Franny Choi, The World Keeps Ending, And The World Goes On

i do write, a lot.

~august.

when i turn off the lights

I'll not run but stand there

so the ghosts can take me

and wipe away my tear

oh how i dare to be that

i should be scared instead

but that's not me

and i will rather choose be dead

when the ghost comes near

i will ask it something

are you real.?

or are you too pretending.?

"i am too heartless", I'll say

but with skin and bones

and you're void darkness

like everyone knows

yet i could feel you shivering

just as frightened as me

you and i are no different

we are tied, even when we're free

~august/fictionflaws

"so where are you if not in my mind"

i will end up disappointing people if i do something for myself and that is fine.

all my midnights are like this, loveless and soulless.

two bodies dying to be in love

together to stay that forever

it is difficult to confess

their eyes can't feel eachother

skin and souls fighting

one wants warmth of intimacy

and there is another

who is drowned in the sea

no one knows better than me

what it is to stay alive in someone

when you have no reason to live

a love will give you a reason to die

lover shall kill you from inside out

eventually they'll be

the person you can't live without

hope you'll not be that cruel for me

for the reason i gave you my heart

be kind to me and all

you have my most delicate part.

~august.

the world, so shallow for some and for remains, a beautiful home.

~august/fictionflaws

One day

One day someone is going to love this When I'm in the kitchen on a Friday night Smiling for the first time in weeks Bare feet dancing to the Mamma Mia soundtrack Doing dishes by hand because The machine broke and I'd rather suffer Than call someone to fix it Singing along until I remember the window is open And my voice is broken

One day someone is going to love this The way I write bedtime stories to myself In which I am the hero or At least someone who is seen So that when I finally dream I feel like I am an actor And not just the screen

One day someone is going to love this The pile of books on my nightstand Post-its marking my favorite pages The covers collect dust from time to time But my refusal to move them is final You never know when you might need them

One day someone is going to love this The bruises all over my legs My mind doesn't always see doors or tables through its daydreams 

One day someone is going to love this They're going to fall for all that I am Not just the parts I put on for show They're going to see everything And then choose to stay

One day someone is going to love this And I won't settle for anything less

Clarice Lispector, tr. by Ronald W. Sousa, The Passion According to G.H.