maybe it is just how my muse knows how much my words worth and loves me for that.
maybe it is the way i write us out, or how my muse reads me out loud.
maybe everything is a knife job and my muse has the weapon, but i was the one handing it out.
"stick it in, watch me bleed." with all the blood and words left in me, I'll regret this as long as I breathe.
—a.m.
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when the lights on, i scrape out the dust of what used to be there. the scent still lingers in the air and it's suffocating, but i keep breathing it in. I've grown familiar with this atmosphere, as I'm left with the remaining taste on my fingers; i don't want to lick them clean. god, i want him.
—a.m.
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i had my words right where i want them when my love wasn't around. to long, to want, to wish for everything to haunt. easier to understand when this wasn't so familiar. and now I'm pulled in, my longing became having. i lost for words, but i have my love where i wanted it this whole time.
—a.m.
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i could name those fifty shades of red; carmine, red wine, crimson, maroon, burgundy, to scarlet. the sky's dark blue, midnight and violet, depends on my day and how we take the cues. there would be no A in this golden mess, I'll leave it up to you.
—a.m.
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it's easier to love you when those eight letters weren't so familiar on our lips, when your kisses never left a mark on my skin, when your fingers never wrapped around mine so tightly. it's easier to love you when it was just me, when i was all alone and you didn't see this part of the story.
—a.m.
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Somewhere up in the ether, where the sky's clearer, the grass is greenest, and the weather stays warm all year
I would have it all to keep the lights on forever, the moonlight would shine on my cup when the night's longer
And I was never imprisoned inside my doll house, chained to the blood of my kin, or the view I had in my mind
Another second in this lifetime passes by, what could I do other than keep my eyes closed tight and wishing that my clock would stop ticking when it'd finally strike twelve?
—a.m.
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Dear readers,
How worst could it get to make a confession? They told me that my mouth needs to be washed with some bleach and i was forced to swallow every word, every untold story on the tip of my tongue. I was held in the dark, but I could still feel my heartbeat, feel the blood flows inside my veins with the curse of my kin. So I wrote down the words my before they turn to a void.
And here's the fairytale, the unfair.
It's been thousands of midnights since i was cursed to be left shattered on the ground, to the thought that no true love kisses would glue my pieces back together. The witch and her little white lies slipped through her teeth. Dark horses made of ashes, spider webs filled up my hollow chest. I cry out every time the clock strikes twelve.
Tick, tick, tick, doomed.
I heard it all. I saw it all. I knew it all. The wrongs in my constellation, the faults in my system. My confession, out of the desperation and their judgements.
I fell in love with anything but the highs. I fell in love with the thought of lonely nights for the rest of my life. No knight would spare a sight just to see through the blinds of my dollhouse. But I fell in love, I fell in love with anything but my highs. I had to be in love with something wrong but feels so right. I had to fall, face first to the ground so I could break my jaw.
The witch put me in flames to survive. But my hands were cold enough. So, I've spent my whole life chasing ghosts and shadows. Alley to alley, screaming out of my lungs that I don't need anybody to drag me out of this nightmare. Wasn't it easier than hand out my tears as if I was a mermaid caught by the lamppost?
I had no choice but to carry the curse to my grave and I keep digging, digging, and digging. I've made a gravestone out of my skulls. "The innocence of one's existence," I carved it out.
I checked the wires in my still-beating-something part. One, two, three, four, five. Am I supposed to be alive?
Chapter one out of many left. Not over yet. What a tale, right?
—a.m.
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A star in a jar for every laugh we share
Constellations in the palm of my hand
Another twilight in the northen sky
Another sunshine for humankind
I'd draw a map for the cherubs
To run straight into your eyes
My sugar, fly beyond the ozone
a.m.
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One scar, two scars, four
A knock, banging on my door
The chandelier of burnt-out stars
A wish for somewhere so far
Rest easy, my sweet catastrophe
—a.m.
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