Sometimes I write things. Sometimes I write them in other places and like them so I put them here. Other times I write things here just because. those times the writing is less good.


I can and do write happy things. Just not here. Actually I write sickeningly cute stuff. It's awful :3

 

you

Posted by bronwen wild on Tuesday, November 11, 2014
have i told you that your voice makes my heart skip
that every word has me in a fever pitch
you sneak into my brain and take over my veins
you are my first beautiful obsession

like clockwork i can promise you are always on my mind
thick thoughts, heavy hearts, not enough time
im a fool in love but im not fool enough
or maybe too much to hope that you will stay

miles taste like hours and hours feel like barriers
an endless tide of distance covered in internet
lay waste to forgetfulness and ton...
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A thought on life

Posted by bronwen wild on Sunday, September 21, 2014
I would like to sit and question my own existentialism
am i myself the limit of my own stars
could i in fact paint with these tired fingertips
if only i had the paint in my mind
would it change a fate to believe there is no such thing as failure
would my back not break under bricks so heavy
if i tell myself they are imaginary
maybe these endless trials will be left to more savory tastes
if i were to act like life were sweet
who could say if this mortal coil is only filled with endless toil
du...
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I wrote a love poem

Posted by bronwen wild on Thursday, September 18, 2014
the night was all they ever had. long days filled with long hours and endless minutes all dragging slowly on until they finally meet their evening reprieve. Too late for big words or big places or slow actions. Everything was haste as light crept up their backs and into their eyelashes stealing last kisses and last goodbyes for the next time like a tide that came in too fast. their love the sand castle not yet done and the child who weeps bitter tears, their mother promising them they can bui...
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Of stardust and love and everything inbetween

Posted by bronwen wild on Thursday, September 4, 2014
If we are all made of stardust,
Are we two parts of one star?
Born to this world in flame and starlight?
What if these old bones
That hold me closer to you
Were once infinite and endless,
Mere specks of dust floating in the universe
Until they met you?
What if the spark in your eyes
Is the flame of a million skylines
From past worlds and past stars
That you've been a part of?
What if this red string of fate
Is a burning supernova
Bursting at the core of our existence?
What if after all this time
We w...
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For Eunb ~

Posted by bronwen wild on Thursday, September 4, 2014
Rest safely oh weary traveler
Lay your head on my bed of flowers
Rest your feet in my meadow of warm grass.
I will be your comfort and you savior
I will hold you so this too will pass.
Do not fear this falling rain
This heavy lamp light
And the gravity that spins around us.
You are safe in my most kingly of arms,
Nothing on earth could destroy this sanctuary
Or cause you bodily harm.
Do not fear sweet angel this depleting road
We're just taking a different route.
Put your hands in mine and hold on so...
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I like this one. It seems it is still true that the more mentally unstable I am the more I like my writing.

Posted by bronwen wild on Monday, September 23, 2013
"Dont leave me" She said
"I can't take it" she said.
"Help me" She said.
"I'm fine" she said.
"Save me" she said.
"Don't worry about me" she said.
"Foret about me" she said.
"I'm scared" she said.
"I'm sorry" she said.
"Goodbye" she wrote.

Cries go unanswered.
Whispers are ingored.
Pleas are forgotten
Because actions speak louder than words.

Red runs deep like blossems
Metal tastes like broken dreams
when all you touch is empty
and every silence screams

Hold me close in weary arms
say prayers and tal...
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two small drabbles ooff the tooop of my head

Posted by bronwen wild on Sunday, August 25, 2013
Blood
Its soothing really. when she thinks about it.
Running down her arms in a uniform red line
coating her fingers and staining her pale skin
and oh how it washes away
leaving vapor trails in her mind of the way the red seems to invade everything
Sometimes she thinks its the only part of her truly alive
its the only part that can make an impact anyway
no one will notice the stain of memories
or the clash of waisted breath on tired cries
but the raw red rush of 2 am fuck ups
is harder to ign...
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Right well okay.... i stared writing and this happened.

Posted by bronwen wild on Tuesday, July 10, 2012
"dont!" she yelled helplessly.
"I have no choice. You now I don't."
"there's always a choice. don't give me this shit. theres Always a fucking choice Drew. sure one is harder, but theres always a choice." she sighed a long, heavy sigh. filled with only the angst a teenage girl knows.
"Then what would you have me do Tam? What the fuck am I supposed to do?"
" i dont know. and to be honest im starting to not care, or not want to care. i dont know okay. run away, dont run away, kill yourself, dont ...
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I wrote a song.

Posted by bronwen wild on Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Okay so im fucking miserable and dont know why
but I wrote this song
and Im kinda proud of it
it may sound a bit odd since well one, its based on TFIOS (big shock there ahaha) And two well I actually wrote the piano first and then thought of the words
Which is why it works better i think
well I like it better than anything else i've written
Still utter shite
but ya know

Okay

Hazel Grace
it would have been my
privilege to be
heart broken by you

Our little infinity together
wont last forever
so read t...
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I love how my wirting is best when its really fucking morbid

Posted by bronwen wild on Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Drip
Rip
Slash
Ache
Searing
Burning
Red.

Cold. she looked up. she knew where she was. But wished she wasn't. Her arm ached. Now that she thought about it her hole body ached.
Her hands felt stiff. Like there was something stuck to them. And of course. There was.
Half awake, her head spinning she noticed first her legs. The blood had dried by now smeared all down her left thy and calf. And there among the thirty or so new deep cuts to her leg lay the words that so often filled her mind.
"No one would ...
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