I am a teen writer who is just trying to do some lighter writing in between projects. I appreciate any feedback and enjoy reading any story. I am also still trying to find my style so sorry if I jump between styles in my stories :)
I am a teen writer who is just trying to do some lighter writing in between projects. I appreciate any feedback and enjoy reading any story. I am also still trying to find my style so sorry if I jump between styles in my stories :)
I lost myself. Gave myself over to the lazily ebbing waves and the plasmatic sky, littered with stars, glistening and surging and surrendering. I lay there, afloat in this abyss. The sun bore down on me, its relentless rays baking my parched figure. There was an empty feeling in my heart, hollow. I knew that this time would come, but still I resented it.
There.
Right there.
A knowing.
I could ...
Every now and then, it seemed like she opened her mouth and two voices came out.
The first would caress her breath against the shuddering sails of course canvas. Her whistle-like tone swirled around me, so light that I had to close my eyes just to hear it. On those days I would lounge on the glistening wood, letting the sun’s rays trace down my half-naked body. The lazy ebb and flow of the ocean...
A twisting flower spun and swirled
Sliver straw hair rotated and whirled
Sucker stained lips sang airy tunes
A dazzling spotlight around her grew
Never too much never too less
Always thought she was truly blessed
When her pirouette petals no longer turned
Her sliver straw hair braided not birled
There were less airy tunes
Gliding to the top
Glossy lips smiled
When eyes could not
The spotlight d...
I had a love once. We danced among the velvet roses. We kissed against the weaving wrists of leafy-haired giants. I still remember the day he placed me into that deceiving castle ever so gently. The marble walls stretched high around my satin stature. His god-like face settled above, staring at my sorrow-filled state with cornflower eyes. I still remember the brush of his breath against my maroon ...
Strokes and symbols painted
Stygian slashes danced
Scampering and sautering
Eulogizing and embarking
Stories told
Secrets kept
Love lost
And lives wept
But within that paper
Torn and old
Souls sing as the church bell tolls
You can hear their whispers if you try
Their wailing, screaming and cries
They don’t even utter a final goodbye...
“What is the most ridiculous thing you’ve believed?” asked Alexia in a low tone. Her head rested on my lap, my fingers combing through her patchy bleached hair. We lounged on the fire escape like it was the most prestigious throne, cigarette butts formed our carpet, and empty beer cans our subjects. I tilted my head back and listened to the sanctuary of beating hearts and squealing laughter in the...
In ten years time
I will be a swan dancing on the fanciful stage
In ten years time
I will be a hero slaying monsters with my potent sword
In ten years time
I will be an esteemed citizen bathing in wealth and glory
I now live in ten years time
No fame nor glory
Only ridicule of the fanciful thoughts of my youth
In ten years time
I will thrive in employment
In ten years time
I will construct an ext...
Flames lick the stale air as smoke billows away like crows in flight. My eyes watch the fire fingers reach out higher and higher as I sit cross legged and content under the veil of the tenebrosity. My body was soaked and shivering in the flashing light. Embers pollute the air as the flames twist and turn like dancers on a wooden stage, I see stories in them, the meek beginning growing to a cresce...
I am standing in the sky’s tears. My father’s wool trench coat wrapped snugly around me, however, it is futile against the fleeting needles. I could still smell the faint scent of his cigars lingering on the wool. When I was six he kneeled to me, not quite looking in my eyes, and gave me the bunched-up black parcel. “It suits you,” he said, “Especially at night”. That was the last time I saw him. ...
The fairytale terrain is a masked jester of the belligerent panic and muffled screams in the distance. The forest rattles its leafy hair and shakes its battered bodies. The water grazes its tounges against the creaking canoe and duels against the splintered oar. And still the artist shades the sky with his graphite thumb and the musician sings his whistled tune in the wind.
I would have noticed ...