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Emily Howarth

″The sun kept setting, setting still; No hue of afternoon Upon the village I perceived,— From house to house ‘twas noon. The dusk kept dropping, dropping still; No dew upon the grass, But only on my forehead stopped, And wandered in my face.“

— Emily Dickinson, Selected Poems of Emily Dickinson

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myfairylily

zakladnicy_codziennosci

Paper Cut

The broken glass shards

Sliver, shiver through

And red rays of sunrise

Spill and bloom, creating,

Spiral into the black

Of her hair as

She runs shattered fingers

Through, the crystals cut

And kiss and she feels

Like the first day of spring—

Cold and uncertain.

#mywriting #jan2nd #writinggoal2018

I waited for a time when I’d be able to make sense of the silence. But it ate me instead. I closed my mouth, opened my arms to welcome it, but still it devoured me. I couldn’t stop it. I wondered if i’d ever stood a chance, if any of my whimpers and pleas for mercy had been anything but wisps of smoke.

Whatever the case they swallowed me whole and refused to spit me out. I was a dead soul eaten alive, and when I escaped the tight grasp of their mottled jaws, my body was aggravatingly whole, unscathed by the sharp teeth that my fears and wonderings had been snagged on. My eyelids were tugged open by a whining scream that refused to subside. The darkness continued to press at my eyes though, as insistent as if they’d never been opened. “

can

can you hear

me

can you hear me”

Icy shards of February air sliced open my dry lips as I tried to respond.

“I can hear

you

i

can”

The voice that escaped my lips was nothing more than a breath of vaporized air, the thin grey wheedling of candle smoke after the infantile flame had been brushed out.

It was not my voice. It was not the voice that had screamed in rage before blasting through palace doors. It was not the voice that had made kings tremble in their diamond thrones and gods flee to other kingdoms. Instead it was the voice I’d always feared, the voice of a last breath, of a dying wish. It was wretched and small.

I closed eyelids over bloodshot eyes.

I couldn’t bear to see what I had become.

Hands carried me away, and this new voice didn’t protest. These new hands didn’t wave and thrash in denial, these new eyes didn’t open. Unlike the old ones, they didn’t care to witness what was outside. What was outside the darkness. Because they already knew it was nothing. There was no light to be had in a world filled with candles. Only flames. Pathetically easy to extinguish.

I’d had enough of fire.

#writing #my writing #just trying this out dont hate me

by Junie Yeonjun Kim

pale/plant

d e l e t i n g f e e l i n g s [listen here}

feelings suck, and sometimes they are so heavy that you don’t know what to do and you feel this raging storm inside. whatever heartbreak or sorrow you may be facing - I hope this can help you.

#maybe later #music

notordinaryfashion

Elie Saab Haute Couture - Backstage

#Fashion

clarisafairchilds

We just found this beautiful behind the scenes photo from HARRY POTTER AND THE PHILOSOPHER’S STONE. Richard Harris and Maggie Smith film one of the first scenes in the film. [x]

#hp #!!