
My heart was cracking open.

"I am just sad," I told you, and you -

"I hate that you feel this way."



I was crying all night.
I got little sleep.



1 day ago, I woke up with a heavy heart and a lungful of rage.


I wished you regret for what you did to me.
What you did to me was red -
red like love
       red like blood
              red like anger.
It was blowing yourself up
with me standind right next to you -
the blast threw me back, shrapnel tearing through my chest.

I wished to tell you, "hey -
                                fuck you."
But I said nothing at all.

That day, I didn't cry. I was filling myself up with anger to a point where there was no space left for
                                                                                                                    t e a r s.

I wished you regret.
And I was oh-so-tired.


Today, my anger was like the tide,
      swelling to a roar and quietening to a small murmur
                in turns.

I think you are a hypocrite,
   hurting me in the name of pain, because you said,
     "people who put me first get hurt."

You broke my heart now so I wouldn't end up hurting later?
                                       Oh, shut up.

It was not your mental health that pushed me away. That was YOU.

Take some fucking responsibility for this pointless pain -
this pain that I'm only in because you have to tear apart your chances at happiness -
for if you let yourself be happy once,
      you run the risk of losing it again.

     How do you love someone so hell-bent on self-sabotage?
     How do you love someone incapable and unwilling to let you close enough
                                                                   so you could actually help?

You pushed me away, and my heart, it shattered.
A heartbreak a year, if I keep going like this.

A part of me
- and this part is BITTER like the taste on your tongue after eating an entire lemon's peel -
can't help but think you've been preparing for this since December '16.

     Then, you fucking told me I couldn't be your S.O. yet because
     you felt you were hard to love and I didn't know your bad days yet.

                                                  Bullshit.


I thought I could wait you out, that you would come around,
I let you know I love you every day, and often you did not respond.
But I thought if I could prove to you that I would stick around
- that your mental illnesses ain't scaring me -
you'd see reason.

You'd be mine.

Obviously, I was wrong. You sat back, prepping to cut me out of your life without talking to me,
letting me run into WALL AFTER WALL with my reassurances, my support,

                                I might as well have yelled words of love
                                    and encouragement down a sewer
                                       for all the GOOD it did.

You have been deaf to me for weeks.
    Hardly bothering to pretend you gave two shits.

I was stupid and in love; I didn't see it.
The world looked bright and the future hopeful.
Now, I don't know what to make of it.

How unfair you are! And to tell me this -
              "I'm not going anywhere" -
to insinuate you'll love me again sometime later (but oh, not right now!)
after you staked me right through the heart!
All this hurt, and this pain, and this struggle I'm dealing with now,
for an 'but oh, maybe I'll be your love again later on' --

I want to tell you to go to hell;
I've enough anger stowed up to pull it off -
but the wounds are too fresh. And I still
remember the good days,
when you actually gave a crap about my emotions
instead of trying to use the pretext of caring about them as an excuse
to throw me to the wolves.

See, I think we could've been good, and that had you terrified.
The choices you left me with are to either burn myself to the ground -
follow your example and self-destruct -
or let you go. I have to let you go.

I am not entirely certain I want to, but I will get there. This isn't stronger than I am.

You have hurt me badly. I will hold this against you.
    And I r e f u s e to be your "MAYBE".
       This is no way to treat a Queen.

I cannot be yours.
And I won't be.

My head and heart are calmer now, but that has not pulled a stop to bitter anger.
I feel silly, for believing you could be different with me.
But love is blind
and I loved, I love... you.

From these feelings, I'll have to distance myself.
You did the same a good while ago, didn't you?
If it is misery you chase,
    C O N G R A T U L A T I O N S -
you succeeded in ruining something good before it got really started,
you set fire to a beautiful ship before it left the harbor.

Now here's another reason for you to be sad.
Feel free to wallow all you want.

A couple days ago, you told me your life had no more space for heartbreaks.
I wonder; is this not heartbreak to you?
Because it should be.

You told me you loved me, many times,
and now I'm about to walk out on you.

How can your heart not be breaking?
    How could you consider it to be better to just give us up,
               instead of giving us a chance?

You told me once I didn't understand your grief. But the part that forever puzzled me more than your grief
was the way you clung to every terrible thing that happened or may happen to you,
wrapping it around yourself like Earth's heaviest blanket.
What puzzles me is the way you blame and doubt yourself
on every step you take.

How you shackle yourself to the past,
unable to let go of a room filled with things
that hold nothing more than bittersweet sadness.

Why did you claim to have fallen in love with the sun,
     when you cannot stop huddling yourself into shadows?

This I will never understand; but it is not the part that I hold against you.

What I hold against you is you rolling over and giving up,
telling me some bullshit about keeping me from getting hurt
while breaking my heart. What I'm holding against you
is the unfairness of it all, and the way you couldn't give a good thing a try.

What I'm holding against you is your stupid phobia of happiness,
and letting it make you shit all over my feelings.

     You need to get yourself sorted out, my love.
           And fuck you for not letting me help when I wanted
                                          nothing more.


Tomorrow, I'll be gone for good.

1st of February (Wednesday)
It feels like you don't even realise what you did to me, and how dare you, really. How dare you to not see it.

The first draft of this I wrote in ink, on paper. I did some (minor) cleaning up, but it still feels raw and unrefined to me.

Honestly, I think it has to feel like this. Raw and unrefined like the emotions it is trying to convey.

It features bad language (not really enough, I feel, to slap on a mature content filter, but eh), and probably more emotions than is healthy for anyone to read. This is a piece that demands to be read out loud; at least to me, the demand feels louder than usual. And reading it out loud I did, a couple times. Maybe I'll record something at some point; I don't know if I feel confident enough for that.

If you feel like reading it out loud and record it, please do! And show me! :rose:
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You saw right, I am a mean queen,
a true heartbreaking machine -
but you understand no thing;
I'll have my tortures teach you a song to sing.

Pain you know and pain you cause
and from the ashes, not a phoenix rose,
but a hellhound; my anger's metaphors
hiding in your kitchen's shadows.

I will hunt you down, I will have you on your knees
listen to you beg for sweet, sweet release -
but you burned me love, you deserve these tears
you deserve counting your regrets until your voice disappears.
the bard sings of the mean queen
"Have you heard of the mean queen?
Her lovers were beheaded to the song of a violin..."

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Comments


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:icontheevilovelords:
TheEvilOvelords Featured By Owner Jan 31, 2017  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks for joining our group! :D
May we be graced by your presence for a long time :meow:

Sakurai Amy
Founder of The Writer Gang
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:iconcookiebearkitten:
cookiebearkitten Featured By Owner Mar 29, 2015  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thank you for the llama~ :iconrubcheeksplz:
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:iconmiserabel:
miserabel Featured By Owner Mar 29, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
You're very welcome! :D
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:iconcomatose-comet:
comatose-comet Featured By Owner Mar 23, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
thanks for the fave :rose:
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:iconmiserabel:
miserabel Featured By Owner Mar 23, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Or: thank you for sharing your fabulous writing! :ahoy:
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:icongata-art:
Gata-Art Featured By Owner Mar 22, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks so much for the llama! Llama Emoji-02 (Blush) [V1]  Have a llama back! Llama Emoji-03 (Sparkles) [V1] 
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:iconcomatose-comet:
comatose-comet Featured By Owner Sep 28, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you again for the critique :heart: :hug:
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:iconmiserabel:
miserabel Featured By Owner Sep 28, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
:blush: psh it was but one critique, you don't need to thank me more than once~
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:iconcomatose-comet:
comatose-comet Featured By Owner Sep 28, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Also thank you so much for the watch too Danisnotonfire: FEELS 
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:iconmiserabel:
miserabel Featured By Owner Oct 2, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
My pleasure! :blowkiss:
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