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jugendliche.i.) die Bekennende
Du bist meine Liebe, meine Engel in der Nacht.
Die Sonne scheint so hell fuer uns, du kuesst mich und sagt,
"Kannst du bitte halt mein Hand?"
Ich kuesse dich, weil ich weiss ich kann.
Ich hoffe, du weisst, du bist wirklich schoen.
Alles, ich kann sagen ist "ich brauche dich so gern."
Meine Liebe fuer dich ist sehr gross, ich bitte zu sein.
Immer Ihren Liebling, damit du mein sein.
ii.) die Sehnsucht
Sie ist so viel staerker als ich.
Sie leuchtet den Raum und ich fuehle mich
Als wuerde ich tiefer fallen in der Liebe.
Ich denke, das sind Liebhaber oder Taschendiebe?
Aber sie ist so anders, so perfekt und Art ist.
Es scheint, sie fühlt sich nicht Zwist.
Ich will nur ihre Hand zu Halten,
Aber das ist nicht etwas, was ich ganz einfach verwalten.
Sie hat eine andere, obwohl sie liebt mich mehr
Und ich weiss, ich liebe sie ebensosehr.
A Little Bit Like Crazy: Chapter 4.1chapter four
“is astrid your girlfriend?” keillan asked me unexpectedly at our breakfast. i nearly choked on my chocolate milk.
“what the heck, kiddo?” i tried to laugh but it just came out really uncomfortable sounding. “of course she isn’t.”
“well, was she?” his insight never ceased to amaze me. his eyes were large and intent, as if he’d thought about this for a long time.
“what even would make you think that, keillan?” i appeared composed. it was still way too soon for me to answer questions about astrid. “you’ve known me your whole life. that’s the most peculiar thing to ever come out of your mouth.” i was avoiding eye contact. keillan’s got this way of making you feel totally at ease with even the most uncomfortable of topics. i guess it’s a good trait to have.
“okay, you guys are always talking about
A Little Bit Like Crazy: Chapter 3.1Chapter Three
The only person that was at home when I arrived back was my sister Brinley, a spoiled fifteen-year-old with a penchant for making my life miserable. She was lying on the sofa Daisy Buchanan-style, sprawled lazily reading a fashion magazine.
“You’re home late,” she grumbled, not even having the decency to lift her eyes from the gossip column. “How was your drunken rave last night?” Her words were dripping with sarcasm, a smirk on her lips. She genuinely repulsed me.
“You didn’t,” I spat gruffly in her direction, wide-eyes full of anger. “You did not see anything.” I was terrified, not that she had seen, but that she had shown our parents.
“Au contraire, my dear sister,” she chuckled nonchalantly. “I especially liked the one of you smashing a beer bottle into Mrs. McCartney’s heirloom china vase.”
“Brin, you wouldn’t dare,
fresh.don't look at me.
every time you do i see her.
you look just like her, but
shorter thinner sweeter
younger. you are so much younger.
you're nowhere near as naive.
innocent is not in your expansive
vocabulary. your voice is both
agonizing and intoxicating.
we used to lie next to each
other, hold hands and harmonize.
you held me when i cried
and laughed at my cheesy jokes.
now you have gone. you don't
even speak to me, no choral context.
but you look at me. and you smile.
and you make me feel so fresh,
don't ever leave my side.
a memoir of a butterfly.her memory is like a dead mockingbird.
something so beautiful, but remnants
scatter in the wind, unable to
comprehend whether it was deserved
perishing or a mistake.
will you remember in twenty
years, or twenty months, twenty
goddamn seconds, or will she
fade like the fluttering feathers
of the bird shot down in anguish?
can you kiss yourself goodnight
because her butterflies will never
again land on your fleshy lips?
laugh to keep from crying, cry
to keep for being numb,
pretending her presence was
that of a ghost inside a dream.
cover your wrists in gauze and
guilt to prevent moral infection,
feign disinterest when she bites
her lips, don't crave to be the
one biting back, because you'll
only be chewing yourself out.
don't look directly at her, she
is a sapphic eclipse, tease
me with your sloping neck,
tease me with your impeccable
jawline, hazel eyes and
crooked nose, a sweet breathiness
achieved by her trembling,
raspy alto, how i want to
press my mouth to hers and utter
the cure for romantic epilepsy is you.lighthearted heartthrobs
leave me tenderhearted for
the moment, callously discarded
when the brokenhearted relapses
occur and my heartache is just
a simple subtraction amongst
the breakage and blood pumping.
can you heal me? can you heal you?
do you know how to divide me
into the good, the bad, and the
parts that get too clingy?
can you tell me what it is
that keeps you clinging?
your body is like a metronome,
and i just want to move
to your tempo, you envelope
me with your beautiful
lyricism and lips like a rose.
hands hold like roping soliloquies
of the what-ifs and what-nows,
they're clenching like we're
on a roller coaster and i just
want to hold on to you, if
i could kiss you would i be
considered lucky or a casualty?
i want to peruse the inky pages
of your loitered soul, picking
up the pieces because something
as beautiful as you doesn't
deserve to be littered.
all i want you to do is stand
near me, not even next to me,
because the glow of your glower
is gorgeous even in your mos
drowned.this ice is getting thinner
and i keep feeling like i'm
about to fall through. i just
wanted you to envelope me in
your harmony, sweet kisses
making the syncopation
between broken glass and
heart pieces, shattered
with lips uttering breathlessly.
i wanted to be warmed by
the sound of your melodies,
you told me of my beauties
and i believed you, remember
that my soul is fragile and
that suicide and silence
start and end the same way.
keep in mind when you told
me how much you cared and
how much i hope you realized
at this point the water is
freezing and i can't swim.
love like remission.everybody says that
i'm a specific type. i
think that's just an
excuse to say there's
really no chance i can
ever be loved. keep saying
that i'm beautiful, keep
saying that i'm good.
do you really think i
believe any of that? i'm
trying to turn a new
page, cleanse the wounds
she caused me, and now
i don't know which way
to turn because neither
path is paved for me and
neither door is open. i
wish i could say it was
easy but i can feel it
coming back, steadily like
a creeping animal ready
to pounce on my freshly-
healed heart and soul.
everyone says i have a type.
i believe that in a
heartbeat because each
heart that beats next to
mine is sweet in the melody.
i don't have my choice of
the picking but i can
pretend to be free of this
illness, relapsing on
romanticism and using stoicism
as a crutch, this wall i
put up can be broken down
by whoever's love is strong
enough. someone, take my hand
and lead me through the disease.
Cold Hands, Warm HeartYou spent the day telling me
That I'm hot when I'm cold,
That I look pretty with my hair wet,
That I'm fast in water,
That I'm your little fishy,
As I sped through the river's current.
You cuddled me, hugged me,
I'm finally sure you love me,
And yet I manage to push you away.
You know my hands are freezing cold,
Did I warn you that my heart's the same?
Cold hands, warm heart, I've been told,
I guess for me, it's not the same.
I didn't believe in angels until I met you,
I know you're one.
But not the kind with wings or halos.
Your aura is woven with beams from the sun,
Yet I'm a dark creature, dwelling in shadows.
I'm sorry I got mad at you for a stupid little thing,
And I know my words sting.
I know my hands are freezing, and my heart's the same.
But I love you with a passion, and in my heart is a flame.
SempiternalShe says that
love is like a rose bush,
once you're caught
in its embrace
there is no escaping
for if you try to escape,
the thorns will catch you and
only hurt you more.
She says she will never try to escape from their rose bush.
He makes his vows with another.
The cake is set, the moon is lit,
They found her in a rose bush,
blood flowing out like a river.
Drowned in his love, forevermore.
you tasted like mintI remember the way you stared into my eyes
in the front seat of your car.
Our favorite song was playing on the radio
and you were driving me home in the rain
because I didn't have anyone else who could give me a ride.
You parked your car in my drive way
and we watched the rain drops race down the windshield.
You had kissed me goodbye before I got out
and I waved as you drove away.
And for a while, it seemed like I couldn't get the taste
of your minty lips out of my mouth.
Sorry Only Says So MuchThere is a particular tension in the halls of a high school.
The eyes of two young souls meet-
Two lost souls.
One was broken beyond repair, with scars that would make the eyes of the strongest man drool.
One was the one who made that feet.
Two rotten souls.
When they see each other,
They both- at the very least the culprit-one- contort their chests.
They avert there eyes and their hearts drop.
It's like they want to cry from the pain,
But also from the joy of the past all over again.
Now the evil one,
The one who gave the other so much pain,
Stays up at night, torturing herself,
Clinging to torn pictures and rotten petals,
Listening to old songs and reading through old messages,
Regretting the past.
She knows she can't change what she's done.
She knows there won't be a reset this time.
It's just the most painful thought in her mind.
She wonders if the other ever thinks the same.
She wonders if the other ever utters her name.
There isn't much else she can do now to begin a friendship,
jawlinesher name was Jules-short-for-Julianne and she tasted of the grape gum that comes in packs of eight, the kind tucked away on the shelf at the Grocery & Gifts on 21st and Hawthorne,
and I didn’t know I was supposed to close my eyes.
she traced my spine with her teeth (I figure now she was trying to crack it open, let my marrow spill over her lips)
the stars leaning in when we kissed looked like rice, honest, not wishes or dreams or satellites,
two girls collided on a sidewalk, boots drenched in gasoline puddles that glistened scarlet aquamarine gold, trying to find something with their tongues
but we fooled nobody.
Ever Contemplating I have so many options,
but at the same time,
I have none.
As much as I wanna leave,
I think I might have to stay
right where I am.
someday it will happen:
we'll be on our own
you just have to wait.
I have to finish some things
before we can start:
before we can disappear
and live in our little shack
by the beach in paradise
with just enough to get by.
Playing music on the street
to get something to eat;
just to stay alive.
Although the melodies
keep our hearts beating
and the breaths we take going.
Screaming out our lungs
trying to bring back grunge,
with all our clothes
covered in studs.
Kaoru x Chubby reader: You're not fat.
You were hanging with at the Hitachiin mansion with the rest of the Host club members on a Friday night hanging out after a very long day at school.You were bullied at school but for a peculiar reason.You were a bit chubby.You weren't skinny,but you weren't fat either.Although,you do feel fat most of the time.Most girls at the school were- wait let me rephrase that,EVERY girl at the school was skinny except for you.You had trouble losing weight in the past.You had a strict diet and excercised daily.It was a very slow process but the pounds were skimming off....just not fast enough.Because of being chubby and being self consious you didn't have much friends.However,Kaoru Hitchiin was the first person to become your friend when you came to Ouran.You met the host club after that and became great friends.Haruhi and Kouya are the only ones who knew that you're being bullied by your weight but neither you or them really mentioned it much.You smiled lightl
One of These DaysOne of these days
I’m going to walk up to you
And know exactly what to say.
The things is though,
You take my breath away
And I’m not good at conversation anyway.
One of these days
I’m going to walk up to you
And tell you exactly how I feel.
I’ll walk up to you
And have my words make you feel loved
Just like you do for me.
One of these days
I’m going to tell you
How happy you’ve made me
And what a difference you’ve made in my life
If only I could speak in poetry
Then I might be able to communicate better.
But I can’t
So I’ll just have to find a way to keep my words
When they aren’t on paper.
But I will
I’ll tell you
I’ll find a way to talk to you
One of these days.
Chapter 5 Love is complicated (Cilan x Reader)Chapter 5
Damn now what I can do, I’ll go take my brothers and Cheren and Bianca, Geez!! I’m so damn nervous of thinking what those weird guys will do to (y/n). I walked over the entrance of the Ferris wheel and took out my Pansage, ‘’ Well, I think it’s Investigation time! *takes detective hat out of nothing and put it on*, Pansage help me searching something weird or out of order, please’’ (More Cilan Like, I was making him too much OOC, shame on me -.-‘) he said as Pansage agree and started to look around the scene.
*Sniff, sniff* ‘’Hm….. Let’s see, I have smelled this essence before…… I know! As Caitlin says and psiquic type has a mystical and sweet scent, but not as sweet as a fairy type so definitely was a pure psiquic Pokémon that can learn teleport because of the sudden leave, Most of pokémon that learn Teleport have two types and the only one that is a non-legendary
Your HandsI remember when your hands
Were intertwined with mine,
Twisting, turning, constant
Yearning to know exactly
What this was, this feeling
I'm learning to cope with.
I never liked holding hands,
For in the hands the heart
Is held, folding fingers
Over one another's was never
That appealing to me, but you.
You kept my head reeling,
Returning for more, I would
Soar as your hands wrapped
'Round my body, discerning
Why this felt so new, a few
Had called me cute before,
Why is it different when
You say I'm beautiful?
Now, it's all changed, it's
Over, you were the reason
I felt this switch, a changing
Season, you said the words,
"I love you." You said it to
Me, you see, I take things
Like that pretty seriously.
You caused me such grief, a
Relief now knowing you aren't
As great as you think you are,
I'm far changed from those days,
I don't hate you. But I don't
Miss you, or to kiss you. I was
Happy to dismiss you, but I miss
Your hands intertwined with mine.
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