#emotion

‘we stand here in this wreckage—

scraps of plaster, shards of china, four walls echoing

with rage, and imprinted

with fists, torn as you stand there and tell me

that the dropped tears upon the floor

prove that I am too emotional.’

'anger, the non-emotion,’ - Megan’s Poetry #1269

is it really that difficult to just be straightforward?
cant you just say it all to my face? now i feel like im fucking annoying you
asswipe.
just say it to me straight, i could careless about how the outcome will turn when you tell me the truth
its better than being lied to
despite the stupid ass consequences.
my number one mistake was actually liking you. and this is the price i have to pay for gods addiction of a joke called “love”.
have a good life
ass.

but why is it so out of reach? what makes it to be so far from this limited distance im restricted in?
be direct. tell me face to face.
im not that hard to love, but yet i always love the ones that are hard to chase.

fuck you cupids. i want a significant other, but im impatient. you cant tell me to wait. i just want one persons attention. one persons “love”, comfort, sweet words.

i wont take lies. no matter how hard it has to hit me, let it go. ill take the bullet regardless.

i’m sad and that’s okay

the-poetic-boy:

Thirteenth Time’s the Charm?

It’s been a long and lonely road for U’faeylyn. Time and time again, she’s loved and lost, experienced grief so profound, she thought she may never let her guard down again. She’s built up walls so tall, no one may ever see the tops of them, lost in the mist and clouds.

Untilhe came along.

Alrek was a quiet man, new to The Black Shroud. He came from Ala Mhigo and picked up a position in security at The Winter Rose, where ironically The Desert Rose caught his eye. Instantly, they clicked, spending time in the main hall, bonding over tales of daring and hot cocoa. He embraced her playful nature, and she fell for his charm.

The pair bonded quickly, and she soon found the Highlander to be chipping away at the walls she had worked so hard to erect, to fortify so no man could destroy her heart again. Every laugh, every story, every warm cup of cocoa was like a pickax to the walls surrounding her heart.

Physically, she was drawn to him. His dark olive skin and hair as jet black as her own gave him an air of mystery. Tall, dark, and very handsome, she was hopelessly attracted to him, and him to her. Their bond grew to one of passionate romance, and quickly.

Theoretically, Fae is still diligently working to maintain those walls, gently reminding herself of the terrible pain she’s experienced through the years, how even now, she’s meant to be on her honeymoon with the man she believed she would be with forever. The man that swore he’d never break her heart.

All but ready to give up, she found Alrek. She’s doing her best to stay strong, not to commit herself to any individual to save her the heartache of their inevitable disappearance. Everyone always left. That’s the curse of Fae. She wants someone to love more than anything in the world, but love’s never loved her.

This hasn’t deterred Alrek in the slightest, and he does his best to offer comfort to the kitten, simply wishing to be there for her. Through rain or shine, he’s promised to stand by her. A small part of her wants to believe he’s true, but the pattern of her previous lovers leaves her with little trust in the words of men.

((Screenshots by me!))

it feels like this:

a storm brewing, the salty wind tumbling into your sweat streaked skin as you stand on the edge of the crow’s nest, a scarf wrapped around your throat and your eyes squeezed half close as you look out into the horizon. the boat rocks beneath you, a gentle sway that bucks into a wave crashing over the sides and your heart leaps into your throat as you grip the wood with wet palms.

your fingers slip. you miss. you fall.

it feels like this:

gravity does not work for you. you grip the edges of the bar and there is a whistling in the emptiness of your skull as you swing, the collective breaths of the audience all held in the middle of their throats as they watch, words tucked beneath tongues pressed against teeth as they wait. when the music swells, all you can hear is the flutter of your eyelashes against your cheekbones and you let go, hands uncurling from the bar and for one breathless moment, there is nothing holding you down.

you open your eyes. you breathe. you fly.

it feels like this:

your blood throbs so fast in your veins you think it might be gold flowing under your skin, brilliant ichor glistening in the sun against your temple as you raise your bow, the string catching the edge of broken calluses on your index finger and you hiss out a bitten off curse. the gauntlets bite into the skin on your forearms and the straps of the breastplate are all stained with mud; grains of dirt seep into the hinges and your body groans when you pull your arrow back.

you let go. you watch. you live.

it goes like this:

on christmas morning, you lie awake in bed. sunlight filters in through the window in fits and spurts; the curtain blows out, and you see dustmotes circling the air above you like a cheap angel’s halo. there is a sigh sitting in the base of your throat, just waiting for you to let it out and your fingers reach out for your phone. merry christmas, you think, and consider sending it to the person occupying your thoughts. you open your phone. the message from him is already lying there for you to see.

your heart stops, flutters, and kickstarts with the force of a stampeding parade of elephants.

dappled sunlight dances through my front door

it’s so brightly colored i falter

in my steps towards the kitchen  

the door is wide open even if i remember

slamming it shut just the day before

the hinges rattling against the frame

so sharply it felt like my body

would fall apart along with it

it feels like every joke

that fell flat between us;

every off-bitten curse to hide our frustrations;

every laugh we forced through our perfect lips

i stare at the gold dripping into

the entrance of my house, the copper  

traipsing the same path as stubborn vines

you are very easy to forgive

even if forgiveness sits sour

on the tip of my tongue