blurredlinesofrealityandfantasy

[blurredlinesofrealityandfantasy]

You scream for eyes to worship your flame,

but forget the hands that fed it —

flesh, bone, soul — all turned to ash.

You shine now,

but only because you climbed

out of bodies you left behind.

They called you beautiful

when your voice was a tremble,

when your smile was cracked,

when loving you meant bleeding daily

just to keep you from slipping.

But you wanted applause,

not witnesses.

You wanted awe,

not accountability.

Now you bask in the light

while ghosts rot in your shadow —

people who broke themselves

just to tape your name back together.

You call it growth.

They call it ruin.

And still, you dare to grieve

being forgotten.

[blurredlinesofrealityandfantasy]

If you go quiet,

I won’t chase.

I won’t ask where you went,

won’t wonder what I did.

I’ll simply erase you

like a smudge on glass—

slow, deliberate, permanent.

I don’t do well with absence.

I fold it up,

tuck it somewhere dark,

and never open it again.

When I say “don’t be a stranger,”

it’s not a soft farewell.

It’s the last thread I’ll leave dangling—

once it snaps,

I won’t tie it back.

You see, I burn bright when I let someone in.

Too bright.

I write them into every room I walk through,

every hour I breathe.

But when they fade,

I don’t mourn them.

I amputate.

Not out of hate.

Out of necessity.

Because I can’t survive

half-ghosts of people

who once knew how to reach me.

So if you go,

go gently,

but write. Call. Knock.

Remind me you’re real

before I decide

you never were.

[blurredlinesofrealityandfantasy]

[blurredlinesofrealityandfantasy]

I met you in the quiet between right and ruin,

where the air itself felt like it held its breath.

You looked at me like the world had never drawn a line,

and I—foolish, trembling—stepped over mine.

You weren’t meant to be mine.

Not in daylight, not in dreams,

but you arrived like a secret written in the dark,

and I memorized every forbidden word.

Loving you was like swallowing stars—

brilliant, burning,

a beauty I wasn’t built to survive.

And yet I did.

I carry the taste of you in silences,

in almosts, in what-ifs that won’t grow quiet.

I call you my sin—

not because you ruined me,

but because you revealed me.

They say sin separates us from grace—

but you were the only thing that ever felt like it.

[blurredlinesofrealityandfantasy]

“Thank you for misunderstanding me, rejecting me and not seeing me and teaching me to always see myself.”

— Unknown

[blurredlinesofrealityandfantasy]

𝐹𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐺𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑛 𝐼 𝑊𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑑.

I said I’d be patient.

I said I’d stay.

Not to keep you,

but to keep you from breaking.

You came to me in shards—

your light dimmed, your hope threadbare.

And I cupped your sadness

like something sacred.

Not to own, but to hold

until it no longer hurt so much.

You cried in my arms,

and I whispered that the world

still had soft places.

I became one,

even if just for a while.

And I meant it—

every word that promised healing,

every silence that said “ℐ'𝓂 𝒽ℯ𝓇ℯ.”

But no one tells you

that being the light in someone’s storm

sometimes means watching them walk

into the sunrise

with someone else.

You bloom now,

and I smile as I watch.

A little hollowed,

but whole in knowing

you found your spring.

It just wasn’t in me.

Still—

sometimes I wonder.

If I had reached for you,

instead of just holding space—

if I had dared to want

instead of just wait—

would your eyes have looked for me

in the morning?

Would you have stayed?

Maybe I was too gentle

when I should’ve been brave.

Maybe love needs more than quiet hands

and open doors.

But I’ll never know.

And you’ll never ask.

All that remains is this garden,

the one I watered

with hope and restraint,

and the echo of a love

that never learned to call itself yours.

[blurredlinesofrealityandfantasy]

And if you think I'm so

s w e e t

then come take a taste.

Have your fill.

Wrap your lips around my heart and take me whole, forever --

I hope you like how I taste, because I've developed a craving, too,

for you --

I can only hope I never grow too bitter for your tongue --

V. Rue, 2025.

[blurredlinesofrealityandfantasy]

"𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕥𝕒𝕝𝕜 𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕝𝕠𝕪𝕒𝕝𝕥𝕪 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕚𝕥'𝕤 𝕒 𝕨𝕖𝕒𝕡𝕠𝕟, 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕚𝕥’𝕤 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕨𝕙𝕠’𝕤 𝕓𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕓𝕓𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕪𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕒𝕔𝕜 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕚𝕥."

☽◯☾

[blurredlinesofrealityandfantasy]

“You kiss me with your mouth wide open like you’re not afraid of swallowing poison. I taste the good and bad in you and want them both. We call this bravery.”

— Anita Ofokansi, Literary Sexts

[blurredlinesofrealityandfantasy]

You are not just one thing— you are everything, all at once.

— 02/22/25, anastasiasyah

[blurredlinesofrealityandfantasy]

t/w sh

i'll cut my hair and my cheek while shaving and my wrists while hurting

I'll perform every act of self-mutilation and maybe if i cut and cut and cut myself into enough pieces maybe what they'll reassemble will be foreign enough to function.

[blurredlinesofrealityandfantasy]

Did I ever truly know you?

If I vanish long enough, will your face still haunt me?

Will I still see you when I close my eyes,

or will the memory of you fade with time?

Did I even love you, or was it just a shadow I chased?

When I think of you now, you’re just a blur—

a silhouette slipping through my grasp,

impossible to hold.

Maybe it was never meant to be,

a connection built on something hollow,

a fleeting mirage of something beautiful

that was never really there.

[blurredlinesofrealityandfantasy]

It’s disappointement. It’s stronger than any other feeling.

[blurredlinesofrealityandfantasy]

We were just a page in the book of someone’s life—

not the first, not the last,

but somewhere in between,

a few words written in ink,

before the turning of the page.

It was never meant to last forever,

just long enough to feel the weight

of what we were:

two hearts in a brief intersection,

a moment borrowed from time.

And yet, when fate decided

to close the book on us,

there was no more turning back.

The chapters that followed

kept us distant,

though we lived in the same city,

spoke the same language,

but never again would our paths cross.

You are the chapter that no one will re-read,

forgotten but not erased,

existing only in a brief, bittersweet memory.

And I, the same.

So here we are,

two stories lost in time—

maybe not the greatest love,

but a love all the same,

fated to never meet again,

in a world too small,

but still too large

to bring us back together.

[blurredlinesofrealityandfantasy]

duty | without mercy a collection of stories about people that wanted more and the magic that none of them deserved.

Gideon watched Carson move around the kitchen, raising his eyebrows at the  ingredients he lined up on the counter. He appreciated the quiet that came with Carson. Even when it came with tension, it carried the same poise his words did when he chose to share them, right down to the way he always lifted his chin and stilled his hands when he spoke.

Carson caught him staring but said nothing, only held his gaze while he reached for a knife. He handled the blade with more experience than a probably-twenty-something should have.

He’s young, Gideon thought to himself and he pursed his lips when he looked away. He’d been Carson’s age when he caught Elias’ attention for the first time. Not that he’d been anything like Carson—he shivered at the recklessness he’d carried with him through at the start of his university career. Then he shivered again at the thought of Elias.

“Are you cold?”

Gideon turned and flashed a smile. “Not at all,” he said. “Would you like help?”

Carson’s chopping slowed to a halt and his eyebrows lifted. He looked up. “You don’t cook,” he said.

“I’m really good with knives though.”

Keep reading

[blurredlinesofrealityandfantasy]

i love like a dog.

i chase my lover

through the hallways of his home

the floors shiny, the walls pristine

untouched by my filthy paws.

i love like a dog .

i play in the dirt too often

and let my nails grow out too long

i don't know how to wash myself you see,

how to dull the sharpness given to me.

i muddy the floors and scratch the walls,

i wet myself in the muck outside

when my lover comes back,

i wag my tail,

and splatter the filth all onto him.

first time come, he simply laughs

teeth all white and gleaming

the sound like a windchime

when a lonely gust goes by.

i fall in love with his brilliant smile.

.

i love like a dog.

by the doorway of my lover's home

i lay in wait with a patient heart

watching the roads for his bright blue shirt

and listening for the soft timbre of his voice.

i love like a dog.

much of the world is brown and gray

and too many sounds collide.

nothing makes sense inside my head

i try to fill it with him instead.

when he comes home

the door's been scratched

the chair leg's been chewed too.

i spread my teeth into a grin

while my gums have been splintered through.

.

i love like a dog.

my lover's open palm

is the closest thing I have to a god

i crave for the hand that feeds me

for i know no other that is so holy.

i love like a dog.

when he holds his hand out to pet me

i mistake it as an offering

my teeth meet flesh, taste blood

and remember, too late, his mortality.

i lurch back with a whimper,

heart rabid with guilt

my mouth filled with a terrible copper

i am not a violent dog-

i don't know why I bite.

.

i love like a dog.

my body is built to damage-

with my sharp teeth, my long nails

muscles stretched taut against my bones.

there is no world where I don't destroy.

i love like a dog.

the whip of my lover's tongue

lashes sharply against my hide

i muffle my yelp and cower

insulating the pain with my guilt.

[blurredlinesofrealityandfantasy]

I am not meant for casual love. I was born for soul consuming love and obsession.