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I'm trying to keep myself steeled away these days. You may privately ask me who I am. Pretty words aren't my forte. about. browse posts. ask. some favorite writers.

[syllables]

after asters

[ syllables ] 2018

[syllables]

have to watch my step

when you tiptoe, it's easy

to lose your footing

[courcel]

But you are my nomad and I love you sideways daily. Sideways because I have to beam my love in all directions, hoping it bounces off something and eventually finds you.

Richard Siken, from The Long and Short of It (via courcel)

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

I am aware, sure, I am aware. Catastrophically aware.

Sylvia Plath, from The Unabridged Journals Of Sylvia Plath (via mitochondria)

[aseaofquotes]

Miranda July, “It Was Romance”

[syllables]

the bass is one with the wind, and I can’t tell your insides apart from this road. I’ll peel back every single layer of you until you’re upside down and inside out, and then I will love you the way you were meant to be loved.

(all over.)

[syllables]

the pub is warm and you smell like spice and cedar.

you turn to me with whiskey souring your tongue, sideways smirking like you’re something sly, but your hand’s already found my ass.

“you’re mine,” you bluff, bolstered up by a liquid ego. you’ll never quell your thirst, but so long as it’s still april,

this pub is still warm and my mouth craves for cinnamon.

[haleyincarnate]

Some nights your memory crawls into bed with me. Wraps its arms around my waist familiarly. Drains the blood from my veins so easily. Kisses the back of my neck like I still mean everything. Treads the rivers in my lungs carefully. I know, I know. I’m sorry. I never meant to ruin your city.

i can still see light in your ruin // Haley Hendrick

[ndsderpsters]

Need OTP Prompt Blogs?

I see that we all like OTP prompts here. Here’s a list of blogs. Some blogs I found from this post. Some are active; some are inactive. Some have “not safe for work”, some don’t. If you see an 18+ by a blog, I do not condone minors to follow. In fact, if a blog has mature content (like 18+), I do not condone minors to follow! If one of you has these blogs and want it taken down, feel free to inbox me. Add your own blog, too! Have fun!

au-gallery

auseverywhere

cutiepieprompts

fuckyeahotpprompts

fyotpprompts

ideas-prompts-otps

imaginensfwoah (More of an “imagine your favorite character” blog, but maybe good for prompts? I’d ask first. NSFW 18+)

imaginetheotp

imagineyourotp

imagineyourotpheaven

imagineyour-otp

imaginyourotp

land-of-the-otp-prompts

letsimagineotps

macroni-and-tease (Specifically macrophilia)

micro-nope-zone

mistletoeprompts

one-true-pairing-prompts

onetruepairingideas

otpandocprompts

otpdisaster

otpimagine

otpimagines

otpisms

otpmemeprompts

otpoftheday

otppromptchallenge

otppromptinator

otpprompts

otpwishlist

otprompt

otp-feels-

otp-ideas

otp-ot3-imagines

otp-your-imagine

otp–prompts

promptsfordays

promptsforotps

promptsofthewriting

reimagineyourotp

relatableotpfeels

sera-prompts

shittyaus

startrekotpprompts

sweet-horns

the-otp-feels

thoughts-unrated-fc (Another imagine your favorite character blog, but still good in my book! NSFW 18+)

ultimate-au-ideas

unlimited-otp-prompts

woah-au

yourfavotpprompts

yourfuckedupotp

yourotpandababy

yourotpprompts

yourotpwithpets

[syllables]

I freeze at night thinking about the way another person’s hips might’ve felt pressed against mine in the dark  if I could remember anything.

I freeze all day every time a person calls my name, because it sounds so different  now that he’s said it in his sleep.

To keep myself warm, I tightly wrap myself in blankets  neatly sewn together with contempt.

[syllables]

Sometimes while you slumber, your skin begins to crawl with clams And your breathing hiccups and shallows as if you are about to drown.

You clutch at me, And I carefully wake you from your quiet terrors.

I stay awake so that I can ward off the demons that try to haunt you in your sleep.

You may think that you are blanketed with bruises and covered in scrapes, But when I look at you, I see Nothing less than a snoring miracle.

[syllables]

It’s Friday night, and I’m kind of drunk, and this is the most I’ve ever hated you.

Which is impressive,

because it’s also the most I’ve ever missed you.

[syllables]

working title: I know what it’s like to be the bad guy.

you no longer have an ax to grind because it’s buried in my back.

the last words you ever spoke to me, back when you didn’t spit my name with venom and cringe at the thought of my tiny, pale hands in yours, were about how

I’d broken you.

You worse-than-hated me; you regretted me.

And even thought I deserved the blade (and any poisons that came with it), I wasn’t prepared for its serrated edges, or the way you were aiming directly through my ribcage.

I had never meant to hurt you, and I’m still so sorry about the way it all went down; that way you and I

went down.

Years later, the first time you’re not too embarrassed to even step foot in the same state as me, you look at me with a face that screams of quiet contempt as you allow me to approach you at the bar.

I ignore the occasional bitter remark and its matching sweet smile, and I tell you with more honesty than I’ve ever given you

that I’d like to “catch up sometime”,

if that’s something that you’re cool with.

Your face turns red and you swear to me on everything that you’d love that.

With all that we’ve been though, I know that I should be able to hand you the noose and trust you not to use it, but somehow, babe,

I know you’ll end up leaving me hanging.

[syllables]

the sun has just fallen somewhere behind the plane I’m on, and it feels like I’m chasing the moon, running head-first towards tomorrow and flying desperately away from yesterday (quite literally) .

I can’t see the ground anymore, and the altitude is causing an ache in my head half as intense as the one in my gut that won’t go away ‘til I’ve fully crossed over Ohio and Michigan

so that I can finally forget you again.

I’m terrified of the nighttime and the terrors that it brings, but still I beg for the sleep I barely get, and still I sprint towards the east coast at 400 miles an hour, and away from a potential (theoretical) sunset paradise. 

I may be ten thousand feet above sea level, but I’m drowning in guilt.

[syllables]

“Sometimes you just have to let go,” my dad quotes from the movie we’ve been watching since seven.

With his perfect blues, he fells me that he thinks about my mom every time he sees the scene where the old man is wheeled out to see the sunset before he dies.

[syllables]

Finally falling down from last summer’s high, and on the way down, all I can see is a ghostly sophomoric smile.

Your primary skill has always been your disappearing act, and over the seasons, I’ve quietly learned to love it.

While you’re around, you’re the whispers of every haunting, chilling, nostalgic tune that you always have been. The treble turns to memory, and then to trouble; you’re all the top songs of the topical alternative generation, and everything comes rushing. While you’re around, I could never forget the words.

And then you go, and it feels like I’ve fallen asleep for autumns at a time. Your seas kiss my months a short, sweet goodbye, and I’m lost in the mist. You’re not the fog at the top of a mountain; you’re the thick clouds that leave a sailor lost to sirens.

Those lips make me sick. 

[syllables]

only does the moon glow because of the sun.

and just so, i am always grateful for your light.

when you tire out,

when your shine aches from giving so much so constantly,

i'll be here to take over at night.