(no subject)
Title: We Are Cliché
Author: war_of_ataraxis/love_sex_angst/fatesmisfit
Rating: PG-13 - R… depends on how you feel.
Pairing: Open… could be any. Wrote thinking of Pierre/David or Ville/Bam
Summary: Could you please be a little less cliché? These words you speak tear my heart to pieces, you said, and I only blinked before laughing.
Very short; reviews and thoughts are appreciated.
Writing archive at love_sex_angst
Could you please be a little less cliché? These words you speak tear my heart to pieces, you said, and I only blinked before laughing.
How could my words tear your heart to pieces; they are not razorblades and your heart is already cold and hard, blackened from my supposedly enforced pain, so please explain yourself.
I can see a single tear streak down your cheek; how tasteless, only one? Oh, how you do sway me; how you do break my own blackened heart.
Hands on hips, I shake my head and realize this is pointless, my thoughts are fruitless, and you are worthless; we’re worthless together, more would say, but somehow I can only focus on you, and in none of the best ways.
I can feel your breath, almost, from the opposite side of the room, I can feel the room fill up with pain and humidity of our hearts beating and warming our skin, evaporating our tears in this hatred heated room.
Please, please do be a little more cliché.
I can feel you now, and you step closer, and look into my eyes, proclaiming that there is still love in my eyes; my eyes that have been blank from the start, I have thought about committing you, you are seeing things, surely, that are not there.
I can’t help but sneer.
I, I, I, so many thoughts of I. Maybe it’s my fault; surely not. I could see want lingering in your eyes; too bad it was only for the want to spit harsh words in my face, and finally let me know what you’ve always thought.
Tell me.
Tell me now.
Let it all out; for once be a fucking man.
You are now closer, as impossible as it seemed before, so close our sweat has joined, and our chests bump together as we breathe; and suddenly we’re a tangle of arms and legs, a grudge and an angry, violent, passionate and sexual solution; I can not ever claim that we are normal to the rest of the world, but to use, this is who we are.
This relationship is not complete without the bruises on our lips, the lacerations on our hips, from gripping so hard we knew we were hurting; self-injury inflicted upon another, a circular motion, I hurt you, you hurt me, I feel the pain without actual self-injury.
Please, let me be a little more cliché.
Words unitalicized; no bold print needed to showcase this; we do not wish to showcase, we break glass and hearts are torn with the shards; showcases are dangerous to lovers who fling such harsh words and limbs so freely as desire runs.
Run on sentences are the only available spaces large enough to advertise this love, I hope the English teachers faint from fright; too bad they’ll miss the best part; the kiss, the bite, the nibble, the lick, the fuck, the fingers; the taste of the air when sex escapes and turns wild.
What words could be more useless. We cannot be contained; we hate, and are hated, we have grudges, and cheat; we are not ourselves, we are each other, we are us, attempting to stand on our own, but only manage to end up bent over in a drunken stupor, fingernails drawing blood from our life giving veins.
We are cliché.
* *
A/N; Please let me know what you thought, if anybody actually read this, I know most people don’t read things like this, but I actually rather like it… so, let me know what you think, even if it’s a simple “Good” or “bad.”
Thanks =)
Author: war_of_ataraxis/love_sex_angst/fatesmisfit
Rating: PG-13 - R… depends on how you feel.
Pairing: Open… could be any. Wrote thinking of Pierre/David or Ville/Bam
Summary: Could you please be a little less cliché? These words you speak tear my heart to pieces, you said, and I only blinked before laughing.
Very short; reviews and thoughts are appreciated.
Writing archive at love_sex_angst
Could you please be a little less cliché? These words you speak tear my heart to pieces, you said, and I only blinked before laughing.
How could my words tear your heart to pieces; they are not razorblades and your heart is already cold and hard, blackened from my supposedly enforced pain, so please explain yourself.
I can see a single tear streak down your cheek; how tasteless, only one? Oh, how you do sway me; how you do break my own blackened heart.
Hands on hips, I shake my head and realize this is pointless, my thoughts are fruitless, and you are worthless; we’re worthless together, more would say, but somehow I can only focus on you, and in none of the best ways.
I can feel your breath, almost, from the opposite side of the room, I can feel the room fill up with pain and humidity of our hearts beating and warming our skin, evaporating our tears in this hatred heated room.
Please, please do be a little more cliché.
I can feel you now, and you step closer, and look into my eyes, proclaiming that there is still love in my eyes; my eyes that have been blank from the start, I have thought about committing you, you are seeing things, surely, that are not there.
I can’t help but sneer.
I, I, I, so many thoughts of I. Maybe it’s my fault; surely not. I could see want lingering in your eyes; too bad it was only for the want to spit harsh words in my face, and finally let me know what you’ve always thought.
Tell me.
Tell me now.
Let it all out; for once be a fucking man.
You are now closer, as impossible as it seemed before, so close our sweat has joined, and our chests bump together as we breathe; and suddenly we’re a tangle of arms and legs, a grudge and an angry, violent, passionate and sexual solution; I can not ever claim that we are normal to the rest of the world, but to use, this is who we are.
This relationship is not complete without the bruises on our lips, the lacerations on our hips, from gripping so hard we knew we were hurting; self-injury inflicted upon another, a circular motion, I hurt you, you hurt me, I feel the pain without actual self-injury.
Please, let me be a little more cliché.
Words unitalicized; no bold print needed to showcase this; we do not wish to showcase, we break glass and hearts are torn with the shards; showcases are dangerous to lovers who fling such harsh words and limbs so freely as desire runs.
Run on sentences are the only available spaces large enough to advertise this love, I hope the English teachers faint from fright; too bad they’ll miss the best part; the kiss, the bite, the nibble, the lick, the fuck, the fingers; the taste of the air when sex escapes and turns wild.
What words could be more useless. We cannot be contained; we hate, and are hated, we have grudges, and cheat; we are not ourselves, we are each other, we are us, attempting to stand on our own, but only manage to end up bent over in a drunken stupor, fingernails drawing blood from our life giving veins.
We are cliché.
* *
A/N; Please let me know what you thought, if anybody actually read this, I know most people don’t read things like this, but I actually rather like it… so, let me know what you think, even if it’s a simple “Good” or “bad.”
Thanks =)