Seasons- Poetry
- Reads 103
- Votes 10
- Parts 28
Ongoing12m
Last published Sun, Sep 10, 2023
Original poetry By me
"You've always meant something to me, I just don't know what that is yet." --May 31st, 2023, 10:03 AM
.
Credit to cover photo photographer
.
Tws
sexual assault
gender dysphoria
death
suicide
abuse
.
This is for Marceline & Marcus
Neither of you will ever get to read it, but you always told me to write this.
.
Each part will be poems I wrote on that day, some shorter than others.
.
I have some holes in my dates because of writers block.
All Rights Reserved
#10
poetsandwriters
Join the largest storytelling communityGet personalized story recommendations, save your favourites to your library, and comment and vote to grow your community.
You may also like
Walking Into Black
Don't fear death. It does nothing for you. Death is at every turn; the challenge is if you choose to accept it or not. Don't fear pain. Pain is how you learn. Pain is the side-effect of life. If you live life fearing getting hurt...can you truly live life fully? I've felt pain. I've accepted death. I've lived, I've learned, I've drowned a few times. If all I have to show for it is small bundles of letters and words...so be it. That's more than I could have ever hoped for. Everything that means anything to me are just words. You can put anything into words. Anything and everything. You can put death into words. You can put pain into words. You can put fear into words. And I have. And you can read them, if you want. You can learn from them; learn to stop fearing, learn to stop living in the future, behind your mask. But only if you care enough to listen. I speak loud and clear, yet nobody can hear me. I am not hidden, yet nobody can find me. If they even try.Complete
Whisper's of the Soul
RANKED 1 in Poem Collection! Sussurri dell'Anima (Whispers of the Soul) is a collection of literary pieces-poems, prose, sonnets, verses, and short stories-born from the quiet corners of emotion, the places words seldom reach. Each work is a murmur from within, a tender dialogue between the self that feels and the self that listens. These pieces do not speak loudly; they breathe. They follow the delicate pulse of longing, memory, and quiet courage-the soft language of a heart learning to understand its own silence. Also, this collection includes different perspectives that I'd like to give a meaningful portrayal. Through every whisper, the soul reveals itself: fragile yet enduring, wounded yet infinite. Thank you deeply for each vote, read, and all your support. Enjoy Reading! (人*'∀｀)｡*ﾟ @myinkspeaks
The Gods of Song and Poetry
"Kala's dark, smooth skin and Kelly's pale, heavily freckled face contrasted so vibrantly I wondered how they could both be so beautiful. They were like a living yin-yang. Kala sat with legs crossed and arms on her armrests, calmly waiting for the curtains to open. Kelly was talking and laughing excitedly with people all around her. Both girls radiated energy. Kelly's was all kinetic. Kala's was pure potential. Fire sat next to water." Analee didn't have an LGBTQ community to join. In her small town, she WAS the LGBTQ community. When two new girls move into town her senior year, one older, one younger, everything changes for her. It turns out falling in love is harder than she thinks. Even with a steadfast belief in true love, Analee finds navigating romance, friendships, and family something that has to be figured out one day at a time.Complete
The Ex (Lesbian LGBT Story)
My last thought hit me. "I'm really sorry." Those would be my last words. Funny, isn't it? How we never know what our last words will be?Complete
Traveller's heart
"And what you've been looking for, has been right in front of you, you didn't dare to look back." [ A poetry collection ] #5 on poetry (11th June, 2024)
My: Poems, Stories, & Essays On Womanhood, Femininity, & Erotica
Poems, Stories, & Essays On Womanhood, Femininity, & Erotica. This mostly autobiographical work describes many of my experiences, thoughts, and ideas through several media. There's poems describing my feelings and thoughts I want to share with moments of humor included. My stories are about things that's happened in my life that I wanted to tell. Some are silly while others are important to better understand me. There's articles and short essays about my thoughts, ideas, and beliefs surrounding womanhood and my place in the world. My commentaries include notes on these works and gives additional insight on both my mind and my heart. This work is listed as mature and contains materials not suitable for people under 18.
Blood Orange Periphery / 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘺
❝The calm in my marrow spoke in muted bursts of fireworks. I was born for explosions and trying to be less.❞ 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.Complete
TL TD
"You know that I'm dying and you still want this?" I asked confused. She walked slowly to me, never taking her eyes off me. Like two piece of magnet coming together, I couldn't pull away. Resting her forehead on mine, she finally spoke "I love you"Complete
Don't fear death. It does nothing for you. Death is at every turn; the challenge is if you choose to accept it or not. Don't fear pain. Pain is how you learn. Pain is the side-effect of life. If you live life fearing getting hurt...can you truly live life fully? I've felt pain. I've accepted death. I've lived, I've learned, I've drowned a few times. If all I have to show for it is small bundles of letters and words...so be it. That's more than I could have ever hoped for. Everything that means anything to me are just words. You can put anything into words. Anything and everything. You can put death into words. You can put pain into words. You can put fear into words. And I have. And you can read them, if you want. You can learn from them; learn to stop fearing, learn to stop living in the future, behind your mask. But only if you care enough to listen. I speak loud and clear, yet nobody can hear me. I am not hidden, yet nobody can find me. If they even try.
More detailsContent Guidelines