#you do not get to tear me down then throw your fucking worthless bandaids on top
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#can my mom stop acting like the fucking devil#*like I'm the fucking devil#oh my god shut the fuck up#stop trying to be the fucking devil's advocate#I don't need you to try to shoot down every fucking thing i say#go fucking die#don't like me getting mad? don't treat me like trash#you cannot tell me in the same fucking breath#how I'm so terrible and need to watch myself#but also say 'you're smart so you'll figure it out'#no#you do not get to tear me down then throw your fucking worthless bandaids on top#why can't you ever be supportive of me when shit like this happens#why do you always have to fucking tear me down and tell me I need to be a better person#I know you fucking hate me but god#if you want to play 'family' so bad then fucking act like a mother#I can get torn to shreds by every other person all day#I tear my fucking self to shreds constantly#please just for fucking once see me as a human being#and not as an object that completes the fucking 'family'#if you want to lecture someone so badly#go look in the fucking mirror
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“And it’s just as good as I knew it would be.”
And so I started falling,
Endlessly.
from the clouds-I went. Falling, laughing, crying, and fighting like hell
I hit the ground hard and fast and when I finally opened my eyes— I was so confused.
My skin was warm and the sun was bright. I looked up and I saw you holding out your hand. Intoxicated with the smell of sweet wine and your laughter. I started running with you—the most irresistible force of fire and life I have ever known.
I didn’t want to understand how this happened. I thought I was dying? I accepted my fate and somehow gravitated to your soul. Like that’s exactly what the universe had planned, pushing me off of the clouds- this is why I had fallen. Deeply, madly Endlessly.
I never knew anything as sweet as you.
With blood on my lip and bruises on my body. You healed a part of me I didn’t know was so broken.
Although, my wounds were deeper than I actually knew. You couldn’t get to them. Embedded into my bones I felt something snap. I looked down and I was bleeding. My heart fell out of my chest. We just starred. Tears flowed down your cheek- gently you picked it up and put it back-gave me a cute little cartoon bandaid and we continued running
We ran out of bandaids— that was a shit fucking day. You didn’t know what to do. It was storming. Rain was pouring. I couldn’t see, I wiped the water from my eyes and I saw something dark emanating in the distance- monstrous shadows slowly creeping out of the night sky.
They were familiar and I was terrified.
I knew they were coming for me.
You held me tight and I should of held you tighter. I should have kissed you harder. I screamed as they dug their claws into my feet ripping me away from you.
They took me. Pulled me under. You tried grabbing my hands. You did everything you could. Everything. You fought. Cuts and bloody knuckles- your heart got broken. I knew this part was my fault. My own downfall. You see, I knew them from long ago and they only got more sinister since I was a kid. I was just so fucking tired. I should have protected you. I should have gave you a warning- Although I tried to tell you- you thought I was just trying to scare you. Like in the movies we’d watch- but this was real.
They were vicious. Told me that you hated me. Told me I was worthless. Fed me poison and told me that love never existed. I scoffed and screamed out your name- giving them the middle finger- It exists. I said.
It got quiet……… dead silence filled the air…
Slowly stepping forward claws dragging on the cold ground- they each held up a jagged mirror to my starved and broken body… “How could anybody love you?”
a trail of mocking laughter echoed off the walls. I fell to my knees.
You were trying to get back to me. I heard you calling and I so badly wanted you to hear me, bring me back to the surface.
But It was too late….
I couldn’t escape, i didn’t have a shovel and 6 ft under wasn’t going to cut it - I had to fight.
This time- I fucking wanted to. I had no choice. Live- or eat shit for the rest of your life knowing they will never let you have peace. This was personal.
It felt like eternity.
I nearly broke every bone in my body.
Day after day I waited. I was patient. I waited until they fell dormant. They do this for periods at a time, but they’re sensitive to sounds and I was done living quietly.
I lured them in with a bang- throwing my shackles on the floor. They came running towards me and I bolted to the bag of jagged mirrors. Nothing but adrenaline in my veins and the memories of heartbreak pounding inside my head. I wasn’t afraid anymore- I had nothing more to lose than my life, so fuck it.
Cutting them off with determination. They clawed after the bag. Gripping it tightly I pried it out their cold dead hands until it hit the floor.
Mirrors shattered in every direction- their reflection was scattered but it wasn’t enough.
I slid. Scraping my knee to the biggest piece still left on dirt stained ground. I held it up strong while it cut deeply into my palm.
They starred in disbelief.
Boldness and hell ran through my veins. I roared: “LOOK You see? It was you who never existed.”
Face to face with their own demise of a faceless existence- They fulminated into ashes. Falling pure as snow.
I finally started to breathe.
I could have swept what was left under the rug, but I spent too many years doing that. This was a reminder.
I dusted myself off, and started climbing.
Dirt, sweat and dried up tears covered my entire face.
With my fingertips barely scratching the surface—
I sensed it all at once— Light. Radiance and euphoria fell like glitter all around my being.
Finally. I was free, I was finally fucking free. I felt proud. I was grateful. I was healing.
Walking into this new found life- the sun was shining and the trees were swaying in the breeze. I was dancing when it started raining. Smiling- i spun around dizzy and joyful-
and there you were. Dancing, laughing, vibrant
holding out your hand- impatiently smiling-
“What are you waiting for love?”
#literature#short story#reading#prompts#poetry#love poem#romance#mental health#mentally exhausted#mentally fucked#bpd awareness#trauma#have hope#everythingitouched
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Number 60 of the prompts with Florence? 👀
60: I really think it’s easier for people when I’m not around.
word count: 0.8k
It wasn’t as if you didn’t anticipate it. In fact, it was all you could think about the night before, you couldn’t sleep because of it. You just didn’t expect the mob crowd to be that big, and their response to be so violent.
The dizziness remained as your bodyguard escorted you inside, shouting for the concierge to fetch you some ice. A heckler had aimed and landed his throw straight at your head. You couldn’t really make out what it was, a jawbreaker, a phone, a rock, you didn’t know.
You dabbed at your forehead and felt it wet, just as the concierge brought you an ice pack. He was apologizing profusely, as he offered you bandaids and further accommodations should you need them. “It’s fine”, you only said, “thank you.”
Florence was waiting upstairs, and you sighed, thinking of a lie through this. Just as you had expected, she ran to you with a gasp. She stopped herself as she hovered her fingers over your open wound to which you held your ice pack, her lips wavering as her eyes sprung tears.
“This is fucking insane—“
“No, it’s okay, Flo.” You shook your head and walked past. “It’s okay. Just let it go.”
“Y/N, you were assaulted. It can’t go on like this!”
“I said I’m fine!” It came out harsher than you had expected. “I’m fine.” You repeated, softer.
You didn’t turn around because you hated seeing the solemn gaze she undoubtedly was giving you.
You had lost track of how your life turned out this way. One minute you were shooting a movie, a prospective one that was told to make you shine at the Oscars the following year, the next you had made an enemy of the director, and an enemy of the entire world. Film executives turned you down after that, quoting your “obnoxious behavior” onset of the first director, a lie she had perpetuated to press you further under the water, only because you called her out on her neglect for the project.
It was on set then that you met Florence, the love of your life, the light at the end of the tunnel, the one person keeping you going at this point. You fully believed you would have gone down a very dark path without her. She was Hollywood’s new golden girl, and with the title came many protective admirers that propel insults at you on a near-daily basis for obvious reasons.
Your phone had become a nuance at this point, a messenger of the constant reminders that you sucked, that you were worthless, and that you didn’t deserve Florence.
“Don’t listen to them, please.” She would slowly take the phone out of your hand, and wrap her arms around your neck. “They don’t know the whole story.”
But the sour reputation you brought carried a stench, and even the people that you thought were your friends in the industry evaded you.
“I’m not going.” You mumbled and focused on your TV show when Flo wondered when you were going to get up. “I canceled hair and makeup.”
“Why not?”
“Don’t want to.” You shrugged, avoiding her eyes.
“Y/N.” She sighed.
You had kept these feelings bottled up inside of you for months, that you felt like vomiting them all out, and to the only person in the world who understood and stood by your side. You tried to keep your tears at bay because you didn’t want her pity, but Florence had never been a stranger.
“I really think it’s easier for people when I’m not around.” You rubbed your fingers together. “So you go.”
You felt the couch dip beside you, then your head tilted over to her as she pressed kisses on your forehead, your cheeks, your eyes, then your lips. The tears didn’t stop themselves.
“They don’t know the real you.” She said, softer than a breeze of wind. “I do. And the real Y/N is kind, and brave, and strong.”
She cradled your face like it was made of glass. Her kindness put a crack in your façade.
“I just want all this to be over.”
“I know, babe. Me too. And it will be.” You let out a small sob into her chest and pulled her tighter.
“How about,” she wiped the tears from your cheeks, “I stay in with you tonight? I’ll make that chicken dish you showed me on TikTok, and we can watch a movie?”
“But what about the—“
“I don’t care about that. I care about you more.”
You smiled and nodded frantically.
“Alright, you big baby.” She giggled and pried your arms off of her. “Wanna be my sous-chef?”
#florence pugh x reader#florence pugh imagine#florence pugh imagines#delfiore 1k celebration#yelena belova x reader
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respite (1.6k)
read on ao3
for the “intimacy without sex” adoptable prompt on my @tonystarkbingo flash card
“I’m fine, Steve!” Tony called out from the bathtub, the sole fact that he was sitting in an empty bathtub in his underwear at 3 in the morning probably not helping his case, “You can go back to bed.” He tried to keep his voice as steady as possible, cleared his throat a couple of times in an attempt to vacuum away the sobs threatening to escape.
“Hey, you don’t have to let me in if you don’t want to, but I’m not going back to bed,” Steve called back from behind the locked bathroom door — wait, fuck, he wasn’t sure if he locked the door, what if Steve just came in? He couldn’t let Steve see him like this, he would rather die than let Steve see him like this, absolutely not — no, it was okay, Steve wouldn’t just barge in, Steve respected his privacy, Steve respected him . God, what was there to respect, anyways? But, alas, his words were gentle, his tone even gentler. And albeit his own protests, Tony felt his muscles relaxing at Steve’s voice. Fuck, why couldn’t he just let Tony fall apart in peace? Stupid Steve. Stupid, wonderful, caring Steve. Fucking Steve . “I’m just gonna sit over here, alright? I had this sketch that I was working on, anyways.”
“Fuck.” Tony spat under his breath, but who was he kidding anyway? Steve, with his supersoldier hearing, definitely picked up on that, considering that he was most likely leaning against the door right now, with no intention to leave Tony alone.
Another wave of panic spilled down on him like a rainstorm on the Equator, in buckets of freezing cold water, so fast that he couldn’t quite assimilate what was happening, even as he began to hyperventilate, even as the sobs fled his throat. He heard the echo of his own — screams, was it? Weeps? Cries? He stuffed his head into the gap between his elbows and knees and felt wetness on his skin. Oh, he was crying. Of course he was, god, what a fucking mess. What a worthless, broken mess.
“Steve–” He whimpered out in between sobs before he could tie his tongue into a knot and keep it from ever uttering another word again.
“Yes, darling, I’m here, always here,” the voice from behind the door replied quickly, Tony barely recognizing it as Steve’s voice. Steve, who was here . Here, with him, with his disgraceful, his useless self. Broken self, broken, broken, broken, broken, brok– “Can I come in, sweetheart? Can I please come in? I just want to hold you, I just want to make sure you’re safe.”
Safe . Safe, safe, Tony wanted to be safe. He wanted to be safe from every word ricocheting itself from the walls of his brain, he wanted to be safe from the panic filling his lungs, from the sobs clogging up his trachea, he wanted to be safe from feeling broken, he wanted to be safe from being broken , he wanted to be safe from being .
“Please, Steve.” Everything was starting to swim, he wasn’t sure if it was because of the tears staining his corneas or if it was the lack of oxygen or if everything was turning to jelly around him. It was probably not the latter, but with every passing moment, he felt more and more detached from reality, more and more like he was floating in space, falling in space . God, he was falling, he was falling again. “Don’t want to, don’t want to–” He choked out with each sob, almost like every breath in his lungs was replaced with said phrase and he couldn’t stop reciting it, he couldn’t stop chanting it over and over and over and over and–
There was a loud cracking sound that made the jelly that Tony was sitting in — what? Why was he sitting in jelly? — stop shaking for a moment. He turned his head and the next thing he knew was somebody pulling back the shower curtain and then Steve was standing in front of him, his hand on Tony’s shoulder, his eyes painting the jelly that Tony was sitting in sky blue.
“Hey, Tony, hi.” He spoke softly, warmth pooling at Tony’s shoulder where his hand laid, and Tony suddenly realized just how cold the rest of him was. It’s okay, at least his shoulder was warm. He didn’t deserve that warmth though, did he? No, no, of course he didn’t, he didn’t deserve any warmth. Another sob broke free and his head fell in between his shoulders, the muscles of his neck giving up on him, just as everyone else did. “Darling, hi, it’s Steve, it’s me.” Everyone else, but not Steve, not Steve, not Steve.
“Steve,” He breathed out, forced himself to lift his head, tried to move his hand to touch Steve, but it flopped uselessly back down onto his knees. Too heavy, everything was too heavy, the world was too heavy, and god, why did he have to carry it?
“Yes, sweetheart, it’s Steve. I’m right here. Hey, come here,” He felt Steve gently move his heavy, oh-so-heavy arms out of the way, straighten his legs out and suddenly Tony was being honest to god cradled and god, god that felt so safe. So, so safe. “Right here, I’ve got you, my love, I’ve got you right here.” He was vaguely aware of Steve lifting him onto his lap, breathing words that were probably so very kind, so very lovely (like everything about Steve was) into his ear, as the world slowly turned from jelly into a cream. “Can you focus on my movements and my words? Can you just focus on me right now, darling?” Steve said and Tony tried to nod shakily against Steve’s neck and oh, his neck was wet. Tony was crying into Steve’s neck, wasn’t he? But Steve said to focus on him right now, so it didn’t matter, he supposed. He felt one of Steve’s hands on his bare back, drawing patterns – pretty ones, probably. Everything Steve drew was pretty. Where was his other hand? Steve did have two hands, right? There was a soothing feeling on his scalp and oh, there was Steve’s other hand – smoothing out Tony’s hair, massaging his scalp. Good thing Steve had two hands, otherwise Tony’s hair wouldn’t be getting smoothed out and his scalp wouldn’t be getting massaged.
Steve was pressing his lips against Tony’s temple, kissing “You’re safe, I’m here, I love you” into his skin in sotto voce over and over again. Steve’s chest was warm against his side and Tony was slowly becoming privy to Steve’s lack of a shirt. Why was Steve shirtless? Didn’t matter, probably. And, oh, Steve was speaking again.
“Friday, fill the bath with 104-degree water, please.” Tony tried to make sense of what Steve was saying, but then Steve was speaking again, asking Tony something, maybe, “Do you want to keep your underwear on, darling? It’ll get wet in the bathwater.”
“Bathwater?” Tony heard how small and groggy his voice was, how downright shattered he sounded, but Steve said to focus on him, so it was okay, probably.
“Yeah, bathwater. I was thinking we should fill up the bath, since we’re already sitting in it.” Steve smiled softly against his cheek. Steve was smiling and Steve was speaking so tenderly and Steve was right there and he wanted to throw Tony a bath, and Tony was safe, so he felt his lips twitch involuntarily just the tiniest bit. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He whispered back, tucking his face deeper into Steve’s neck.
“So, underwear on or off, dear?”
“Off.” Steve pulled at the waistband of his briefs and, for a moment, he was being lifted out of Steve lap just enough for Steve to pull them down his hips and off his legs and then he was back in Steve’s arms, barely aware of the whimper he let out in the short second that he wasn’t.
He was starting to feel the warm water pooling up under them, and Steve’s soft stomach pressing against his side was now wet, and Tony was almost positive that it wasn’t from his tears.
Steve slowly backed away and leaned them against the bathtub wall, he turned Tony towards him, maneuvering one of Tony’s legs to the other side of his lap, so that Tony was straddling Steve, Steve’s large hands on his waist under the comforting warmth of the water and Steve’s lips whispering something about the sketch he was working on into his shoulder, stopping once a while to press a soft kiss wherever his lips reached.
Soon, the water reached Tony’s chest and he distantly noticed how the flow of the water stopped, Friday probably turning it off. Artificial intelligence was quite nice, wasn’t it? Not as nice as Steve, though.
“Not as nice as you either, darling.” Steve told him and oh, did Tony say all of that out loud? He didn’t realize, but oh well, Steve had chuckled and called him nice and pressed another kiss into his collarbone, so it was okay.
It was okay, even though it really wasn’t, even though Tony had spent forty minutes shaking violently and having consecutive panic attacks that grew in power each time, drawing potential energy from Tony’s exhaustion, from his fear, from his debilitating, raw vulnerability.
But it was okay. It would be. Because Steve was there, drawing what seemed to be the infinity sign on Tony’s shoulder blade and breathing softly against his skin and his vulnerability no longer felt like a raw, exposed wound. It felt like Steve blew on it, applied some Neosporin, put a heart-shaped bandaid over it, and kissed it softly. It felt cradled, loved, and safe. He was flushing red under the nearly burning touch of the water, the world was standing strong and steady, Steve’s chest was pressed against his, probably flushing alike, and he was safe.
#karina writes#i wrote this bc i had a real shitty panic attack recently (kinda exactly like this lol) and i just wanted tony to be comforted thru it#idk if that makes sense#but yeah!#also i love him and he deserves all the comfort and love in the world SO#tony stark august flash bingo#stony fic#stevetony fic#stony#stevetony#steve x tony#steve rogers#tony stark#captain america#iron man#iron captain#idk if thats a tag LOL#mcu fanfiction#marvel#panic attacks tw#tony stark flash bingo fill
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Sirens Call // Draco Malfoy
Type: Fluff
Request/Summary:
The song I envision her singing
A/N: Sorry to who requested this, i know it’s been far too long.
Warnings: Bullying, some swears
Y/N’s POV:
I remember how it was when we were younger. I remember how we bonded, the memories bringing the sweet taste of vanilla cupcakes to my tongue. My mouth watered a little bit. I remember my birthday, the last day of second year here. We’d been friends since the sorting. That day we shared those vanilla cupcakes that I tasted on my tongue now. It was the taste of the affection I’ve held for him all these years.
“Mudblood.” Draco spat out as he passed me in the hallway. I were sat in a window sill, reading my muggle literature, minding my own business. All I could do was sigh, and lean my head back against the stone to prevent me from crying as the pain of another heart-shattering moment set in.
No harm, no foul. My father would say it to me over and over again when I would make a mistake. But this was harming me, and the feeling was fowl, the sour taste it brought to my mouth was fowl.
I reminded myself, time and again, he’s not a bad person. I know how his parents pressure him. Yet... no I pushed the thought of him hating me out of my head. Just no. I let me head roll forward.
It was the next day that I cracked, and it wasn’t pretty. The day had consisted of the normal comments. “Filthy mudblood” etc etc etc. The nasty looks in our classes together. The ‘accidental’ stepping on the back of my shoe, sending my many books and loose papers flying forward, leaving me alone with my things being trampled at I did my best to collect them. The normal stuff.
It was after supper that it was the worst. It was after supper that my heart split in two. I always left the Great Hall after the majority had finished eating and parted. I usually waited for Draco and his posy to leave before I skulked back to my room.
He wasn’t leaving, and I was terribly exhausted. So I stood, gathered my things rapidly, clinging the polaroid camera that my father had given to me to my chest. He told me it was the one my grandmother had given to him and my mother on their wedding night. The best memories should be captured in the instant. Thats what she told them. Thats what he told me. Though I doubt I had any more than five pictured on the cork board above my bed. Six years here, and only five pictures.
I was almost to the entrance of my house dorms. I could just barely see it down the hallway when my balance was thrown off. I went toppling forward, my books, and my camera splaying out everywhere. My cheek scraping against the stone floor. I contemplated just falling asleep there, but only for a split second. After that split second was over, I was pushing up on my hands and knees trying to collect my things. The sketches of my mother were what I wen for first, I was drawing her over and over, trying to remember the details of her aging skin. The parchment was torn from my hand. I looked up to see Pansy Parkinson standing above me. She was examining the paper, shaking her head.
“Would you look at this. A sweet portrait of mother dearest. This must have taken you days!” She let out a devious chuckle and tore it straight down the middle, then again and again and agin. I watched in horror at the snowflakes that were once my mother scattered across the floor. I brushed it off and starting to collect what I could of my things, as the five of them (Blaise Zabini, Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, and Draco) were probing through my belongings and called me degrading names. It was only once they thought they had stolen or destroyed anything that could have been of value of me, the four others left. It was just him and I. We looked at each other for far too long. My eyes were wet with tears. God fucking damn it why did I care so much for this tosser? This prick? His eyes flickered around my face faster than I could keep track of. His eyes were hard to read, and the corners of his lips flicked downwards over and over again as he tried to keep them straight.
“Why Dray?” It was only a whisper, but they was the first words I’d spoken to him in years. He pulled his eyes away from me - looking at the polaroid that he knew meant so much to me. He hesitated for a moment, then brought the heel of his shoe crashing down atop it. I watched every second of it happen. After looking at the remanence of my beloved camera, I looked back up at him. He was staring down at it with his mouth parted, his eyes wide. As if he was in shock as to what he had just done. As soon as he looked at me and our eyes met, I felt the adrenaline. I was on my knees sprinting down the hallway, seemingly in an instant I was sat beside the black lake, my shoes just at the edge of the water.
Draco’s POV:
She stared up at me, her beautiful eyes glistening. Her lips hung just apart from one another. The thoughts of what my father had said to me over the years flooded my brain. They’re worthless. Y/N is worthless. Worthless mudblood. Without another thought I smashed her fathers camera. I could remember the first time she’d gotten her hands on it during second year. Her father said that it was important that she use her film carefully in his Christmas letters. It’s very expensive. He wrote her, I will send you more film when your mother and I can get some extra money. I could remember the pictures we took that day. We used it until there was no more film. She counted all the pictured out that evening as we huddled together in the Slytherin common room. Six pictures. When she saw the picture I took of her, she wanted to throw it in the fire, but I managed to convince to her to let me keep it.
She looked back up at me, a tear already flowing down her cheek. She left all of her things behind as she began dashing away. I followed, though as I began falling behind her, it gave me some time to think that maybe it wasn’t the best idea to be around her. But she was a good person, and if I could stop her from doing something stupid (and I was the cause) I should be there to do so. I found her sobbing beside the Black Lake. I gave her space.
Crouching behind a large evergreen, I watched her carefully. Her sobs slowly sufficed and there was silence for a while. Then a quiet, crackled sound came from her. She loudly cleared her throat. As her lips parted, the hum of her voice smacked into him like a brick wall. The words floated through the evening sky with such grace. As her song progressed, she rose to her feet and hit a volume I didn’t think the once dainty little Y/N could reach. She wasn’t that girl anymore. She was grown. This was my first time actually hearing her voice for years and everything started flooding back to me. The happiness we once shared. She was so beautiful in the moonlight. In any light really.
How could she possibly be worthless? Just look at her.
Then there was silence.
A warmth grew in my chest. One that willed my feet to move forward. Like everything was suddenly fitting together, like the final pieces of a puzzle.
Y/N’s POV:
I turned around when there was a crackle in the woods. Draco Malfoy was walking quickly in my direction. My heart skipped a beat.
“Look Draco, I don’t know what you want with me but can’t you just leave me alone?” I said firmly. As he approached his eyes were soft and his lips were unreadable. He came within two steps of being too close when he spoke;
“I’m so sorry.” Those words were followed by the final two steps, closing the gap between our bodies, grabbing the sides of my face. His hands warm compared to the night time air. Our lips connected before I could process what was happening. But then I did. And I kissed back. It was like the world was revolving around this moment. He pulled away, his forehead pressed to mine. “Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, I will never leave you alone. Not ever again. Not in a million moons or under a million Imperious curses, I will never leave you again.”
We smiled. We stood there smiling and kissing and looking at each other for a long time. But once the midnight chill caught us both, he took me back to the Slytherin common room with him. He wrapped me in a thick blanket and told me to wait for a moment. I complied. Then he returned, clinging to a polaroid. He handed it to me quickly, as though he was ripping a bandaid off. It was a picture of me. From the day I got the camera. I looked up at him in shock, then spoke;
“You kept them too?”
#draco#draco malfoy#malfoy#dracomalfoy#harry#harry potter#potter#hogwarts#imagine#fluff#polaroid#Gabbby Hanna#thegabbyshow#out loud#bullying#draco x reader
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And so I started falling,
Endlessly.
from the clouds-I went. Falling, laughing, crying, and fighting like hell
I hit the ground hard and fast and when I finally opened my eyes— I was so confused.
My skin was warm and the sun was bright
I looked up and I saw you holding out your hand. Intoxicated with the smell of sweet wine and your laughter. I started running with you—the most irresistible force of fire and life I have ever known.
I didn’t want to understand how this happened. I thought I was dying? I accepted my fate and somehow gravitated to your soul. Like that’s exactly what the universe had planned, pushing me off of the clouds- this is why I had fallen. Deeply, madly Endlessly.
I never knew anything as sweet as you.
With blood on my lip and bruises on my body. You healed a part of me I didn’t know was so broken.
Although, my wounds were deeper than I actually knew. You couldn’t get to them. embedded into my bones I felt something snap. I looked down and I was bleeding. My heart fell out of my chest. We just starred. Tears flowed down your cheek- gently you picked it up and put it back-gave me a cute little cartoon bandaid and we continued running
We ran out of bandaids— that was a shit fucking day. You didn’t know what to do.
It was storming. Rain was pouring. I couldn’t see, I wiped the water from my eyes and I saw something dark emanating in the distance- monstrous shadows slowly creeping out of the night sky.
They were familiar and I was terrified.
I knew they were coming for me.
You held me tight and I should of held you tighter.
I should have kissed you harder. I screamed as they dug their claws into my feet ripping me away from you.
They took me. Pulled me under. You tried grabbing my hands. You did everything you could. Everything. You fought. Cuts and bloody knuckles- your heart got broken. I knew this part was my fault. My own downfall. You see, I knew them from long ago and they only got more sinister since I was a kid. I was just so fucking tired. I should have protected you. I should have gave you a warning- Although I tried to tell you- you thought I was just trying to scare you. Like in the movies we’d watch- but this was real.
They were vicious. Told me that you hated me. Told me I was worthless. Fed me poison and told me that love never existed. I scoffed and screamed out your name- giving them the middle finger- It exists. I said.
It got quiet……… dead silence filled the air…
slowly stepping forward claws dragging on the cold ground- they each held up a jagged mirror to my starved and broken body… “How could anybody love you?”
You were trying to get back to me. I heard you calling and I so badly wanted you to hear me, bring me back to the surface.
But It was too late….
I couldn’t escape, i didn’t have a shovel and 6 ft under wasn’t going to cut it - I had to fight.
This time- I fucking wanted to. I had no choice. Live or eat shit for the rest of your life knowing they will never let you have peace. This was personal.
It felt like eternity.
I nearly broke every bone in my body.
Day after day I waited. I was patient. I waited until they fell dormant. They do this for periods at a time, but they’re sensitive to sounds and I was done living quietly.
I lured them in with a bang- throwing my shackles on the floor— they came running towards me and I bolted to the bag of jagged mirrors. Nothing but adrenaline in my veins and the memories of heartbreak pounding inside my head. I wasn’t afraid anymore- I had nothing more to lose.
Cutting them off with determination. They clawed after the bag. Gripping it tightly I pried it out their cold dead hands until it hit the floor.
Mirrors shattered in every direction- their reflection was scattered and it wasn’t enough.
I slid. Scraping my knee to the biggest piece still left on dirt stained ground. I held it up strong while it cut deeply into my palm.
They starred in disbelief.
Boldness ran through my veins. I roared: “You see? You were never even there.”
Face to face with their own demise of a faceless existence- They fulminated into ashes. Falling pure as snow.
I could breathe.
I could have swept what was left under the rug, but I spent too many years doing that. This was a reminder.
I dusted myself off, and started climbing.
Dirt, sweat and dried up tears covered my entire face.
With my fingertips barely scratching the surface—
I sensed it all at once— Light. Radiance and euphoria fell like glitter all around my being.
Finally. I was free, I was finally fucking free. I felt proud. I was grateful. I was healing.
Walking into this new found life- the sun was shining and the trees were swaying in the breeze. I was dancing when it started raining. smiling- i spun around dizzy and joyful-
and there you were. Dancing, laughing, vibrant
holding out your hand- impatiently smiling
“What are you waiting for love?”
#love poem#love story#writing#lovers#mentalwellness#mental illness#mental health#happiness#growing#ciggeratesaftersex#K.#lost love
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