AnenaLynne

move like a fugitive tonight

137 Watchers32 Deviations

24.3K

Pageviews

Collections

All

570 deviations

Featured

576 deviations

conceptual and pretty things.

75 deviations

love, peace and music.

29 deviations

stars.

9 deviations

flowers and trees.

46 deviations

sky, landscapes and houses.

61 deviations

oh, nostalgia.

49 deviations

animals.

9 deviations

pictures with words.

59 deviations

pretty people.

50 deviations

beauty in the breakdown.

51 deviations

bands and movies.

13 deviations

Literature

Dreamcaught

I I was academia diluted by alcohol. Adventure was all I craved, and my heart beat only for my knowledge-thirst. Worn down to the bare bones, I was nothing but words and easy lies. We had the run of the town, the stars lighting our path to freedom. The great illusion. I was a thousand miles from home - from the ice-cracked windows and animal fur, grand halls and dusted books. Warm like cinnamon, he patched me up and sent me on my way; he was manual labour with a dash of lemonade. Dramatics and twisted fate. We could never be untangled. II Dreamcaught, he left me stranded, valuing the melodic rock of the sea, the unsteady ship beneath his

words.

89 deviations

Dreamcaught by RedBloodHotSugar, literature

Literature

Dreamcaught

sea fever by SuddenlyAutumn, literature

Literature

sea fever

The bedroom shakes with a latent Atlantic fury and he knows the storm is almost there, not because of the sea-brine scent heavy on the winds or because the greysky lighting has turned everything into an old silvertone photograph, but because of the way she rolls across the mattress and into his arms. Her long hair catches between them like a dark river and he can taste the saltspray like a promise on her lips. Thoughts stream from her faded temples, dripping down the coastline curve of her cheekbones and nestling into the pale pearl shell of her neck as he moves his thistle-worn fingertips to the hollow inlet of her hips, breakers crashing ag

cinderella died yesterday by MisfitableGrae, literature

Literature

cinderella died yesterday

"burn your tiaras, bury your fairy godmother. it's time for you to grow up now, you're no peter pan. forget never never land. stars are just burning balls of gas that are slowly running out of time- they can't hear your wishes. cast aside your dr. seuss books like you will later cast aside your bibles. after all, a fairy tale is a fairytale is a fairytale. life will teach you that. grace, you were born into a role only a very strong girl can play. see, society will hate you for being what they don't want to believe. surrender your throne, your castle is under siege. stop being fascinated with the sky, you'll never go there.

the clockwork liar by your-methamphetamine, literature

Literature

the clockwork liar

i. we dusted dreams off people like the first snowflakes of the season. you'd take one and rest it on the center of your tongue because you hated the taste of ice cream and wanted to reset what cold tasted like to you. you taught me that the cold could be bitter, and so could people's dreams. you drank out of out-of-order wells because you believed they still worked and that the government was keeping it all to itself. i never realized how insane you made me before i wrote this all down. ii. i wished on the sun because i ran out of shooting stars. and just to spite me, you began wishing on raindrops because you believed that they were so ma

Tigress by DearPoetry, literature

Literature

Tigress

She is the kind of girl who smothers herself in astronomy, New Age philosophies and coffee shop poetry. All fire and dragon scaled- She hides her tiger stripes behind bruises and ink stains, living her life by way of verse- throwing Hemingway around like insults. Writing her letters to the moon, she hides her heart underneath her own floorboards, folding blank paper birds just to set them free at 3AM. But, it's the lipstick stained collars, the rose thorned fingers, and the dead stars in her chest cavity that tell her- even a tigress can bleed.

The extremely short story by AmeliadosSantos, literature

And I will Always be the Moon by blackdahlia911, literature

Literature

And I will Always be the Moon

We have gotten so attached to these days and these months, but a deer doesn't know a Tuesday from a Thursday and a caribou can't comprehend that it was born on a September afternoon, but they can understand this instant, this moment, this breath, only now, no longer the past, and only the future when they get there, there's a healthy lack of awareness in that, escaping the fear of death but thriving off the instinct to live, everything so primal and based off gut reactions, I guess you could say ignorance is bliss, but ignorance only actually applies when it comes to humanity, oh I would like a life like that, one tha

the widow by aprilwednesday, literature

Literature

the widow

she sits in a bathtub, drenched in the warmth of late afternoon, and wonders about love. it is cliche. it is also important. her fingers slide along her chest, counting the hidden scars. seventeen that she can feel, more that she can't. but that isn't important, not right now, because she's thinking about love. it isn't passion she remembers, not fingernail scratches or gasps or quiet suggestions that maybe the slipper-socks should come off. she doesn't think about the secret smiles, or the smell of cinnamon, or even the voice saying i love you, you know [because she did know]. she thinks about silence about those moment

2 3

9 Next