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#sad prose
fatimaamerbilal · 2 years
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fatima aamer bilal, from even flesh eaters don’t want me.
[text id: i want to embrace you so closely that our bodies would become one.]
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anundiscoveredelement · 8 months
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I met a boy I think I loved in a past life. The first time we met, he sat a couple seats away from me in class and as the time ticked on he eventually looked my way and as our eyes crossed for just a second something in my heart exploded.
I never knew why but the second he walked into the room I was only aware of him and how he moved and the soft curls of his hair. I would glance out of the corner of my eye ever couple minutes to see the shape of his mouth as he talked or catch his eye, just once, like I couldn't stand to stop looking at him.
One time, he told me he liked my coat and I think I said that to him years ago, sliding the wool between my fingers, looking up at him through my lashes. I thought about his words for days after, like they were written on my bones.
My friend swears he looks at me like he is coming home from war.
I think he did, or maybe he didnt.
Maybe he never came home from the war and our love died in a foreign land and now, finally, we can lay eyes on one another again.
I swear we loved each other, but now we are strangers and I am stuck watching him, lingering in the room waiting to be acknowledged because my soul remembers and I am hoping his does as well.
We walk past each other on the sidewalk and I think of running my fingers through his curls as he gives me that small smile, but he keeps walking.
-After the After, July 2023
(s.m.)
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baul-de-frases · 7 months
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Ojalá olvidarte fuera tan fácil como sentarme a la orilla del mar y quemar las cartas que nunca te entregué.
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nipsyyy · 1 month
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Every time the question ‘how would you like to die?’ was asked,everyone around me gave answers where they chose their weapon, some said poison some said falling off a building and some said a gunshot,but I always answered that I wanted to die for someone and wanted someone to live in the guilt of my death.Not until recently did I realise the reason why I felt so,it was because for ONCE I wanted to be appreciated for the way I loved them unconditionally,and since I had never felt the same love from the other side,I only ever thought that the way they may ever acknowledge me is by my final sacrifice,dying.
That’s messed up on the third degree.
-nipuna
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an-elveinthesky · 3 months
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“Oh how could I look at you and not fall in love? You look exactly like the knife I will die upon.”
“Lovesick” by Akshita Singh
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cornerstoner13 · 5 months
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melancholia - a poem
For as long as I can remember, I’ve been drowned out by melancholia. So much so that, I’ve accepted her presence, and made a bed for her in my home. I’ve known people who consider melancholia to be a foreign feeling. But for me, she’s an old friend, who keeps weaving in and out of my life teaching me something new every time. Me and melancholia go way back. We often have sleepovers. She mostly just keeps me up, as we sit in each other's company. Sometimes, she’ll visit me on days I never would expect, and she often overstays her welcome. I've grown to accept her untimely visits. They say it’s a fleeting feeling, but they don’t know her the way I do. Me and melancholia are best friends.
✰ - k.
Literally just pulled this out of nowhere but I'm fond of it. It's literally 4:30 a.m.; I think it's time to zzz.
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judas-redeemed · 2 years
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i hurt the ones i love, but i hurt me more. it is a kind of reconciliation. only i do not stick around long enough for them to hear it. i run away when people try to love me. it is not that i do not love them. it is not even that i do not want to be loved. i have just seen enough wreckage in my life to know that i don't want to cause it anymore. i lived in a haunted house until i became a haunted house. i wanted to believe that i could be something beautiful someday. so i cut my hair & painted the walls & smiled & put up pretty pictures. but the only people that live here are ghosts. and i want your heart to keep beating. you cannot love me back to life. but if you stay, i will love you to the end of yours.
endings are never pretty, but they are still mine to hold - judas h.
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c0nangay · 4 months
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it's 2 am and im in the corner of my bathroom, fighting my inner demons for survival and i tell myself this pain isn't permanent.
each morning looking in the mirror, eyes sorer than they were a day before and i tell myself this pain isn't permanent.
looking at every happy picture or video of us, the memories-oh so haunting and telling myself this pain isn't permanent.
surrendering and drowning myself in my sad songs, because that is my idea of comfort now, this pain isn't permanent
my books drenched with teardrops and blood-this pain isn't permanent
looking at my beautiful scars that healed faster than i could ever, it doesnt hurt anymore but the pain-it isn't permanent
hiding from my friends and family because nobody likes being surrounded by a sad person, sometimes thinking they'd be happier without me, id be happier without me. telling myself it will end soon -but not knowing what kind of end.
forgetting,but never healing.
writing this right now, i know things will get better i know i have the nicest people around me,so much gratitude
i just want to be driven by the permanency of happiness rather than the death of pain.
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All my life I've been trying to paint a beautiful, happy picture of my parents to show it to the world, but no matter how many times I search the whole house I can never find the colour yellow and everytime I disappoint them a little they break all my colour bottles and now I'm only left with the colour black.
{Sasha Alex Sloan, Older/ Nayyirah Waheed/ Rupi Kaur, Milk and Honey/ Taylor Swift, Seven/ Rupi Kaur, The Sun and Her Flowers/ Rupi Kaur, Milk and Honey/ Kellin/ Conan Gray, Family Line/ Conan Gray, Family Line/ ms.anonymous}
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lunarparacosm · 7 months
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post-prank remus.
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fatimaamerbilal · 1 year
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fatima aamer bilal, from if only love could save us.
[text id: december cold, so lovingly, froze my blood and burned my skin shut. / (every wound can rest til the arrival of summer)]
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snehaunveils · 10 days
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solxs · 8 months
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El recuerdo de aquella mujer, fue durante muchos años, un trozo de cristal alojado en mi torrente sanguíneo.
Alexander Alay
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apparitionauthor · 1 month
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The Saddest Trope In All Of Fiction
In my humble opinion, this is the saddest trope, and it's fairly underused. Every time I read or watch something with this, I cry. Here it is:
Character B is dead. Character A treats their corpse like they are still alive in the moments after death.
Some examples I've read: -They hold their hand telling them they're going to be okay.
-They move a stray hair away from their face.
-They tuck them in on the cot their body was laid out on.
-They try to sit them up against the wall but their body slumps over.
-They try to sit next to them to keep them company, but their head rolls onto their shoulder, coming to rest in an unnatural way.
-They hold them close but can't feel a heart beating against theirs.
-They try to fix their collar, even though it doesn't matter now. Their shirt is stained with red.
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ughitsmimi · 2 months
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Of all the things I have loved and lost, I have loved you the most.
-mimi
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an-elveinthesky · 3 months
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Nobody agrees but friendships are more twisted than romance. Romance gives you right, romance gives you authority, your lover is just yours by oath. That’s not how it goes between two people who live on convenience not desperation.
—“Akshita Singh” (Platonic Love)
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