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#romantic prose
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Hidden in a secret place, Somewhere Between half-light and half-darkness, Between pain and tenderness, Between adoration and contempt, Between indifference and love, My trembling heart is waiting To be found and touched by you.
— the-dose-makes-the-poison
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ardent-reflections · 8 months
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In one kiss, you'll know all I haven't said.
Pablo Neruda
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aminadeux · 4 months
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I am simply not made for people, but for restless winds and lonely horizons. For my heart is boundless clear and in those realms I find my home.
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terra-magnum · 1 year
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There’s something intangible in the way your hands glide across the paper. It’s as if you’re playing with water—sculpting the fleeting beauty of life, and immortalizing it within the pages of a high school notebook.
If only you knew how mesmerizing you are—the way your eyes gaze upon your next portrait subject or the way your fingers weave perfect strokes.
And then, you smiled.
My universe stopped when I saw your eyes form crescent moons—the only twinkle I’d dare stare at even if it meant being blind moments after. Your very existence rendered me whole. It’s something inexplicable yet so clear at the same time.
You see, I never thought I’d be able to write again. I never thought I’d have the courage to play with fire—jotting down the mundane moments of life and finding beauty in their raw forms.
But you came along and suddenly, rhymes and rhythms threatened to spill out the inks of my pen. Your name is enough to make me write sonnets from its sweet syllables. Your tantalizing gazes give me butterflies, enough to erupt into poetic freedom.
There’s something so lethal in the way you give me life.
And maybe, I’d die if it meant living this lifetime with you.
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ctrlheartdel · 2 years
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He told me I was like an antique grandfather clock. Intricate and beautiful. He wants to see me work forever but just doesn’t have the tools.
I don’t want to be a fucking intricate anything. I only want to be simple to love. I want to hear him say ‘it is most pleasing to love and be loved by you’. I’d rather be plain than beautiful if it meant you could enter me fully equipped to stay.
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shantalangel · 2 years
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Little Murdoc-centered romantic, fluff and humor fanfiction with unusual pairing (f/m; canon character, but not Paula, and of course, not Noodle; I bet you don't remember her)). Part of my Gorillaz currently being written series of stories (main genre: adventure, mystery, friendship; the rest are added).
Murdoc is still Murdoc (in a good way :), but he's not that psych-broken agressive person from canon.
No need to know canon to read this.
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bebx · 6 months
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fromdarzaitoleeza · 4 months
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{Quotes marguaxpoetry on Instagram / Sarah Kay}
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bebs-art-gallery · 4 months
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The Incredulity of Saint Thomas by Caravaggio † Prose by @bebx (♡)
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somedarkhollow · 5 months
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Dimly lit, I sit on the velvet, floral sofa that was once mine and is now ours. I see our art hung side by side on the walls. Our books are neighbors, tucked tidily into the book shelves like row houses on a coveted city block. Your bed becomes our bed, and we share a tee shirt drawer. The chores get assigned and we take turns cutting eachother slack as the daily wear and tear of working in our mid twenties snags the weft of routine we've tried so hard to set. Unraveling, we collide into one as often as possible, as a way of reminding ourselves we're still here and we still have each other even on days that seem to stretch us in every direction, pulling us farther apart until there's an ocean between where our minds are occupied and where we lie in our bed. It's not to say anything of our love, but to acknowledge the triumph of maintaining it. And soon there will be a literal ocean and I will be miles away from you as the tug of a career I have yet to make up my mind over pulls me out of our bed and onto a distant shore. We've done this before, but it can still feel scary. I have to remind myself, on nights like this one when I can't seem to find calm in my body, when I crawl out of our bed and onto our couch, when I take to writing after composing proves unfruitful, that I can believe the words you tell me and I can have faith in our love.
In the tense depths of arguing and crying early on in our time of living together, we stood in the kitchen, leaning on the counters when I remember finally spitting out words that I felt so nervous to say:
"We're holding on too tightly, we have to let each other go."
There was no intention of an end in either of our hearts, my eyes met yours and you repeated what I had said, nodding. We fell into one another and cried, softly. This, this is what had been missing in the flings of my yesteryear. The strength of letting faith and trust tether us together, allowing for light to shine in the spaces between. The power to trust that no matter how tight my grasp, I cannot change the course of time, I cannot lock your heart to mine and throw away the key. It's the realization that relationships that are meant to last will, and acknowledging the frailty of them while trusting in their resilience is the only security that means anything.
With the windows open in our apartment, our windows, I listen to the violent howl of the cars racing down Broad Street. I finish my thoughts, turn off the lights, and get back into our bed with you.
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julygirl67 · 6 months
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She looked into his eyes and drowned into an abyss of desire she had never experienced before
it was fuled by his energy his charm and the warmth of his arms
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Why do we behave so foolishly when it comes to love? I really don't know. I run to my own ruin with my eyes and my arms wide open. This little spark of defiant hope is enough for me to follow my feelings against all odds. And in that moment when I walk straight into the trap, I do it with a fierce smile on my lips, utterly convinced that I can outwit my fate …
— the-dose-makes-the-poison
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ardent-reflections · 9 months
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I do believe his mouth is heaven, his kisses falling over me like stars.
Richard Siken
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aminadeux · 4 months
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Her flesh, waiting, feverish, desiring his touch. Like an untamed animal, she was laying down before his eyes, emanating the fragrance of a bloomed burning rose sitting in the rain (...) there, in that moment, both of them turned into two strains of flames intertwined, becoming one eternal pulsating torch.
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stonedword · 6 months
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Your touch felt like whispers⁣
that I would never hear again.⁣
|S.WORD © ⁣
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becomingvecna · 5 months
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words by me
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