I’m not sure if it’s just me, but I really don’t see any effort from you. Just empty promises over empty promises.
Since you don’t want to put in any effort, I guess I shouldn’t too.
No matter how dark you may be feeling right now, no matter how low you may get, have faith in yourself that you can get better, because if you believe you can get better…
- YOU.
- WILL.
lieusaint, writing prompt #73: Write about the lessons you learned this year. (via wnq-writers)
(Source: wnq-writers.com, via wnq-writers)
Have you ever been burned by love? It leaves a different kind of scar–a scar unseen to the eye; one that, despite it being healed, can haunt you with its pain for the rest of your lifetime.
armstrong0123, writing prompt #72, write about December
(via wnq-writers)
(Source: wnq-writers.com, via wnq-writers)
december,
a time of jolly cheers & masquerade
yet my heart still yearns for solace
some days great, some days grief
each day is a new world of suspense
minor gestures of joy spring in
a smile or two, life speakings bless
yet i find myself missing a touch
that only was a moment’s lastdecember,
i thank you for who you are
but more importantly
you teach me how to love (in spite of)
tears soak my pillow as the ground freezes
but i dry my eyes before the world knows
whether it’s weather or just my broken heart
i refuse to let the darkness of december
pull me away from the crisp sun’s awakening
i shall triumph! i shall remain steadfast!december,
you will not fool me
for june will see me smile & my eyes
will fall tears of joy
methuselah87, writing prompt #73: Write about the lessons you learned this year.
(via wnq-writers)
(Source: wnq-writers.com, via wnq-writers)
The kinda boys that get the girls
Are often the same ones who kill her
Letting them feel comfortable, frail,
Unbreakable. The kinda boys that
Wile her with eyes of ember black,
Grey, and blue, a spark that pointedly
Reaches his smile. The kinda boys
That get the girls allow her to make
Homes of their bodies and lockets
Of their hearts, hollowing them out
Inside and taking themselves apart.The kinda boys who get the girls
Break her with a glance. He shreds
Her with his fingertips, trailing in a
Dance on a leg that isn’t hers. He
Rips out her locket and tarnishes it
With his kiss; his lies fill her once-
Pretty heart with piss. Her perfect
Body is ruined. Her heart is cold.
Now they say ‘b*tch’ instead of ‘bold.’
She cuts off her hair, ends her long
Silent streak - she realizes she is the
Queen of the world, at the peak
Of her life with nothing left, nothing
To lose. Nothing at all. The kind of
Boys who get the girls make her
Regret her lace, her frills, and her curls.
