ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
i. when the stars burn out,
can we still write their names down
in history books, or are
fallen stars not worth
remembering? can we
remember them, even if
they're not? can we say
they are beautiful, even if
the world disagrees? and can we
turn them into powder;
make them into
stardust?
a. some things are
more beautiful fallen
than flying. things like
stars and angels and
love.
(things like you.)
ii. if we were stardust:
i would be red
and you would be
blue. together, we
would be purple,
and
b. we would be so
beautiful.
can we still write their names down
in history books, or are
fallen stars not worth
remembering? can we
remember them, even if
they're not? can we say
they are beautiful, even if
the world disagrees? and can we
turn them into powder;
make them into
stardust?
a. some things are
more beautiful fallen
than flying. things like
stars and angels and
love.
(things like you.)
ii. if we were stardust:
i would be red
and you would be
blue. together, we
would be purple,
and
b. we would be so
beautiful.
Literature
Shooting stars
'Today I decided to give up.'
'What do you mean, on what?'
'On you, on myself. I decided tying silk ribbons on dead branches doesn't bring them back to life and there's no use in trying to fill in the blanks to all the things you never say.'
'But I do care about you.'
'I know, and somewhere in a parallel world I care about you. We're rocks tossed on a surface that never breaks and I'm tired of being the sound effects to an unmade film. You won't understand this, and I don't expect you to, but the walls turned to dust the second I started believing, And I keep dragging my fingers across the dirt and telling myself I'll find what's mis
Literature
this is...
stop:
this is the sound of stars
screaming like fireworks, and
mangled promises spilling
through trainwreck teeth. this
is the sound of lungs filling
with air and girls with brown
eyes and the whisperwhisper
of sheets on skin.
i have never heard a more eloquent silence.
look:
this is not me, this is
the purple-blue of midwest
sunsets and the hope found
between quintessential smiles
and blinding neon lights. this
is the amount of air between
worlds and words and the freckles
on your left shoulder. this is not me.
but i promise you, someday i will be incredible.
listen:
you are filled with delicate bon
Literature
glitter.
you wrote me love letters from the passenger seat,
pressing stars to my eyelids and hearts to my forehead.
you wrote me lies.
x
like the summer months, you never stick around long enough to make a lasting impression.
winter always takes over, cold
fingertips washing away all past evidence of the blistering friction once there.
(the only way I made it through was remembering that
youre only another calendar away; that youll come back.
I dont think Ill make it through this time.)
o
Id write you every word in the french-english dictionary if only one would spark a memory.
you seem unable to reminisce and
Suggested Collections
i'm not sure if i love this or hate it.
oh well.
oh well.
© 2008 - 2024 Amertie
Comments23
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
;-? Really wishing that most everything I read from you today, wouldn't make me cry.....it's hitting right into those spots that are still "mmmph" feeling some pain. Very good, once again! <<<<a. some things are
more beautiful fallen
than flying. things like
stars and angels and
love.
(things like you.)>>>>> brilliant!
more beautiful fallen
than flying. things like
stars and angels and
love.
(things like you.)>>>>> brilliant!