~ are these the last ones / or the ones that'll last? ~

Just a few bits and pieces of poetry I've written over the years. |On-going|

الراويه : أم التوق ✍🏻 • • روايه سعوديه🇸🇦 « نقل روايتي واقتباسها يعرضك لمسائله قانونيه » اللهم بلغت اللهم فاشهد • • Instagram : jjjl1i

Virat: mahi... Please Mahi: cheeku

រឿងរ៉ាវបែបមិនធម្មតាមួយ ពីក្មេងដែលគេត្រូវគេធ្វើបាបប្រែក្លាយជាអ្នកប្រុសដែលមានអំណាចកាចមិនធម្មតា វាជាការប្ដូរវិញ្ញាណមួយចូលខ្លួនមួយទៀត ហួយ៎ ក៏ប្រែតែគេត្រូវបានដាក់ឈ្មោះថាជា omega តែប៉ុណ្ណោះ ប៉ុន្តែការដែលមានភេទជា omega គឺតែងតែត្រូវគេមើលងាយជានិច្ចព្រោះទន់ខ្សោយ តើនឹងមានរឿងអ្វីកើតឡើងក្រោយ omega តូចប្ដូរវិញ្ញាណហើយ គេបានជួបជាមួយ Mafia ម្នាក់នោះ...ហើយMafia ម្នាក់នោះជាមិត្តកាលគេនៅនឹងរាងកាយចាស់

A reminder to always find your self no matter what; because as long as you could do it, you would do it

Holaa~ Bienvenidos todos a estas pequeñas historias, empezando de nuevo :D Muchas gracias por pasarte por aquí, supongo que pronto voy a abrir los pedidos. Así que puedes disfrutar mientras tanto las historias que tengo ahora, puedes leer las aclaraciones o las etiquetas para saber que anime o de que escribo. Gracias <3! Créditos a quien corresponda por todos los personajes utilizados, a excepción de _______.

"When I'm you, i know how to feel."

My suicide had been two years in the making when I decided not to follow through at the last minute. Over the past decade, I've written poems, books, short stories, fanfiction and hundreds of thousands of words, but nothing felt complete. This collection of selected works was meant to be my final offering- the only thing ready for posthumous publication. Blood Orange Periphery includes poems written in the months preceding the end-that-didn't-happen, some of my best teenage scribbles, and journal entries that chronicle the transition from death-planning, to recalibrating life.

MELANCHOLY | Melancholy drips from my fingertips. SOON TO BE A PUBLISHED PAPERBACK. COMING 2025! This melancholy drips from my fingertips so slowly, you begin to forget I even exist. All of me, the hard parts of flesh you could never seem to love, drips down the drain. I am waiting for the day for your fingers to unscrew the pipes, dig through debris and mess, scrape your heart against the rust, just to find me, so we can go through it all over again. Here, in the pages I find myself, in the ink that writes against my flesh, I will whisper the sadness, the heartache, and the decaying for all of the unspoken. Perhaps under this layer of melancholy, the girl I once knew still exists.    First poetry collection in the series. Original poems based off real life experiences. #12 in poetry. Cover template made by @KaleidoGraphix on Canva. 𝑴𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒚 copyright © May Garner. 2017. All Rights Reserved.