Poems to the Five Men I've Loved1.
I don’t think you ever really knew
how to hold someone’s hand.
It took me years to realize
that when you described yourself as a hero for saying “I love you,
because no one else will,”
you truly believed you were making a sacrifice
in having to cover up my breaths
when I mouthed “No.”
Maps reminded me of veins and lifelines;
sometimes I wondered whether or not my palm had you written in it.
Until they started looking a lot of the lines you drew in the sand to separate us.
I wrote you interstate lovesongs
whose envelopes I found torn open on your car floor.
Nowadays I’ve learned that if you drive fast enough
all those papers with my love written on it
will grow wings and fly right out of the window.
I think that it seems fitting
because being with you
was like holding my head out of the window in a southbound lane
knowing I’d eventually be torn to shreds.
For a second though,
I swore we were flying.
I spent two months on your
# Bookstruck: Do You Wanna Hear a Story?Category: Movie Crossover » Frozen | Tangled
Type: Gift FanFic
Genres: Fantasy | Angst | Hurt/Comfort | Friendship
Character A: (Child) Eugene Fitzherbert/Flynn Rider
Character B: (Child) Elsa
# B O O K S T R U C K
Do You Wanna Hear a Story?
❅ (i was the yesterday waiting for my tomorrow; you were the future running from your today...)
"You're hiding in the library again too, huh?" He'd pat her head like a kitten's, with the flat base of his palm, doing what he did to all children without childhoods. "Don't cry,"―pat, pat―"do you wanna hear a story?"
The stories in question were redundant. Swashbucklers. Adventurers. Nobles. Rogues. Figure
C l a r i t yCategory: Movie Crossover » Frozen | Tangled
Genres: Fantasy | Angst | Hurt/Comfort | Romance | Tragedy
Character A: Eugene Fitzherbert/Flynn Rider
Character B: Prince Hans
Character C: Queen Elsa
Character D: Princess Anna
# Part I: The Reader & The Masquerader
If there's one thing you should know, it's that I am an original work.
I have successfully authored my own individuality, blue-penciling any errors in myself that would have stopped me from becoming the living, breathing manifestation of my own dreams (but this, ladies and gents, is just between you and me). My backstory? It's no longer an important plot point.
Because the world is peopled with rough drafts and D-list novels, I don't see bodies and faces, but characters and stories. Timeworn cliches, caricatured depth, lackluster dialogue, and indented heartbeats with underwhelm
The Boy in the Box"Uncle! Uncle! I saw the most amazing thing today!" Marie, the young girl of the most fragile looks, enters the room and approaches the old man sitting in his big chair.
"Come here, my dear," Manfred von Paulus, who looks like a giant compared to her, holds her hand and pulls her closer. The well mannered girl gently lifts her skirt a little bit upward with the tips of her fingers covered with beautiful white gloves and takes a sit which immediately makes her look like a loving child sitting in her grandfather's lap. The man allows his large hand to give a soft stroke along the young girl's very strictly tightened corset. He smiles and jokingly puts both of his hands around her waist and his thumbs and index fingers meet, his hands completely encircling her waist. "You grow up fast, but this part only keeps getting smaller and smaller. How are you holding up?"
"I am perfectly fine, uncle Manfred, I don't even feel my waist at all," she gives a smile that couldn't be that of a liar. "It