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Literature Text
she was a autumns leaf girl, with peach blossom hair and lovers eyes. picked from a cherry blossom tree spring was declared her mother, and the scalding wildflowers of summer her father. and the winter sleep boy, with that snow angel hair and iceberg eyes became the lover she was always seasons away from. he was gathered in the snow to be her only, the winter boy who gave the autumn girl her naive lover eyes. and he pulled the branches from her hair and collected her seeds of beauty and when fall arrived he would play her ever changing colors like a violin with his freezing fingertips. but she fell, that autumns leaf girl. she fell so far she was floating in a sun shower and she dangled herself from the balconies with a rope made of blossoms until she drown in his titanic waters. and the winter sleep boy coated the land in a snowstorm as dark and cold as his heart, he covered the trees in icicles and the ocean in icebergs and he cursed himself for not saving her. yet still their love remained, seasons away.
Literature
maybe we'll cycle like seasons
Summer never came this year.
It got hot, uncomfortably so, and you would call me every Thursday like clockwork. Like always. But the taste in the air was different, so were the things you would say to me.
I spent the long nights, curled in my front window, watching the fireflies flicker in the yard. Letting them blaze and die before my eyes until I couldn't pretend to be okay doing this anymore so I would pull the curtains shut and hang up on you. Hang up on the only semblance of normalcy to split up these warm days.
The sky was pinpricked with stars--always brighter in the warm evening air and the lawn was sprinkled with violets agai
Literature
these feelings should be finite
I'm terrified and I know there's nothing unique about this, but I'm standing here completely out of touch with the rest of the world, realizing for the first time that we all feel things a little bit differently, which is why this doesn't hurt for you at all. I figure the only logical reason for how you could do this as if it means nothing was if it really did mean nothing at all for you. It's easier to hate you this way. It's easier to forget you without the burn of your kiss against my skin. It's easier to stay mad if I don't have to remember the way that it felt. Most of all, I can forget this as if it's a memory in someone else's lifetime
Literature
Running Away
"What are you afraid of?" He had asked her as they lay there, under a bay window that showed a velvet black sky, sprinkled with sparkling diamonds. After a few minutes, a hand reached out and took his. He looked down at the soft hand, paper white with rivulets of sapphire under the skin. It had never occurred to him just how much he loved her hands until now.
"Would you like the truth? Or will a lie suffice?" A dulcet voice whispered. She had still not turned to look at him, but her hand in his remained strong.
"The truth." He always asked her for the truth. He didn't want rubies of falsehood, of lies, to ruin what they had taken so long to
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and sometimes the miles
are just as far as the seasons.
i'm not too sure about the ending.
feedback?
*please, whatever you do, don't take my work
and pass it off as your own. please, please, please. <3
© 2011 - 2024 tearsfadewithyou
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AMAZING IMAGERY. <3