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Literature Text
The pen seems to pour out my heart
Exposing my soul for all to see
Flinging caution to the wind
With the words "Just do it" on my lips
Letting the world see my art
The 'world' being a select few
Because I'd rather cause a reaction
Than for millions of views
I want to make someone smile
To read my stories and cry
But I'm afraid someone will read
My pulsing heart on paper
And not feel a thing.
Walk on and forget
What I've written
Fear grips my being because I feel-
I'm a writer body and soul
Like nothing else can apply to me
That being a writer isn't an occupation
It's a way of living
And without the words
Running through me
I couldn't ever breath
I would suffocate
Being someone I am not.
Forced to wear mask after mask
Because it's not practical.
And it deeply
Scares me
My words mean nothing
Is what I'm afraid one day
Someone will actually buck up and say
Because I've known for a while
I'm a fading voice drifting on
The never ending wind
But at least I'm a voice
And when I see the papers
Scattered across my room
That is proof that I was here
That I felt
That I existed
That I was a writer.
And nothing can take that away.
Exposing my soul for all to see
Flinging caution to the wind
With the words "Just do it" on my lips
Letting the world see my art
The 'world' being a select few
Because I'd rather cause a reaction
Than for millions of views
I want to make someone smile
To read my stories and cry
But I'm afraid someone will read
My pulsing heart on paper
And not feel a thing.
Walk on and forget
What I've written
Fear grips my being because I feel-
I'm a writer body and soul
Like nothing else can apply to me
That being a writer isn't an occupation
It's a way of living
And without the words
Running through me
I couldn't ever breath
I would suffocate
Being someone I am not.
Forced to wear mask after mask
Because it's not practical.
And it deeply
Scares me
My words mean nothing
Is what I'm afraid one day
Someone will actually buck up and say
Because I've known for a while
I'm a fading voice drifting on
The never ending wind
But at least I'm a voice
And when I see the papers
Scattered across my room
That is proof that I was here
That I felt
That I existed
That I was a writer.
And nothing can take that away.
Literature
A Flower Blooms
Love is a mysterious thing; an undefinable, unquantifiable enigma, that could parade in plain sight and yet remain as elusive and unfathomable as the deepest of life’s unanswerable questions.
Or at least, that’s how it felt to her.
It seemed like all around her people were pairing off. Strangers reached out a hand and clasped one another, a connection made. Acquaintances altered their course, diverting so as to intercept and intermingle. The hugs of friends softened and slowed, feelings intensifying, intertwining limbs lingering tenderly…
Yet she remained an island.
She didn’t know what was wrong with her, if there
Literature
how to kiss well.
1. start by kissing the
mirrror|rorrim
look at yourself
in the iieyesiii
and hope
that the person
on the other side
is narcissus
emerging from out of the
tidepools to greet himself
' hey wyd lol '
like how your ex-boyfriend
came out of the blue to
mix with your yellow and
become repulsive like the
green you two used to be
2. call up your abuser
ex girlfriend,
ex boyfriend,
someone that
Literature
butterflies.
I dreamt about your
hands again last night;
one sat politely on the edge
of my waist as you pulled
me tightly against you,
your fireside warmth
leaving me lightheaded
and breathless for more
of your tender touch--
I woke up with the bitter taste of regret
sitting on my tongue
but I brushed my teeth and started my day
hoping
that i’d forget the feeling of your fingers
on my skin but the butterflies
that you left
t r e m b l i n g
in the hollow spaces of
my belly stayed,
even as day turned to
night and I felt the tug of sleep
at the corners o
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Comments2
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Aaaa that's beautiful 
I can't offer any consolation (I'm a pretty bad friend lol), but I'd say write for writing's sake
Even if we may not remember the exact words we've read, everything we read I feel leaves some kind of impression upon us. We may show you our opinions, but whether you get better or worse is based upon YOUR standards, not ours.
Alright, that's all the philosophy I can pull out of the bucket. You're doing fine, and keep up the good work!
I can't offer any consolation (I'm a pretty bad friend lol), but I'd say write for writing's sake
Even if we may not remember the exact words we've read, everything we read I feel leaves some kind of impression upon us. We may show you our opinions, but whether you get better or worse is based upon YOUR standards, not ours.Alright, that's all the philosophy I can pull out of the bucket. You're doing fine, and keep up the good work!