Discover Top Posts Tagged with #authors favs

brown eyes

5/500

and you are angry. you paint your anger in blues and purples; a smattering of colours mixed together so thoroughly you yourself know not the difference. your fingers leave behind a trail of black and white gold, sparkling and glitter that sears the skin on which it lays waste. you dust your eyes and you squint—and you remember what it feels like, when you are scorned, you have forgotten but you will never be truly alone in that it will never happen again, you learn—

you learn, and you grow. you grow like a bud in the ground after spring has sprung and you are nothing more than a petal and a starved bumblebee ready to drop. you are, alone, in this world where you are surrounded by a colour that is not yours. you scream your frailty in greens and yellows; greens for the healing you have missed, that you have ignored. you ignored the warning signs and the mothering; where you were told to look outside and find exactly what it was you were looking for. you never listened. instead, you lay here, waiting to reclaim your colour. your word that has both never once applied to you, and somehow hit harder home than that hit that made those yellow stars blur.

you stand as white as a blank slate; that is to say, you are white. you just aren’t the pure-bleached-baking-soda-hydrogen-peroxide white, but it makes a difference. to you, it is visible. to others, you cannot say, and perhaps it does not matter. (it matters to you, though.) over time, you find, eyes adjust and you are no more than any other strip of cloth, but you will never feel fresh and you always will feel like the rewashed-refound cycle of appraised dirty water you came from. you will never feel more than the odd habits you have picked up, but you are not those odd habits. you find no place, here.

it was your month, you find, except for that it was not yours, never yours. (and you weren’t there, nonetheless.) the sunset swaths orange and you sigh as you watch the sun set; this, the perfect ideal you will never be able to touch. you shot your shot and now you fall, wings burned and as electrocuting as the thrill you seek in the life given to you. you are—you are something you believe should never had been made, for you lie not in one piece. you are a puzzle that was forged of something truly beautiful, yet here you stand. you, darling, are an assortment of glass melted and reborn, the same as you long for what it is you want: to stand among your own, and to be more than an appearance once in a red moon.

#inkstay #daretowrite #writing #spilled ink #excerpt from a book i'll never write #writeblr #original fiction #drabble #lowercase #prompted #heres some words while i die on nano #authors favs #qwrites

finality

2/500

sit tight, you tell yourself. sit tight because there is no end, you are on a rollercoaster that will never finish and you began this when you were too young but there is no going back. there never is, and you will never remember your youth. youth does not exist, you tell yourself, as the world spins on and the people around you grow old and you do not age a day. you watch monuments fall and you watch leaders change hands and their coins’ travel.

‘live forever,’ they say and it sounds like a blessing but the word does not tell you of what it means to die and to watch others die but to never move on and forget. it does not tell you the pain when you get hit by a truck from oncoming traffic and it does not tell you the pain when your mother passes, nor your father nor your brother. it sounds like a blessing, they say, and you tell yourself that it is nothing more than an existence. it is a truth. it is a finality.

#inkstay #daretowrite #spilled ink #writing #excerpt from a book i'll never write #unedited #drabble #lowercase #immortality #prompted #authors favs #ixwrites #qwrites

one full half

6/500

you tear the wall of the chalkboard, you tear the fingers off the cutting board and the screeching sound once in your head stops. you want to laugh. you are cold. you are quiet, but you never understand why you are always told otherwise. you’re just you. a body filled with bits and pieces you have rejected from day one, since they were introduced. you are just you, you tell yourself. sometimes, it’s not enough.

you, named after the universe that stands before, from you, at your very fingertips—you tell him you feel nothing. you don’t feel the star’s burst and the nebula’s birth, you don’t feel like the whole sum of perfect parts you should be.

“stand,” you hear, and you tell every inch of being in yourself to freeze and disobey. instead, you do as commanded because of the punishments and the foretelling danger that you have learned, that have been instilled deep in your heart, as much as you loathe the feeling that comes with obedience and the backhanded praise that sickens you and—

and you stand, because what else is it, that you can do? you are not the noble cause that was born; you are not the one to be worshipped, the girl that stands alone, unafraid. no, you stand alone and afraid. you stand wounded, you stand punished as every inch of your skin is ripped off, piece by piece, and replaced with deadened metal. you are not the beginning, you are not the dust from the universe’s frail explosion reborn. no, you are the one that stands, bleeding, as she whips the others into submission, only following suit after your misguided dedication and loyalty. you are the one that takes the world by storm as it was commanded because you, darling, forge your future into the one you so dearly seek. you are not the star. instead, you are the starshaper.