50% off for a limited time!

Get Core

Theme

Display Mature Content

Suppress AI Content

Get Help and Send Feedback

literature

it was the best of times

Deviation Actions

calliopen

Published: Oct 23, 2016

476 Views

Literature Text

i saw you the other day in a swirl of lavender
whirling through like my dreams
and my heart, it gave a tug
it gave a rustle a shiver i
stood breathless for a split
eternity

i feel as if i will never love anyone
the way i looked at you

(regardless, i no longer dream)

More by calliopen

Recommended Literature

Literature

Things they don't tell you.

Things they don’t tell you about losing your grandfather on a Tuesday night: When you wake the next morning, you still need to get out of bed in time for work, you still have to shower, dress yourself, eat breakfast, brush your teeth and hair; and when your mother calls to check in, you have to comfort her because she lost her dad last night; and when you call your grandmother your voice cannot waver lest you upset her, because she lost a man she's known for seventy years and even though she would never hold it against you, you still feel obligated not to cry;

Literature

...but nobody came.

one. you will wake up in the morning, when the day is fresh. you may not recall the way you fell but you will feel your flesh, slick with dew and aching. you will not see the sun conquer the horizon. it has beat you down and out, like passion's flame. two. you will shatter at the mention of remembrance. at the ankles, you will glass and crash accordingly. you were built for this, the pressure of existence. you recall that you were told you could do it all. three. night will not welcome you. you will call out to windows and thunder out desperate text. there will be times that the dark grins. its teeth are stark white. four. it will

Literature

cynical: arsenical

splinter-thorn boy, it will all start to d i s i n t e g r a t e beneath you you are the least beautiful way to unravel - all maggot-rot, no split-thread, no ribbon-torn boy an architect of self-abuse; a god of ru(i)n(n)ing [away] & no: there is nothing holy about you

Suggested Collections

Poetry

Literature

dreamer

by all the gods, is she lovely— the sweetest lullaby i have ever heard. and her fingertips soothe this raging nightmare which roars inside, a decaying dragon that one too many knights have slain. if i could worship at her feet i would. alas, her temple is guarded by pale clouds and a witch's moonlight; only ravens may find their way into her tower and break her chains with a featherweight kiss. i do not feel her embrace every time the darkness whispers. no, it is only when the ice in my veins burns hotter than the sun and my voice is lost in the supernova that hides itself behind a black hole. it is only then that she is there,

Literature

You are More.

You are more than a number, statistic or fraction, You are more than a stranger’s glance or reaction. You are more than a puzzle piece or a missing link, You are more than what the world may think. You are more than a stigma or sign which you're labeled, You are more than “special”, diseased, different, disabled. You are more than a whisper, you are more than a name, You are more than rejection, you are more than others' blame. You are more than vibrations that torture your ears, You are more than disorder that drives you to tears. You are more than emotion you can't read or display, You are more than the words you’

Literature

Beautiful Disaster

You came to me- a sinner with wild eyes and saw me as an angel. I had flowers in my hair, you had blood on your hands. You saw my love as a halo circling my flyaway hair and thought my forgiveness to be wings that could lift my frail body into the air. But I got down next to you on hands and knees and showed you the slits in my soul, the imperfections marring my body. Yet you still looked at me with wonder in your eyes saying my heart was still more pure than a human's would be. And slipping my small hands in between yours blood slid between them, staining my hands along with yours and I promised you I'd save you if you saved me, too. A

Poetry

Literature

A Letter For A Deceased Mother

Dear Mother, A glance at my calendar, much to my distress, right now these feelings, I must confess. It's Mother's Day once again and my heart is filled with sorrow, that may never mend. I'm trying to make it through today without tears this year, just like all the rest of the years. I sit here to dwell and morn with what once was had, has now been forever torn. This day never ceases to remind me how I'm without and fills me with an overflowing doubt. Makes me regret how little the days with you were spent and I ponder where all those precious memories could have went. If only I knew back then what I know now and my life, the knowledge,

Literature

Family Tree

If we're tied together by blood then I'm anemic Coughing up the words I swallowed for years like I'm bulimic The bird still bears the stumps where you severed off its wings I bet you'd chop down a tree just to count all its rings If you keep breaking branches you don't think belong There will be nothing left for you to cling on Have fun falling to your death

Literature

epitaph

the girl i did not run over looks at me with eyes that say that i am part of the problem, when i could have been her solution, looks at me like she’s blaming me for swerving away, like she’s measured every one of her steps from her door to the curb, and i am the one thing she failed to account for. i almost double back to try and tell her all the same things that i have been told but i do not. her feet are too heavy, by now. her stomach too hollow. she does not need more empty words to swallow, she does not need stop signs or yield signs or ‘for the love of god think of everyone you are leaving behind’ signs. i do no

Literature

FridgePoetProject on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/fridgepoetproject/art/The-Daily-Magnet-344-BOP-593563376FridgePoetProject

FridgePoetProject on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/fridgepoetproject/art/The-Daily-Magnet-325-589689069FridgePoetProject

Literature

dear lover

please make sure that my funeral has sunflowers and that they serve champagne and everyone leaves with a party favor and please make sure you wipe tears away with a handkerchief that smells like tea olives so you can remember the taste of our first kiss, sweet with a hint of something new promise me that the first day sunlight feels like honey on your skin youll go outside and forget about me, as long as on days blanketed in flannel gray youll stay warm and read my favorite book when you feel wind in your hair think of my fingers and when you see dandelions sprouting through cracks in the pavement please remember how i smiled for you

im a fucking mess
i saw the girl i was in love with for three years and she was so beautiful and i didnt think about her for a while but now i cant stop thinking about how i held her hand and braided her hair and the sad way she smiled when i confessed to her
how do i turn off my emotions

this poem makes no sense. im sorry