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Literature

Hemingway Would Hate This

The trouble with the Boy was that he didn't have the heart of Shakespeare, the voice of Poe, nor the soul of Wordsworth, nor the knowledge of Rembrandt in his darkest days. He didn't have a trace of Michaelangelo's spirit nor the angst of Carvaggio and this on its own was enough to dissuade him from understanding that technique was far better than solidarity and possession far more ageless than youth. He didn't have any of this knowledge because his father hadn't had the courage to tell him that he needed all the qualities of these great men, to win over the heart of a woman who had the dreams of Austen, the ideas of Da Vinci and the scent o

Literature

107 deviations

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Hemingway Would Hate This by UntamedUnwanted, literature

Literature

Hemingway Would Hate This

About Honour by UntamedUnwanted, literature

Literature

About Honour

"Ever worried about what the world thought of you?" "Nope. I only worry about what I think of me." "What do you think about you?" "That I am a broken-eyed, converse-reject-wearing wise ass." "Really? And what do you call yourself?" "I call me proud." "Oh." "What do you call yourself?" "I am the grade school version of the heartbroken girl, who can't play the guitar so she strums a ukulele instead, who can't paint so she draws terrible pictures in graphite that keeps giving way." "I see you doing it again. Put the fucking pen down right now and stop it." "Stop what?" "Doing that." "What? I was just writin-" "You're cutting yoursel

is this a hangover? by annabanana9198, literature

Literature

is this a hangover?

my head hurts and my stomach is in a blender. should i be blushing? should i be crying? i don't know anything anymore. should i be singing? should i be laughing? life has turned into a never ending cycle of pudding, bicycles, pencil lead, trampolines, sketchbooks, and everything else. should i be smiling? should i be yelling? i don't know when this week started, i don't know when yesterday ended. should i be running? should i be calling? i can't even remember what's funny. should i be staring? should i be worried? my short term memory is completely shot, along with all of my emotions and recollections of such. should i be sad

good listener by annabanana9198, literature

so this is how it ends by annabanana9198, literature

Literature

so this is how it ends

my hair falls into my eyes, soaking in my salty and wet eyes, as if being dipped in icy ocean water, a few locks stick to my forehead, my body shakes violently. i cry into my pillows, my stomach crawls, but not for me, i mourn for you. forgotten wounds open, they haven't been cut by someone, thoughts of having to slice yours open, are the sharpest knives, the weapons most commonly used by my torturers. so this is how it ends, both of us bleeding, i warned you, i warned myself, but i guess neither listened. i may leave this room without a word, silently stepping over the shards of broken glass pouring out of your chest, bu

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