god-wept - Tumblr blog

[god-wept]

😧

[god-wept]

hii forgot to say this but I moved accounts to @deadromanticism

[god-wept]

INTRODUCING, THE JESTER. eviscerated by the hands of victorique.

I go by the pronouns he him and am fourteen years of age. ( fyolai is my inspiration. )

this account was made as a substitute to jot down my personal thoughts, problems, and philosophies—a diary of sorts. meaning, the posts here will most likely just be an amalgam of random poetry, ship fanfics, etcetera.

content is purely for the sake of my own entertainment—a hobby. due to this, activity is sporadic and updates are not consistent. I do not dedicate a fixed amount of time to any of my works, I update when I feel like it.

a general warning for the content I create : most of these fall under the category of dead dove do not eat as it is the theme I am most fond of & inspired by. discussions of religion, death, gore, and such are most likely to appear throughout my account—though, I make sure to apply the proper tags.

please do keep in mind that I am still a beginner at writing, and still have plenty of space to improve on my grammar, usage of metaphors, vocabulary, and other necessary skills to write works that appeal to my target audience. in truth, eloquence is frankly not a strong suit of mine. my wording may be excessive and over the top but I hope it isn't too much to anyone who manages to stumble upon my works. I try.

brought to you by the enigma behind @deadromanticism. * do not plagiarize, reword, or steal any of my works.

[god-wept]

hii forgot to say this but I moved accounts to @deadromanticism

[god-wept]

୧ ‧₊˚  — enchanted by the fleshless fingers of death.

lucretius, evangelos. he him. asian. minor.

hobby writing—the content I create are merely for my own entertainment, and perhaps, even to those who read my works. I do not dedicate a fixed amount of time for any of my writing; activity is sporadic.

general introduction and warnings in regards to my posts—many of these fall under the dead dove: do not eat category, proceed with caution if the discussions of sensitive topics, religious imagery, gore, and such are not to your taste.

in terms of requesting a prompt/s for me to write, please keep in mind that inspiration does not spark so frequently and that your request may not be written ever so soon. If this is understood, then I highly encourage asks and such! however, do avoid requesting nsfw ( graphic sexual content. ) or anything that is correlated to proships.

[god-wept]

glorybirth paid with blood.

warnings ; vague references to religious trauma.

author's note! chapter two!! horray!! let's hope I post consistently 😞 anyway drama 😨⁉️ kinda, kinda not

    beneath leather boots is the sound of grass crunching, nikolai walked from his abode to the holy house ; though, it was a decision made out of impulse—mind lacking the clarity of crystal.

 

     as his feet absentmindedly led him to walk the stone pathway, his thoughts linger to a spark that flickered moments prior.

 

     his brain was occupied with an indecipherable thought—he worries, anxiety seeping into the crevices of his mind until the protruded lines that made up his sense of intellect is dirtied with murky negation.

 

      yes, he worries.. yet, what is it that occupies his head so much? what is it that eats up his mind and devours it so?

 

      this cloud—fog, what is it?

 

     the gothic man then pauses, the clacking of boots cease to ring in his ears ; lip between teeth as he gnawed at the flesh, gaze lifting to meet the building he was familiarized with since the day he was birthed onto this land.

 

     the church.

 

     " Oh. " nikolai stops, staring at the building up and down like it had been the very first day he had been brought onto the sacred grounds of God.

 

     It had been years ever since.

 

     suddenly, a chill ran down his spine, and ever so slightly did the taller man's figure shake—rattled by the sudden flood of memories that wracked his head like an overwhelming stream of water rushing throughout his body, deprived of the serenity and the familiarity of chastity from God's chalice.

a giggle lets itself pass through clenched teeth.

" It seems you're still the same, hm? " his gaze met the sight of a familiar figure, a grin etched onto his lips as he crossed his arms, visage engraved with a face of amusement.

the latter blinked, moments passing before replicating the same expression from the bulkier build—lips curled into a cheshire grin as dark, violace irises held the same amusement that played across nikolai's eyes.

" I missed you, dearest Fedya. "

@god-wept! do not modify, repost, or translate any of my works.

[god-wept]

glorybirth paid with blood.

s. ynopsis ; fyolai * in which nikolai is a man who yearns for the taste of liberty—a choice of an illusion. warnings : religious imagery, discussion of weapons.

author's note! fyolai's been decaying my brain therefore I decided to write a series for them, not proofread.

part II.

imperturbable, tranquil—as the decay of sunlight approaches, the rhythm of lithe fingers remain carved onto the chiselled progress of clay in which misery—dimmed hues opted to subject their dual shadowed gaze.

the sheen of travail trekked a path along the expanse of the man's forehead ; truly, it was a sight to behold. glittering with sweat, the honeyed beam of light reflected from glass panes translate into a glimpse of heaven on earth.

lips dyed with the depth of blood, laden with withered rose : parted, almost as if he were awe—struck, eyes graced with the sight of divinity, the taste of liberty for which man yearns.

although, as if time had passed by a heartbeat, it crumbles ; visage contorted with that of creased eyebrows—fury, anguish. it was brief, a subsequent shift in this disgustingly human trait.

and again, his countenance flicks swiftly like a knife in the hands of a proficient slayer to the feeble mound of mortal flesh—murky, painted with the sheerness of dreary layers. a phantom of an exasperated sigh rests upon the edge of his lips, nikolai's arm perched atop the table by his side.

this was a normal occurrence—to him and to those whose curious gazes skimmed over his way.

along the stir of clouds and the rousing of trees, jaded embers flickered across the scene from the series of window. he stared : stagnant, a faint crossing of boredom tracing his deathly alluring features.

how sickening.

his head would turn, facing the many crafts and creations, he would stare at each and very one of the stone heads and such that decorated the room—a reminder of how he had been led astray, how these very hands could damn the purity of clay.

as though pondering, he then lets his eyes journey across the misarray of tools, pausing when his gaze met the sight of ivory scriptures stained with neat cursive writing—perhaps a request from the church of his summoning.

" Why the hell not. " a whisper to no one, lips pursed as heels clacked againt the wooden floor and then the quiet collision of the door closing.

@god-wept! do not modify, repost, or translate any of my works.

[god-wept]

thou art creature of transcience.

warnings ; mentions of blood, religious imagery, metaphorical descriptions of gore, the act of harming one's self in pursuit of divinity. or rather, the hope of it. I took the words literary nonsense and went with it. meaning can be up to anyone's interpretation.

poeticism can be ugly and beautiful, good and bad, right and wrong, righteous and evil.

as I sit on my chair—scribing hymns and whatnot, jotting down literary nonsense—a thought suddenly occurred.

I must be lonely.

it was a wordless musing from out of the blue—subtle, sudden. it was a thought pushed into the back of my skull, its existence there yet not quite. a ghost of some meaningful sentence that once roamed the tip of my tongue.

though, even as the sudden amalgam of excerpts and writing—the flick of my wrist as starry ink stained parchment—led me to come to a dreary conclusion ; somehow, it imprints itself into my head, like anxiety embers from sparksun and indeed, it is a shard of my person.

ire bursts at my skin, soared across the plane of my existence, licks it up as would a gentle yet prickly caress from the scorch of desert heat. I was subjected to pen and paper, flesh and mortality : chagrin.

and then suddenly, my fantasy ripples and cracks and becomes a broken-off piece from the mirrors of reality. mindlessly, I held my breath and braced myself from nonexistent impact. tears trekking its pathway of sorrow and solitude.

my ribcage is open and in my hand is my beating heart, it bleeds sanguine as red as the seeds of pomegranate. it was a desperate attempt after scars etched themselves onto my skin—a constant reminder of my humanity.

I will never bleed gold, ichor ; I am not divine—rather, the epitome of vice.

undoubtedly so, I am human, was a human, and will be a human ; in this perpetual cycle of blasphemy from playing a higher being and throughout this arduous journey of chasing my false stoicism.

@god-wept do not reproduce, modify, or plagiarize my writing.

[god-wept]

I GOT OCCUPIED WITH SCHOOL AND HAVENT WRITTEN EVEN A QUARTER OF IT HELPPP writers block also piled onto it 😞😞😞😞

I might. MIGHT. just write a chigiri fic. who knows.

[god-wept]

starjump.

s. ynopsis. in which you and your beloved bask under amber starlight, comforted by each other's touch. warnings ; usage of the terms babydoll & pretty girl, unadulterated fluff, light angst at the end.

maybe it's hard for you to see. with a girl like you, I could be. on the edge of ecstacy.

what's got you all gloomy, babydoll? a raise of his left brow, lips parted, voice divulged in an inquiry—words sweetened on his tongue. ginger locks tickled your cheek, chuuya leaning over to meet your eyes in an attempt to see your face. front smashed onto a random pillow, you replied—albeit reluctantly, muffled by the soft cushion you laid your face on. 's nothing. a huff as you turn your head to the side, fiddling with a random space of fabric caught between your fingers. clearly, this does nothing to convince chuuya. so, he opted to rest his chin on your lower back, haphazardly rubbing soothing circles on a spot of skin. responding by laying on your back and playing with his hair had him groaning as he asked you to interlace your fingers onto his scalp more. c'mon, pretty girl. want more of your hands. a chuckle slips past your lips, eyes glued to the vibrant shades of orange as your fingers mindlessly twirled and pulled at the tousled head of sunset. it's nice, you would think. bliss crossing your features as you let your hands take a mind of their own, lashes fluttering shut, lips curved into a small smile.

you wondered if you'd get to enjoy this moment tomorrow when he leaves once more.

@god-wept. do not modify, repost, or plagiarize.

[god-wept]

I might. MIGHT. just write a chigiri fic. who knows.

[god-wept]

I rewrote it 😼

remnants of a dream.

warnings! ╱ angst, rin being emotional &̲&̲ slapping you.

in which years have passed since you and rin had gazed at each other heart—to—heart, your connection with him devoid of the warmth that dwelled in the past.

it hurts.

it stung, it burned, and it left a blossoming imprint on your delicate skin.

remnants of sorrow clung to your lashes, tears brimming your waterline as your eyes flickered with a semblance of muddled emotion ﹔anger, woe, anguish—it was all a blur, and for that, you were at least grateful to the smeared hues of your vision for blocking the face that once held the visage of someone you loved.

It pained you, really—to witness the person who you dedicated your heart to, become an unrecognizable enigma.

silence enraptured the room and suddenly you couldn't breathe, you couldn't speak, you couldn't comprehend the way viridescent embers flashed with a tinge of apathy.

your mouth was dry, stuck together. feeble voice stuck in your throat like a hard pill to swallow.

it felt like a hundred years—when in reality—it had only been just a few seconds until you had grasped the numbing pain that seared the side of your face.

ah, it's all coming together now. and you truly wished it didn't.

the organ that hammered against your chest, like a baton to a drum—it held the heavy pool of emotions that tainted your soul as all the memories you had so, so happily made become a weapon against you.

It sheathed its blade, waiting in the shadows to stab your chest with the dull edge of your weakness to love.

a shiver runs down your spine, tears you so desperately held, threatening to spill and walk down the path of the previous streaks that carved a line from your cheek to chin.

your visage was pallid and drawn with a face of fear, the blood pumping in your veins becoming cold with every second that had passed in this room.

I'm scared.

you didn't know if you were scared to feel the flash of pain that flickered on your cheek—or, if you were afraid of losing him.

regardless, this moment had your knees bucking indefinitely, your hands motioned forward to stabilize yourself at the very least from the inevitable fall caused by the impact of such bittersweet hymns.

rin. he feels a pang of guilt in his gut, remorse carrying itself to its features from the way his brows knit together, bottom lip caught between his teeth, and his eyes. oh, his eyes.

those same eyes you used to adore, jade hues filled with such reverent affection.

It was once something you adored very much.

but now, that vision had been dirtied by the gaze he had given you. one that made you doubt—even for just a moment—if that man you saw was truly rin.

you wished you were clueless and naive and unaware of the fact that the relationship you once had was showing the cracks and flaws, the holes you both couldn't fill simply because you weren't meant to be.

admittidly, you had doubts. guilts. you wanted to believe that all of this would work out, that the cliche excuse of love can conquer all would somehow, someway, pave a path where you both could have your happily ever after.

clearly you were a fool.

as childish as can be, you latched onto that string of hope that destiny was merely testing you—merely testing how far you would go for something as fickle as love.

it appears that fate had won once again. the oh, so cruel hands of fate.

as you feel the world stop, you could only shake uncontrollably ; you were unable to let even a meek murmur out.

stupidly, you stare up at him. features contorted in disbelief as ire licks at your skin like a dog.

a hand clutched to your chest, bottom lip tucked beneath your teeth ﹔ much to your chagrin, your tears let loose and your bubbling heartache burst like a dam.

your legs give up on you, almost as if it were rubbing more salt into the wound. heart unable to carry the weight of such a heavy burden.

within that fragment of a moment, the guilt that struck rin was almost unbearable—he rushes to your side almost immediately, and you wished he didn't.

a humorless laugh spills from your rogued lips, that easily swayed side of yourself laden with a tinge of hope—it disgusted you.

why now—why now, when you're finally coming into terms with yourself and the inevitable end of your honeyed endearments, saved only for the person you offered your entire existence to, only for him to drop it to his feet and crush it without a single heed for the hurt that wisped your eyes.

It was laughable, pathetic. and it was the last straw until the rope snapped.

rue streamed down your face. you blinked to meet rin's gaze ; your own red and dreary from the amount of tears you shed.

hate is an ugly thing—but, you didn't care. didn't care how you looked to anyone anymore. a part of you wanted to curse at him, condemn him, hurt him.

even if it was only a fraction of the pain you felt whenever you were alone in your shared bedroom, crying your pitiful heart out because of him and his sharp, bitter mouth.

I'm sure it would be fair to give him a taste of the sorrow you felt, the countless curses cradled at the tip of your tongue.

you wanted to make him feel how it felt for your heart to be gouged out and stabbed with a knife ten thousand times ; you opted to shatter him, and decay as the arrow that pierced his wound.

the plug that kept him alive—and then, you leave him to bleed out.

It should be okay. he should've expected it, since you were such a petty bitch to him, as he said.

his palm is transfixed onto your shoulder, bewilderment carressing his face—it was completely and utterly ridiculous.

your vexingly gentle hold on his hand was sweet, guiding his fingers away from your touch.

the warmth lingered atop his hand, burying him with an incredulous pile of remorse ; verdant hues flickering to the imprint on your face that he made.

even so, he acts as if he hadn't just spouted the cruelest of words. as if god weren't a witness to the cold blade of his tongue spitting blasphemy towards the person he should've loved.

the expression that resides on his countenance was revoltingly innocent—it was unfathomable that a person could be such a way after raising his hand against your flesh moments prior.

his eyes were downcast, bangs shading them away from you. his lips parted, as if juggling between options for his words—voice hoarse and quiet, laced with a touch of shame.

" ( y/n ) .. I— "

your lashes fluttered shut, a pained expression engraving itself onto your visage. a wordless raise of your finger to brush a strand of hair that tickled the side of your face.

as if mustering up the courage, you let out a sigh. building up your voice as firm as it can currently be.

" I don't think I can do this anymore. "

the tone of your voice was solemn, raspy and shyed away from firming itself ; but, the words you uttered had rendered a dribble of sweat to slide down rin's forehead, eyes widening ever so slightly with dread.

his lips quivered, the impact of your declaration seeping into the crevices of his mind.

the air was almost suffocating, room tense as rin contemplated his actions.

he contemplated between bowing down at your feet, tear—struck and pathetically crying for you to stay with him ; or, letting himself stay frozen.

to let you go and chalk up your existence in his life as a dream, remnant of the affection he yearned from you. living life as he wakes up day by day without your presence in his dull world.

while rin was still stuck in his mirage, you opted to gather your bearings. muffled footsteps growing ever so closer to the door.

" please. "

the unfamiliar sound made you pause in your steps—rin?

the faint sound of shuffling made you intake a deep inhale, deciding to stay for a moment. to witness the prideful itoshi rin crumbling beneath you.

it was bittersweet.

had he done this ages ago—had he threw his pride as you did to dedicate yourself to him, you both would've had the sliver of a chance of having a different outcome for your fallen relationship.

but unfortunately, time is an extremely valuable currency. and it was wasted on stupid choices.

all you could do was let a smile spread across your lips.

the kind that weighed no sincerity, faux merriment.

devoid of the love rin had grown used to, the one reserved only for him.

he'd lost your love.

he laments making mistakes in the past, etching scars unable to be healed even as time passes by ; he was dumb, arrogant—selfish.

and he swore he felt the world shatter before his eyes, broken into a million shards—hopeless in fixing it, impossible to put back together to what it once was.

desperation chained his body, a sudden surge within him making his legs move—to chase after the light that once shone above his world.

ah.

a tear rolls down your cheek.

itoshi rin, you heartless fucking bastard.

you made me wait years for this—I endured long years of your indifference to me and I accepted that you'd never change. that we don't work together—but, when i finally, finally let you go, you come running to me?

you wanted to scream those words at him—truly—but your mouth was tight together and refused to let a single sound past your lips.

" I'm sorry. "

he whispered it so tenderly into your ear, honeyed and lilt with regret—phantom of a kiss ghosting over your shoulder.

you bit your lip, enough to draw out blood, and calmed your shaking body.

a hand you raise goes to his cheek, cupping the flesh as you gazed up at him.

" .... I'm sorry. "

rin lets his face fall to the column of your neck, inhaling your scent as his face twisted with hurt, your palm moving to the crown of his head, patting the tousled green of silky strands.

" I know you are. "

you hushed him and he looks up at you, opening his mouth to speak—but, you cut him off.

" that's my last parting gift to you, itoshi. "

slowly, you remove his towering frame from you, watching as his eyes widen—his heart falling to his stomach at the name you used on him ; knuckles clutched and fist shaking.

you smile at him, turning your back towards the shaking boy and angling your neck to meet his face from behind.

" have a nice life. "

and then you left. exiting his apartment with ruined makeup and face scrunched as you weeped with a heavy heart.

@god-wept! do not plagiarize, repost, or translate.

[god-wept]

reo the type of guy to listen to break up songs when nagi went off to make friends 😭😭😭💀💀💀

[god-wept]

converting unsuspecting victims into chigireoism.

if you see this, you are now obligated to scream, cry, throw up, and go insane because of chigireo. this is a threat.

[god-wept]

rosettes.

s. ynopsis ; in which chigiri buys a new shampoo, to which reo reciprocates by admitting he didn't like the scent. ❛ warnings! none, just chigireo fluff. not proofread. lowercase intended, bolded italics indicate dialogue.

hm. a gentle hum spills from rose—laden lips, rouged petals pursed in pondering as chigiri eyes the bottle of shampoo in his grasp. with cerise gaze squinting in between the usual container of rose he used often and the unfamiliar bottle of coconut milk shampoo.

he had seen reviews for the latter, it was filled with compliments from satisfied customers and it had chigiri contemplating between ditching his signature hair product for a new one.

well, it wouldn't hurt to try it out.

with that in mind, he had placed the rose rinse on its proper shelf and kept the coconut milk hair product—walking towards the cash register to pay for the grocery.

upon unlocking the door, it was already midday when chigiri had gotten home to his shared apartment with reo ; the lights were closed and it led him to quietly fix up the groceries so as to not wake a certain purple head who he assumed had gone to dreamland by now.

his steps were light, weighing to that of a delicate feather colliding with the force of a cloud atop the contrasting grey of stone.

princess? a shudder runs down chigiri's spine at the sudden intrusion cutting through the silent humming of the quiet air, blood growing cold if not for the way his brain had the hoarse tone of his voice engraved and memorized. the same voice that cradled the promises they made with each other—reo's voice.

sorry, did I wake you? he replies without locking eyes with the other, wordlessly taking a hold of the last box of cereal he needed to store.

reo rubs his eyes, stifling a yawn with his palm, voice groggy and laced with sleep—nope. clearly, he was lying ; chigiri only responds with a snort.

you must've slept well, huh? a brow raised, lips curved into a teasing smile—cherry eyes referring to the streak of spit trailing down the corners of his lips. a pair of long limbs encompass him into a hug ; reo's head perched onto the column of chigiri's neck as he sighed, lashes fluttering shut to brush his lips past his ear down to his back.

mm, missed you. fingers twirl with strands of rosen locks, I've only been gone for like 20 minutes, chigiri feels a huff against the back of his neck—exactly, too damn long.

chigiri hums, pressing a kiss on reo's cheek before walking towards the bathroom. I'm all sweaty and gross—let's continue this later, 'kay, spoiled rich kid?

a roll of violet and upper limbs crossing over the other for a moment, spoiled rich kid pouts and walks towards the couch, grabbing ahold of the remote and putting on some random tv show while laying his head on the armrest—legs haphazardly thrown on the sofa, arm propped up to his cheek as his eyes reflected the show he watched without a single thought.

the sounds of water crashing against the marble tiles bounced between the pristine white of the surprisingly grandeur bathroom, it was a comforting type of noise to chigiri—it was a place he considered to be his solace, save for the person he adored, he had always loved to be alone in the shower.

he lets out a random tune while incorporating the shampoo into his hair, deft fingers massaging the foamy substance.

while the sounds of showering drown out the melody that spilled from his lips, somehow, reo's aware of the habit ; finding it just endearing.

chigiri's unaware of this though, choosing to keep it to himself. it's not that he's embarrassed, he just feels that there was no need to say it to anyone.

finally, the shower's off and chigiri grabs a towel to wipe himself down, opting to wear a bathrobe before proceeding with his usual routine.

dressing himself with a pair of comfortable sleepwear, chigiri steps out of the bathroom, earning himself a teasing finally from reo—which in turn only gets him a glare.

joining the purple head in his antics, chigiri lets himself be held by the other, head falling to reo's shoulder as his gaze is on the ceiling ; slowly, his eyes flutter shut, prettily.

I don't like your new shampoo, princess. brows knitted together in confusion at the sudden proclamation, and there goes my peace and quiet.

really? he receives a hum as a retort, reo cupping chigiri's face to meet his. his touch was soft, gentle—it was a sweet reminder of how lucky they both were to have each other, and the comforting warmth that they shared.

reo's gaze flickered with intensity as he studied chigiri's face up close, smiling as he graces his cheek with a kiss. would be better if you used my shampoo instead so people know just who exactly owns you, yeah?

cringeeeee. now, who told you that'd be a good idea to say? chigiri lets out a tiny giggle, reo pouting as he murmured something along the lines of I'm serious ..

after probably what felt like hours of playful banter between the two, the couple finally let themselves fall asleep, safe in each other's arms.

@god-wept! do not plagiarize, translate, or repost.

[god-wept]

north star.

s. ynopsis ; in which itoshi rin is enamoured by an ardent star of viridescent shades. * warnings : angst, unrequited love ( ? ) not proofread.

amidst the sea of stars, he was the one who caught his eye. truly, it was inevitable. itoshi rin was attracted to his carefree way of life, vitality rushing through him—hued by the green of florals.

he burned with wanderlust, flickered with the blossom of freedom, and core engraved with the lyrics of ardour.

though, he only brushed it off as a pure curiosity. but, really, who wouldn't be curious of the way his skin gleamed under sunlight, flesh tinted of verdant grass, and features unlike that of a mere human.

though, no matter how many times his jaded gaze would flicker for a glimpse of him, he would convince himself that he wasn't infatuated—no, he couldn't be.

but, the ogre was making it so much harder for him to keep these childish feelings bottled up. finding himself yearning for his loving gaze whenever starlight died and fell like an angel from the heavens, whenever he comes across the sight of even just the colour green.

why was he so endearing? scintillating with beauty, rin would find himself trailing his pretty gaze down to his lips.

and oh, how he wanted to connect them with his ; to claim the ogre referred to as shrek.

his name rolls out of his tongue like a hymn laced with honey, so sickeningly sweet.

but, the feelings he harboured were forbidden. and so, like a tragic romance, he could only view from afar as years pass by— truly, he feels his heart shatter at the sight of children that held shrek's adorable features.

and all rin could do was accept it. accept the fact that he had never been the one in shrek's heart. that he was merely the second male lead.

accept that he has been claimed by someone else.

@god-wept! do not plagiarize, translate, or repost.

[god-wept]

epitome of sin ﹐ vessel of evil.

s. ynopsis ; mortality is a weakness, fragile mounds of flesh—built of egotism &̲&̲ cursed with vanity. unfortunately, you were a darling of naivety. wavered by the deceit of accursed children of the night.

❛ ﹠> caution! dead dove do not eat; death, gore, religious imagery.

author speaks! — short drabble, supposed to be an itoshi rin fic but with its ambiguous description of the character's features, could also be seen as any pairing you so wish to envision with this. I hope it's to your liking, thanks for reading!

daylight carves your face, honeydew glimmer rousing you from a slumber that felt as sweet as the month of may. 

the air was touched with sugary florescence, warmed as the sun caressed your idle form, laid atop silk sheets and velvety cushions.

oh, how you wished your story started with mornings from cliche romance novels—or, perhaps, it should've been what happened.

perhaps.

if only you had been good, obeyed your parents instead of letting curiosity get the best of you. had you not let yourself be swayed by the devilish guise of fanged creatures, would you have still been a character that lived in solace beside your precious family.

if only you had played the part and worn the facade of a docile child, you wouldn't have been a mangled mess of guts and torn flesh. you wouldn't have been crumbled to a mere sight of carmine carnage, not stained with the grotesque vermillion of sanguine ; as red as the rouge that hued the beauty you once held before becoming a corpse waiting for the hands of glory—end to take your soul from the land of the damned.

your brittle skeleton, your bones—he promised, would a cathedral be built around the remains of your existence. as his devotion becomes violent, ecstasy is painted across his ivory face, stardust of your crumbled core imbue the air ; remnants of hearth, it seared your corpse, phantom of a hug so disgustingly sweet around your body devoid of vitality.

and this was the creature of blood—lust's oath.

twisted romance, ardor—frenzied ; you were but unfortunate prey who, by fate's hands, stepped into the tangled mess of a trap.

by god, only the flash of your life's cherished moments crossed your mind, leaving a bitter taste of regret at the tip of your tongue. lament, mourn, and weep for the person you once were.

@god-wept! do not plagiarize, repost, or translate.