Alessiah

tar-wet tired beyond repair tied to you, weight pulling on hair trying to come through, through screams only to you but you are not really there, thank god i'd hate for you to come to visit inside of woods i'd hate for you to come to visit at the place that is supposed to be the salvation but it will end me i know and you know wait for the 12th hour eating away the flesh below the nail, each minute licking new blood time of death the only important question to lilith queen – you will end me because you gave me the life without asking and i molded the shape of it, each day a new one (now that pretty clay's dry as lips) you did not ask

fairy lights shone indolently through garden, as sounds of glasses clicking and over-amplified laughter pierced through heavy, linden-filled hot mid-summer air. he was sweating, and for once, not for the heat that clogged pores and left even breathing as an action that needed effort. it was, because of her. he had seen her properly for the first time in months today. and dear god, she looked pretty. she always did. and when she was not smiling, she was intimidating – that is what everyone had said. and now, with that face, that expression, she felt untouchable. had he tried to talk to her, of course. dear lord knows she would not

the name inked inside of your inner lip, black wine frizzled imagination, deep blue and its perils – october, storm  -          reaching out for something on the horizon, black fog of the sunken ship and abandoment of glass bottles, white of siren's breast inter pale pink hue of her nipple that is caressing my back – she is bringing me down, down – azure veins splitting through cells of an ocean, slowly seeping again with a heart on my palm. town, by the yellow beaches of silver stones and ivory white, tanned hand reaching out and letting him pas(t) away, peacefully, in the arms of– curled hair wet, tired locks spra

i. 100 days later, everything remains on its old place, the book, the toy, the sand-coloured coffee, you –   because your body isn't lulled in a white sheet. ii. night by the river. lights reflecting lazily – inexplicably, leading me back to my ivory cradle   at a castle, in the midst of the dead gardens. hands, lips, perfume, wine, wind, shells on a boat table – moon(child), without its tongue. iii. you won't find me. i'm hidden, cold, Bastille is higher than it was a minute prior to You.   you won't find me. i despise you, de facto and i despise that you are, perhaps, patiently prying by the doorknob. on

it's a lonely road but it's sun-coated   and it's beautiful. the scent of a   Turkish coffee from an abandoned living room     with pink and pristine wallpapers; pine and graveyard, sunsets, warm egg, beneath the feathers, grandmother's sleeping dress grandfather's hum- i was in heaven, years before my death.

i'd kissed before. i was kissed by my then-classmate and then-friend (that had dimples deeper than oceans trapped inside his irises) in the backseats of a bus that was taking us home from city of Budapest. it was pitch black once it drove away from soft yellow lights of calming town (with a very nervous architecture) – and therefore we barely saw other's face as i leaned forward to complete my dare. it was just a game - and per se, it shouldn't mean anything. (but it doesn't mean it won't.)     i expected a light touch on my lips for one or two seconds, maybe three. but five seconds passed, then he slowly deepened it. i felt like my h

you're asleep, and i lay and breathe i breathe now i can do it unlike someone on your chest hoping that love is growing with every blood-stained breath your living-dead-flesh ejects- yes, it grows and grows when heartbeating of yours is breathing of mine, harmonized symphony where we are one, later we literally become in coffin coloured like skin of our friends that worked hard, and burned out for us to start existing - worry not, they're shedding tears of joy from ashtray.

hesitated, when i was with you and embraced, i was fondling those cheeks silken yet strong like spiderwebs with sharp fingertips, and for the last time allowed aura to lost itself in the two little seas of irises i used to daily bathe in, then- you closed lids, i opened my own, thanking heaven that it is not easy to have dreams anymore.

When the pages were left blank And my heart in sadness sank When my dreams get mind-wired And my vision's uninspired When I walked alone this road Stumbling on every word I wrote You were there to show me how To keep my inspiration's vow Such a talent at that age Your every writing keeps me amazed A single pen, a wild dream And a poet's fire within So thank you, for you've been my friend A beam of hope in every dead end I wish for everyone to see Just how beautiful you can be.

Lord of the Rings: Prince Legolas X Elf!Reader {Oneshot-Request} Song: DIAURA - Lost November ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Gentle white petals, that seemed almost like the softest feathers of the purest swan, gently fell on the shiny grass. The daylight has been brought to the halt. The chilly evening breeze gently lulled the tired branches of the weeping willows, decorated with pure white pearls that never stopped falling. Everything seemed to be getting ready for the peaceful slumber. The only thing that seemed to disturb the serenity of the slowly falling night was the shadow of a certain prince. As he rested on one of

                             Unce upon a November,                           God sent one of his angels                                Down to the Earth                            The angel was fragile,                            Yet so much was set                                 Upon her                               Wings, fragile and                                   Transparent                               Eyes, scared yet                                     strong                               Lips, quiverring                                  in fear                              Not many angels survive