He/They - 19 - Musician - Poet/Writer - D&D nerd - I love writing little fantasy stories (I want to make more pastoral fantasy stories) and exploring poetry. Feedback is appreciated!!
He/They - 19 - Musician - Poet/Writer - D&D nerd - I love writing little fantasy stories (I want to make more pastoral fantasy stories) and exploring poetry. Feedback is appreciated!!
I like the sky
and the rain
even though my mother past away
on the sofa
we would watch
the droplets against the windows cross
they would slide
just as tears
odd how I have little of that here
last fall
the leaves fell
and the church refused to ring it’s bell
and passing on
to the great unknown
she was bruied under that now mossy stone
Now the rain
it continues to pour...
He’s alone with his thoughts, when he walks. All alone. They speak to him. Asking him for answers. Questions he cannot solve. Even though they’ve been asked dozens of times, he still tempts them.
How do I do the things I do?
When do I know to speak to the ones I love?
Why does the drier spin?
It just spins and spins. In that way where someone has no where to go. No one to be. To see. Like it j...
Oxyura follows her, struggling to keep up with her wide and swift strides, to the back of the monastery, a space where only Nakkamo resides. She leads him softly as her bare feet glide across the stone, snowflakes whishing about in fluttery sweeps. He hesitates to speak a word. Anxiety brushes his stomach.
The white, granite walls conduct them down long chambers full of tapestries, engravings, an...
One day, my father said, someone will look at you the same way you look at the stars. Course Pap was a right; he’d been married several times, as a romantic would, so he knew destiny and all the mystique she had to offer. But, I never suspected that inevitable fate to appear in the form of a telescope peaking out from the neightbor’s window, the sudden glint of a knife, and a hideous smile that fa...
The power of your tears clutches me
Staining your face like blood
And I surrender,
Like southern-bound birds in dying november
That weeping is a distant wildfire
Afar and arousing worry,
Though false as flames go
It grew with an intention unknown
My gentle promise well kept
Through offers of embrace and words warily placed
I was yours to need,
To remove your wild thoughts that persisted like wee...
I knew muddy streets outside siphoned the clustering serfs towards the castle and mannors of Green Street. As rain battered against my scrappy wooden home, I reached for my steak; it was a beam that I sharpened to a fine point the night before. The riots will make them change. It has to.
Joining the crowd outside, my loose tunic becomes soaked from the storm. It’s tight. We pack together tigh...
"I was just trying to be what you wanted."
He turns to him and asks, "Then why weren't you."
The room is cold, as if the vent had leaked her frequent despair; she had always hummed her tune of melancholic tranquility in this room. But, it is quiet now.
Shifting his jaw, Orion chastises, "You have never held my hand or came over when I need you to. I needed you a lot. And, when we'r...