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PersephoneShe never had a taste for pomegranates until she met him.Persephone by jessicaconk
Scared of her lust, she trembled to see the sun.
Yet, the sun did nothing to halt her desires.
So she bit her lip until it bled and prayed that her mother would never know.
As she took his hand that second time, she knew that she was all his.
Run-Out-of-Time Lovevelveteen rubies, opalescent in shape, they fall from their setting as they wither and flake.Run-Out-of-Time Love by Kassi-Kamira
what dear, just roses,
not gleaming nor clear,
but precious my dear.
why love, they're like love,
prickly and soft love
thorned love and loved love
but love nonetheless
now love, here's my love
to keep to your heart
will i have your love?
dear sweet, my sweet sweet
sweet love on your sleeve
this love like a dream
is it bittersweet?
so love, where's my love
that love that was sworn
don't say it's been torn
so love, 'twas bad love
broken apart love
sad love, unloved love
choked love, death-blow love
you say you'll love me forever. but tell me, my sweet, what happens when forever runs out of time?
When The Winds DiedWhen the wind died, everything fell over. I really do mean it; everything fell over. After years and years of wind staying above fifty miles an hour, everyone seemed to just lean into the wind, whichever direction it was blowing in. Older buildings swayed in the wind, and occasionally, the winds destroyed the buildings. Meanwhile, architects quickly came up with the idea to build the buildings that could bend and shift with the winds as the wind changed.When The Winds Died by halfangelrisesagain
Nobody could have predicted the day when the winds stopped, and when they did, everything fell down. Hundreds of people were killed and thousands more injured by falling buildings and trees, and the state went into shock because nobody knows what to do without the wind trying to push them over.
Common Human CourtesyDo you crave to know whyCommon Human Courtesy by Cibbwin
I strongly believe you're a monster?
Mind, your bulk is not comforting.
You're not the fluffy fanged type
that are scored by Karen O,
the species that just require a soothing
encouragement session with Oprah.
You're of the putrid, drippy variety,
the invertebrates with multiple tentacles.
The sort aristocratic cities employ
to keep their sewers fresh,
unpolluted and goblin-free.
Because procedures that are
common human courtesy,
operations the collective subconscious
subtly commands us to bear in mind, such as:
schlepping around a person's luggage
you've recently gathered from an airport, or
surrendering the passenger's side seat
to someone who's nine inches taller, or
offering condolences when news is shared
regarding a death in the immediate family,
never worm their way into your strangulated,
preening, completely self-obsessed mind.
However, if you truly are a monster,
then logically you shouldn't be real.
If you aren't a legitimate life form
(which I'm pret
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