"I simply ran out of words."
– A Six Word Story by The Incomplete
If anyone asks you “what’s tomorrow?”
tell them, “Tomorrow is a new day.”
Her laugh birthed stars
and her wanting someone else
Orange is the new crack
I call her my fiancé.
No, I haven’t asked her to marry me, but I somehow know that she’s the one that I’m going to.
I look at her and feel
it’s just a matter of time.
Anonymous said: Your writing is incredible x
What I write are only words that I’ve managed to put together to barely form complete sentences. What makes them worth reading are the personalities and experiences that the readers have. You, dearest readers, are incredible.
A Letter to Persephone
How many lifetimes has it been? Surely a single day can be measured in lifetimes when we apply it to mortals. A mortal’s breath is a precious thing and though it need not apply to us, I still feel its weight. Before you, eons passed in an instant, but now I feel each moment.
This existence will never feel as it once did now that I have your love. Each moment we are together, I am not merely the Lord of the Underworld, I am yours. Every moment apart, I am still yours but from afar. To know that you sit in your gardens while I toil in my realm is hardly bearable. I want to be near you. I want to breathe you in with each breath knowing that we share the same air. So I’ll ask again, how many lifetimes has it been? I need to taste your air once again.
I would burn all the bridges behind me on my way to you so that no one could follow and see the path to your heart, because if you guide me and let me in, no path to it will ever be needed again.
Why have I received so many follows these past few days?
You have the right to save yourself.
all the songs that got you through your seventh grade emo phase.
I was an adult for all of these…
Anonymous said: How old are you?
Old souls in young bodies can hear their hearts break before their bones do.
Come off anon, and I’ll tell you.
Changes in season
and changes of reason
render the wind helpless and bound.
The only breath that blows
comes from the nightingale’s song
as the wind’s savior
is nowhere to be found.
No funeral, no viewing, no nothing.