hiraethbound
hiraethbound
can't say my writing is anything special
but i do know that i like to write!
25 posts
Don't wanna be here? Send us removal request.
Last Seen Blogs
chesmika
Void face
wearesowayward
movement
luwnez
Luwne's Swarm ‧₊°✩₊°🧁⊹♡
theforcekeepers
The King of Games
es-oh-si-que-es
Untitled
Text
old money; in all its decadence.
they lie untouched on their ice cold thrones, made of scorching, fleshy corpses and cover themselves in curtains of pristine white, sweeping bloodied fingers on someone else's hands, as theirs come back clean.
they've never tasted heat, and their smiles are so far away, but it pulls you in like a green light at the end of the dock, and you think you can climb up the bodies of your friends, your kind, and your fixed gaze upon a siren's call of rich dreams under a glass dome pulls you away from their dead eyes.
it lets you go further, like a curse: the higher you crawl, the harder the fall, and all you hear on the way down is that laughter like music, and envy crawls its way - a different kind of green, ugly, like moss - and infects your heart, and your body, with a finality, meets the ground that their feet have never touched.
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
prompt: where your eyes linger
She's gotten used to watching him.
It was almost like second-nature at this point. In a crowded room, in an empty space, in any place at all, the first person she looks for is always the same. It's him, without a doubt.
At this point, it wasn't even conscious, the way she did it. Her eyes would gravitate for familiar, styled-brown hair and a charming smile before she was even aware of it. Then just as soon as those glimmering eyes met hers, she'd feel her traitorous heart lurch in her chest. It was almost painful.
She was lucky that those eyes just somehow, happened to be searching for her too. Not all the time, but enough to make her stay. Enough to make her hope.
"What're you looking at?" He says, with an easy laugh.
She wants to say: You, always you.
Instead, she scoffs, "Your ugly face."
There's something about the way his face scrunches up into laughter, the way his eyes turn into crescents, the gummy smile. It was all too much.
Yet, not enough at all.
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
its not that i didnt love you. its that my hatred for myself far outweighed your love, and it anchored me from ever falling into your arms.
#writing#writers#poem#short poem#books#books & libraries#love#feelings#thoughts#heartbreak#sad#poetry
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
"we'll grow old together, i swear it," you said.
yet, here i sit as remnants of an abandoned promise.
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
one day, you left
and I’m saying goodbye to you,
who has already gone, with
a fragment of my soul
lost in your careless hands.
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
to be a good person,
good things come to good people,
just like karma says. so here I am, trying to be
the best person that I can be, but who am
I fooling? when intrinsically, I have serpents
for heartstrings, a rock for a heart, poison
for blood and acid in my breath. I can never tell
if I was born this way, or if I’ve gutted out
everything about me that I could like; Maybe I’ve clawed
out each beating, bright-red organ and stuffed in
replacements, creatures that bite and mere objects
that can justify the foulness that smears my soul.
Or maybe I was slipped into the world
for light can only shine where it is dark,
for duality is a reality, and I’m the unwanted half.
all these questions are whispered into the void,
and it brings no solace and no peace. I only know that
good things come to good people,
and I’m never going to be enough.
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
love hides in unexpected places,
not meant to be sought,
but rather stumbled upon.
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
oh, you’ve done it now.
you used to keep it so discreet,
avoiding watchful eyes and
saying all the right prayers.
with clasped hands and closed eyes,
you whispered your wishes
to the heavens above.
you did everything right:
legs-crossed, placid smile,
practiced preaches and recitations,
everyone would look at you,
and think that you were so good, so pure.
but one day was enough
to tear it all apart. the universe
tore her away from you,
left you sobbing, begging,
most of all, praying,
and it was then you realised,
for the first time, you've never felt so
unheard.
you did everything right,
so why has it all gone wrong?
they didn't give her back to you,
you had to watch her go six feet under,
and everything you knew fell to pieces -
ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
oh, you've done it now.
you stepped upon the cross,
you ripped away the holy books,
and raised hell from its depths.
you tossed your faith
into raging waters,
and screamed your sins into the world.
they'll look at you,
and shake their heads.
but what the hell do they know?
to you, they all look so dead.
"look at you," they'll say,
"no chance for salvation,
eternal damnation."
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
you want me to describe her? ...well, alright then. so, here's the thing:
When I look at her, I think of the sunset - quiet, peaceful, filled with a sort of sentimentality you can't seem to shake, and it seizes at your heart with an ache that feels alot like longing for someone you can't have.
She moved like the way waves ripple upon the gentle cast of a stone. There was almost something amorphous about her, like as if she’d disappear if you failed to grab on with two hands - the same way a daydream you’d thought up on a long ride home vanished into thin air the minute you reached your stop. She reminded me of sitting alone on a beach, as the sun sinks into the horizon and washes the world in inky black.
It was beautiful and melancholic all at the same time. Looking at her made my fingers flit, clench themselves into fists, burning with the desire to capture and paint.
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
for you, who's more tempting than the devil and who puts the voices of angels to shame:
You opened my eyes to something new, but I'll never tell you that. I wouldn't want the fond glint in your eyes to turn into repulse, or worse, sympathy. I can't say it to you, nor can I to anyone else, so I'll bleed my heart on these empty pages.
Don't get me wrong. This isn't a love letter. I doubt I know what love is. This is a confession, the ramblings of my heart that bears too much to stay silent. Perhaps it sounds like love, but I don't know what love is and I'm not entirely sure it's you.
If love is watching the way you move and thinking there's no one else quite as graceful, if it's also thinking that your stumble remains just as captivating as your pirouettes, if it's quiet contentment at watching you type away on your computer, if it's the way you flash through my mind when a song comes on the radio, if it's talking to you and thinking over and over that this feels like home, if it's helplessly gravitating towards you, if it's wanting to drown in your voice, if it's all that and more, I'l be damned.
But if it isn't, then this is no love letter. This is my heart talking, vulnerably and unabashed, a silent confession about simple feelings. Silent, for once spoken aloud, nothing could ever be the same. So, you'll never read this, much less hear these words from my lips. I'd gladly keep the idea of us hidden in my mind, locked away for late nights and early mornings, if it means I could stay by your side.
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
an episode
“It’s Thursday, isn’t it?”
“No, it’s Friday. You see:
you drifted away on Saturday
so on Sunday, you decided to die,
you realised you were still here on Monday,
and so you cried away your Tuesday,
you cursed the world on Wednesday,
and slept through all of Thursday.
On Friday, you woke up - a stranger."
“I don’t remember that.”
"No one ever does."
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
i hate it when you play your guitar, because you only ever play sad songs.
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
thunderstorm
white, crackles sharp across the sky
like a sweeping slash of claws
right across the heavens.
zeus strikes onto the earth.
rumbling, heart-rattling,
groans from the blue.
unsatisfied, he tries again.
like a whip,
breakneck, a crack that
shakes the ground.
the God smiles at the
temporary darkness
that envelops the world.
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
from one writer to another,
how much of you is in your writing?
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
i wish that my existence could be swept into the night sky, faded and forgotten once the morning comes by. like a fragile flame flitting on a candle, i wish to vanish with nothing but a mere breath, evanesced, unlike a vandal. but instead, i sit in quiet desperation.
other times, i wish i could hold the sun in my heart; i’d sooner burn myself alive than to die without a spark. like a firework that casts its colours against the dark, i want to cry my name from the rooftops and live to leave my mark. but instead, i sit in quiet desperation.
#poetry#poem#writing#writer#writers#books#books & libraries#existence#living#how i feel#been feeling this a lot lately#like i want to disappear but also do something w my life#idk lol
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
tryst.
i've never liked the night, but because of you i do.
the night has become liberating, like taking off a mask after a long day, or perhaps i only feel that way because i'm only ever me when i'm with you. it hurts, sometimes, that i can only see you when the rest of the world sleeps, that i have to fight against siren calls all night lest i start to share the same, quiet breaths with the rest of the world. because then i wouldn't be with you, and our hearts would beat out of sync and everything would feel incomplete.
i've come to think of the night as safe, as a lapse in time, like a loophole of the universe, that lets me share your warmth. i've come to think of the night as you. in the day, we exchange glances and hidden smiles, speaking in languages that we've made our own. but its in the night that my fingers can explore your skin, trace the scars on your back, watch the constellations connect in your eyes, and we can laugh freely and together.
so, every morning i wait.
i wait for the sun to retreat into the horizon to paint the world in shades of black and blue. i wait for streetlamps to come alive to wash the pavements in an orange glow, for front doors to shut with a click, for the jangling of keys to subside as they get thrown under ragged mats.
then, when the universe has stilled, you'll sneak out from the back door. the cold will run up your arms. the wind will whistle and whisper in your ear, weaving itself through your hair and curling itself around your skin. you've never felt so damn alive.
you knock on the door, and i'll let you in, all fumbling hands and hushed laughs. then the universe shuts its eyes, and everything comes to rest, and we'll hold each other until the next sunrise.
i can't believe how much you've made me love the night.
2 notes
·
View notes