this is a place for words,
nothing less than that,
but perhaps just a bit more.

your sleepy words make me ache

  1. I left my favorite pair of underwear at your house. I know your mother hates me, can I come pick them up?
  2. It’s been almost a month and I still miss you like a fucking limb.
  3. I didn’t know my bones could ache until I met you.
  4. You know, a week before we broke up, do you remember? I had bought a book of poetry. You asked why I didn’t read something more interesting and I could feel my insides splinter.
  5. You said poetry was all lies dressed up to sound pretty. When I look at you these days, I want to ask if sadness sounds pretty to you too.
  6. It’s 3 a.m. and this alcohol tastes like you.
  7. I saw you staring at me today during Lit class. I smiled at you and you didn’t smile back. I almost cried.
  8. The girl who sits next to me smells like you.
  9. I miss you.
  10. I have never had so many bad nights.
  11. Sometimes I write poetry about you on the internet. Strangers who have never met either of us think you’re cruel – they tell me if they had the honor of loving me, we’d have sex three times a day and they’d scream my name when they came.
  12. They think it is beautiful, how I am broken. I don’t think they understand.
  13. You used to tell me I was beautiful. I tried saying it in the mirror the other day, but it sounded wrong without your mouth wrapped around it.
  14. Everything I say sounds wrong without your mouth wrapped around it.
  15. We were never in love, but, oh God, we could have been.

"15 Texts I Almost Sent You" by d.a.s (via lullabysounds)

(Source: backshelfpoet)

poison and wine [levi/mikasa]


They hurt each other just enough with words that ran rivers deep, with hands that bruised and kisses that stained their skin purple with flecks of blue. They liked the hurt, the ugliness they saw in each other’s eyes. It meant they never had to look in a mirror.

Just enough to keep coming back for more, their need ate at them. It was a ghost that pushed the sheets around their ankles and dragged them out of bed, down the dimly lit corridors, and to each other.

It was a lonely apparition that made her kiss him and him kiss her back. Levi kissed her hard and fast until they were breathless. Pressed up against the wall, against each other he could feel every inch of her. His hand was between her legs and the tip of his tongue on her pulse. Her eyes were closed. Squeezed tightly shut. There was no light coming in. He traced her lips with his. Mikasa could feel him smile. It was the gentlest he had ever touched another person. He never touched her like that again. There was always a flicker. They knew what they were doing even if they gave no voice to it.         

They never talked about that kiss. They never talked. Not about unimportant things, anyway. They talked strategy, about survival, about Eren. Levi loved seeing her crack. He was her heart. The reason she drew breath. It wasn’t that Levi was jealous. No. He had her how he wanted her, where he wanted her, when he wanted her. Jealousy wasn’t the same as possession. It wasn’t a beast that swallowed him whole.

They were a good team, in and out of the bedroom. No one could deny that. Not even them.

Her words scratched open a wound. Something he had long since forgotten about or felt – a scar that drummed incessantly under his bony chest. She was a cancer – killing him slowly, softly, but most painfully. The way she looked sprawled under him: her black hair strewn against the white of the pillow, her eyes glinting in the darkness, her mouth red from the bristle of his five o’clock shadow. He was never on top for long. It was a game they played and he never wanted it to end. Her arms and legs wrapped around him. He didn’t know if she was holding on for dear life or trying to devour him. Either way he smirked, his teeth scraping against her throat. He was the bigger monster.

He wasn’t sated on the taste she left in his mouth or the scratches she trailed down his back – he craved more. Bite marks faded away and her smell was always gone by the morning.    

If she died he wouldn’t have anything to remember her by. Not like that stupid scarf she always wore. Even when his fingers were curled inside her and she was moaning his name.

He wouldn’t let her die. Not without him.  

“I don’t know what this is, but I don’t want it to stop.” He breathed huskily. Her face was pushed into a pillow and his hands gripped her hips.

“This? This is sex.” Mikasa didn’t have to see his eyes to know how hurt he was.

But there was always more, with her with them.

He laughed all teeth. No eyes, no heart. He looked like a jackal after it had killed its prey. Blood on its muzzle, hunger beating in its eyes.

Levi leaned down, kissing the bumps of her spine. He brushed her hair aside, his breath hot against her ear and whispered, “Whatever you say.”

He was the lie she breathed into her lungs.

It was her game, her rules. But he wasn’t a pawn. No he was the king.

i’m sorry i came to know you

my love life is a bunch of disappointment, commitment issues, and unrequited feelings



when the night is clear and you can see the millions of stars all i want to do is stop what i’m doing and lie down and watch the stars.

i feel very cute and warm inside but also kind of empty

i think it’s nice because i felt worse yesterday


When Hades decided he loved this girl
he built for her a duplicate of earth,
everything the same, down to the meadow,
but with a bed added.
Everything the same, including sunlight,
because it would be hard on a young girl
to go so quickly from bright light to utter darkness

Gradually, he thought, he’d introduce the night,
first as the shadows of fluttering leaves.
Then moon, then stars. Then no moon, no stars.
Let Persephone get used to it slowly.
In the end, he thought, she’d find it comforting.

A replica of earth
except there was love here.
Doesn’t everyone want love?

He waited many years,
building a world, watching
Persephone in the meadow.
Persephone, a smeller, a taster.
If you have one appetite, he thought,
you have them all.

Doesn’t everyone want to feel in the night
the beloved body, compass, polestar,
to hear the quiet breathing that says
I am alive, that means also
you are alive, because you hear me,
you are here with me. And when one turns,
the other turns—

That’s what he felt, the lord of darkness,
looking at the world he had
constructed for Persephone. It never crossed his mind
that there’d be no more smelling here,
certainly no more eating.

Guilt? Terror? The fear of love?
These things he couldn’t imagine;
no lover ever imagines them.

He dreams, he wonders what to call this place.
First he thinks: The New Hell. Then: The Garden.
In the end, he decides to name it
Persephone’s Girlhood.

A soft light rising above the level meadow,
behind the bed. He takes her in his arms.
He wants to say I love you, nothing can hurt you

but he thinks
this is a lie, so he says in the end
you’re dead, nothing can hurt you
which seems to him
a more promising beginning, more true.


—Louise Glück, A Myth of Devotion (via rabbitinthemoon)