This book made me think of Leckie...
One day, I am going to write an angsty, epic AU fic, using the lyrics to I DO NOT LOVE YOU ANYMORE by FLOWERS FROM THE MAN WHO SHOT YOUR COUSIN.
It was all fake
A long and steep mistake
Like a dream from which we wake
With nothing in our plate
And no words while our worlds quake
Why do you come around my door?
I do not love you anymore
And all the rings, the wedding bells
I gave them all to someone else
It was all you
I never had a clue
Until you drifted from my view
Our happy storm is through
What's left rusts it's broke bust and bruised
Why do you leave notes at my door?
I do not love you anymore
The things you said I did so well
I did them all to someone else
And I know grace
I've seen it's ugly face
Hidden in a lonely place
With lonely gauze and lace
The old joy, the old coy embrace
Why do you dress up like a whore?
I cannot see you anymore
And all the lies you said I told
I have none left to ease your load
You know damn well what is in store
I do not love you anymore
I've got something perculating in my head based around the book Odysseus in America: Combat Trauma and the Trials of Homecoming, another book that I read during a long summer in America. I've always found myself obsessed wtih journeys and what it takes to come home. Maybe I need to work that out.
Clearly, I have pjvilar to blame for my sudden urge to write epic AUs.
Or maybe it's teh pile of marking that I'm trying to get through this mornign.
If you're around, say hi ._.
It was all fake
A long and steep mistake
Like a dream from which we wake
With nothing in our plate
And no words while our worlds quake
Why do you come around my door?
I do not love you anymore
And all the rings, the wedding bells
I gave them all to someone else
It was all you
I never had a clue
Until you drifted from my view
Our happy storm is through
What's left rusts it's broke bust and bruised
Why do you leave notes at my door?
I do not love you anymore
The things you said I did so well
I did them all to someone else
And I know grace
I've seen it's ugly face
Hidden in a lonely place
With lonely gauze and lace
The old joy, the old coy embrace
Why do you dress up like a whore?
I cannot see you anymore
And all the lies you said I told
I have none left to ease your load
You know damn well what is in store
I do not love you anymore
I've got something perculating in my head based around the book Odysseus in America: Combat Trauma and the Trials of Homecoming, another book that I read during a long summer in America. I've always found myself obsessed wtih journeys and what it takes to come home. Maybe I need to work that out.
Clearly, I have pjvilar to blame for my sudden urge to write epic AUs.
Or maybe it's teh pile of marking that I'm trying to get through this mornign.
If you're around, say hi ._.