Beatrice

Hi! I’m a growing poet who loves to read (preferably romantasy), write (short story, poems, etc), and play soccer. 🩷✍️📝

Writings

Followers

Following

Beatrice

Hi! I’m a growing poet who loves to read (preferably romantasy), write (short story, poems, etc), and play soccer. 🩷✍️📝

Writings

Followers

Following

The Dead Musicians’ Support Group

Beatrice

2 min read

“_Ugh… my head…_” I murmur, sitting up. Cold concrete beneath me, I stand and look around. Old plaster walls surround me, partially blocked by coat racks and… costumes?

I turn and see giant maroon curtains, almost like the ones on a stage. People dressed in black dart around like desperate ants, yelling into head sets and rearranging set pieces.

I spot Bella, “_Hey, Bella! What’s happening? I t...

Mystery

Action

Kingdom Of Trust

Beatrice

1 min read

Enter my castle,

Bring life to these hollow halls,

Don’t tear it all down…

Please....

Poetry

Dandelion

Beatrice

1 min read

It’s funny,

Everyone loves wildflowers,

The different colors bursting like paint,

Varying heights and changing sizes,

How beautiful in its diversity.

Yet,

They always spot me,

Huddled in a group of petunias,

A weed in the wildflowers,

A _taraxacum,_

Or a dandelion.

I used to make wishes,

Letting my seeds carry dreams,

Leaving me bare and battered,

Plucked from the garden.

I slowly learned the ...

Poetry

Love

Beatrice

1 min read

Some give presents,

Gifts upon gifts,

Gadgets and jewelry and dolls.

Others give hugs,

Kisses and hand-holds and nudges,

Closer and closer.

Even more give time,

They stop to wait and help,

Talking and laughing and listening.

Sometimes,

It’s hard to give.

Gifts cost money,

And there are so many choices.

Hugs can feel stifling,

Sweaty or _too_ close.

Listening takes focus,

And talking means walki...

Poetry

Romance

Dear My Mirror

Beatrice

1 min read

**Dear My Mirror,**

****

**When did you first start to break?**

**When did those first cracks appear,**

**Dancing across your surface like spiderwebs,**

**Splitting the face of the girl you hold?**

****

**I think I recognize her,**

**Maybe before the cracks marred her features,**

**I think she was put together,**

**A level head and strong heart,**

**She knew exactly who she was,**

**And who she wa...

Poetry

Fairytale-Freedom

Beatrice

4 min read

Ella was locked in the attic. Again. She was starting to realize how not many people got locked in dusty rooms and forced to serve their step families. Many actually had functional relationships and had friends.

Gus and the other mice scurried towards her from the cobwebbed corners, and she giggled through her sobs. Madeline had laughed when Ella told her about the chubby mouse who was alway...

Fantasy

Romance

Hoarding Heart

Beatrice

1 min read

My heart is a hoarder,

Collecting little trinkets and doodads,

Finding memories of small moments,

Of quiet giggling,

Of sunny afternoons,

Of chirping birds in the morning,

Of singing crickets in the evening,

Of the way his eyes crinkled at the sides,

Of the way she was always the first to laugh,

Of the way these friends made her feel seen,

Stuffing up to the brim,

Treasuring each like delicate cha...

Poetry

Just A Date Between Enemies

Beatrice

2 min read

“Fancy seeing you here, hmm?” Kiera asks, sliding into the seat across from me. Her hair, redder than the blood I’ve seen her spill, is done up in a fashionable bun. Her ice blue eyes clash with her deep green dress, and it pains me to say but she looked _good_.

“I think we can both agree it’s strange to be face to face without one of us trying to kill the other,” I say, flipping through my me...

Romance

Action

Colorblind

Beatrice

1 min read

When you look at me,

What do you see?

Do you see my sorrow,

More blue then the stormy sea?

Do you see my joy,

Brighter than the midday sun?

Do you see my anger,

Fiery and red as blood?

Do you see my self loathing,

Green as dying grass?

Do you see my love,

Pink like a shy flamingo?

I’m all of these colors and more,

Like a marbled mosaic,

But then why is the world colorblind?...

Poetry

Crazy? I Was Crazy Once

Beatrice

2 min read

Algebra is the worst. I have a math final next period and I’m most likely (more like positively) doomed. I walk into the bland classroom and sit as the bell rings over the speakers.

“Settle down, class today we have a major final for 50% of your overall grade-“ she says, then suddenly the lighting gets weird. The fluorescent lights go red and wash Mrs. Smith’s face blood red. I look to my right, p...

Horror

Action