Express your heart freely

What does your heart desire to ask?   Express Your Heart  
I am making this blog to post poems and short stories that I find and like. Some pieces are my own. I would simply love if some of you wanted to submit your own works:) I hope you enjoy this blog!<3

Muscle Mandz: 9/27/13 →


I never thought I’d be that girl,

the daughter who opens her own skin to breathe;

the sister who has so many skeletons in her closet, she houses a graveyard.

I’m a ghost with a beating heart.

A shell of someone that used to have life.

Self-loathing and Prozac swim in my veins where my blood…

— 6 months ago with 5 notes
"If my son were gay,
I’d slap him
With a nice high five.
Because coming out to your dad,
Takes balls that most men don’t have.
If my son were gay,
I’d beat the hell out of him.
Because he said he was better than me
At Super Smash.
(He basically was asking
For me to kick his ass.)
If my son were gay,
I’d kick him out of the house.
Because why waste June on video games,
When there are sports to be played?
And just because he likes making out with boys,
Doesn’t mean he can’t tackle the shit out of them, too.
If my son were gay,
I’d call him a douche.
But only because this morning,
He ate the last peanut butter cup in the house.
(The jerk knows they’re my favorite.)
If my son were gay,
I’d still give him the talk.
I just wouldn’t have to worry about a baby in nine months.
If my son were gay,
I’d make fun of what he wears.
Because damn, son,
Those heels don’t go with that dress.
If my son were gay,
I’d tell him to be proud.
Because you’re human no matter the gender
On the other side of your mouth.
If my son were gay,
Nothing would be different at all.
Except that twenty years down the line,
I’ll be expecting a handsome son-in-law."
"If My Son Were Gay" - Nishat Ahmed (via 50shadesofacceptance)

(Source: sickwithsyllables, via wolf-inhumanclothing-deactivate)

— 9 months ago with 248751 notes
Big Black Sunshine: The Bedroom →


I entered the bedroom and envisioned her asleep under the creme colored blanket - the swirled black and gray patterns mimicking the slopes and shapes of her hips and legs. I had lost count of how many times I marveled at her glow and thought: My God, she is beautiful. I thought of the gentle hue…

(via samisamachine)

— 11 months ago with 39 notes
she will be loved: I forgot I wrote this. →


Dinner of Roses

Again awake
How long was I out this time?
Hunger takes over me. My stomach chimes.
I remind myself of the fall in the lake…

…blackness, darkness, fade away.

The colors of the world have faded.
My meal today is blood red roses?
The scent finds my nose. My mind, invaded.

— 1 year ago with 1 note


The flowers have died

The oasis dried

The love is dead 

But it keeps getting in my head 

(via lamortdemal-deactivated20130522)

— 1 year ago with 3 notes

Is this what it feels like?
I thought it hurt,
but really it’s numbing,
like feeling black and white.

But I thought we were sad,
when we felt this way.
But it’s like we’re “sick”
and everyone else is fine.

I try music to drown it out
but it’s so loud.
I hear the music, but listen to the voice.
Like I feel black, but I see lights.

To be honest, I don’t feel anything.
I can’t even feel me.
My mind wonders so badly,
all I can do is write.

— 1 year ago with 5 notes

She’ll smile when she thinks they’re looking,
but cries when she gets home.

They pick her last for everything,
but acts if it doesn’t bother her at all.

She feels terribly abandoned,
and hopelessly alone.

Her friends think that she’s happy,
but they will never know.

She’s on the verge of something,
gone by tomorrow’s hello.

— 1 year ago with 10 notes


I look

I sign

I need



To help

Me out

With what

I’m trying

I’m crying

I’m frying 

In a pile of


I’m dying

I’m dying  

I’m dying  

(via lamortdemal-deactivated20130522)

— 1 year ago with 3 notes
the girl I didn’t know


her eyes died slowly,
the sparkle grounded to a watery blue—
every time she saw her brother’s scars
or took out a blade on herself.

her spirit died painfully
hope squeezed out of her by the school bully
sharpened, shiny words thrown at her by
the pageant queen.

she died peacefully
finally free of all Earth’s disaster and disgust.

i laid plastic flowers by her grave
so they wouldn’t ever wilt and fade like she did.

i knew their names,
Tulip and Marigold,
yet I never knew hers.

— 1 year ago with 110 notes