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- Reads 17
- Votes 4
- Parts 4
Ongoing9m
Last published Sun, Jul 5, 2020
she looks like daylight and a drama movie
her voice sounds like a faint summer rain smells like vanilla and cinammon
in her bedsheets, remains a lavender scent
her eyes, you see desire glistening
slightly similar to a tv screen glitching
she tastes like bad decisions
you feel it once you kiss her
meds dancing in her bloodstream
from the doorway where she lingers
champagne on ice and fire in her heart
deadly sins scattered on the floor
she's always so needy
trying her best to please him
he's home from work, and asks for whiskey
no time's wasted while being obedient
her heart cracks at the poor scene
when she walks, you can hear the chains clicking
normal girls don't understand their feelings
they're not allowed to experience freedom
always restrained, their bodies conditioned
down your hair, don't use that much glitter
it's 9 AM, you don't need to wear red lipstick
good girls don't carry a rebel demeanor
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Broken Pieces
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ECLIPSED BY SHADOW
──── ⊹₊♕₊⊹ ──── A girl with dreams too big for the world she's trapped in, her heart full of hopes for freedom. But fate has other plans. There's someone out there... her shadow, who sees her not just as a dreamer, but as a prize to claim. He makes her believe she's winning, but in the end, he always pulls her deep into his darkness. Puppet : ~~~~~~~ He destroyed me. Tore me apart until there was nothing left to save. I can't... I can't even breathe without feeling his shadow suffocating me. He stole everything-my dreams, my peace. And now, he's chasing me. Why? To crush what's left? To make me his toy? Or worse... his love? I don't know if he wants me as his puppet to torment or his love to possess, but either way, he's unraveling me. No matter how far I run, his presence clings to me, pulling me back into his darkness each time deeper than before. Puppet Master : ~~~~~~~~~~~~ She doesn't even realize how beautiful she is when she's broken. My fragile, trembling little Doll. She thinks she can run, but she belongs to me. Her innocence calls to me like a melody I can't stop listening to, so pure, so unaware of how deeply she's already mine. Oh, let her try to escape-it only makes the hunt sweeter. I love the way she trembles, the fear in her eyes when she realizes she can't outrun her devil. I'll let her break a hundred more times, let her feel the weight of her hopeless escape. And when she's nothing but shattered glass, I'll mold her into what she was always meant to be. Mine... utterly and completely mine. Ranks:- #1 in review out of 33.8k stories. #2 in awards out of 10.5k stories #3 in alphamale out of 3.22k stories.
Thoughts of a Juvenile
Words are sharper than knife they say. Yes it is true. Some perfectly moulded good words can both make and break a heart easily. A poem is a group of such perfectly moulded words given wings to fly. They fly through the mind and heart easily. A hobby is an activity we do to express ourselves, our beliefs and our thinking. For example through drawing, dancing, singing, etcetera. Writing a poem is one of such hobbies. Here words are used. These words and messages are far more twisted. A poem hits the mind, a good poem hits the heart. Thoughts Of A Juvenile is just a collection of my poems.I started writing poems when I was 8. I may not be a great writer. But yeah I write to express. There have been times for me like many other teenagers where I thought I was lost and helpless. There have been good times too. I'm standing on the edge of teenage now, telling you that you can survive this. You can survive everything. All you need is to find your strengths. There are sad nights and then there are mornings full of opportunities. Don't give up. I'm here and I'll always be here. Whenever you feel down just remind yourself "Be stupid". Go out in public and the eat the food you like alone, ask out your crush, flirt like there's no one watching, dance like a ghost has possessed your body, prank people, have a little chat with the nerds you know. Surviving is an art not many can master. Be a Master. There are mistakes in this book and I tried my best to correct them. But couldn't correct them all. I would really love to receive reviews and criticism. Vote if you like it. Comment your views. And follow for more poems. Add it to your reading list or library.Complete
Cal Jackson's new life as a rockstar fails to account for one thing: the existence of the girl he loves. ***** "What are you thinking about?" she asks. "A song," I say. "A new song." I stare at the ocean as I sing the song that I wrote, something that comes from the darkest place of my heart. "Do you even know how gifted you are?" she whispers. "You're destined to be someone big, Cal." "Really?" "Yeah." ***** She's perfect in every way. Beautiful. Smart. Her bright future is right there in front of her eyes. While here I am. Ruined. No college, let alone a future. Just an image of a wannabe rockstar with tattoed arms and an old guitar. I knew that our story would be no less than that tragic Romeo and Juliet shit the moment I laid my eyes on her, but still, I can't resist her. The moment she whispers my name, "Cal," I lose all sanity. She becomes my melody, my lyrics, the song that keeps echoing in my ears. People call her Mia. I call her my Amy, her name crafted above my beating heart, tattoed on my skin. Amelia Davis is my girl. Mine. And only mine. ***** THE JACKSONS BOOK #1 © 2021 Anya Jayvyn. All Rights Reserved. (Content warning: This book has descriptive sexual content and explicit language)
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