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Literature
The Only Poem I'll Ever Write About Periods
What To Do When Your Boyfriend’s Asshole Best Friend Says, “Hey, Never Trust Anything That Bleeds For Seven Days And Doesn’t Die,
Right?”
OR The Only Poem I’ll Ever Write About Periods.
Don’t excuse him because he’s had
at least three lite beers
and is sweating through his black button down
that his mom or exgirlfriend
probably bought him.
Don’t excuse him because he’s been turned down
by the last six girls he went on dates with
after meeting them on tinder
with a picture that’s seven years old
Don’t excuse him because
he’s usually such a nice guy
because you don’t want to be a bitch
because you don’t want to cause a scene
because when you were seventeen
your sister told you
no one likes an angry feminist
Tell him,
Hey, Asshole:
Let me explain something to you.
Every goddamn motherfucking month since I was eleven,
a part of me
tore itself to shreds
ripped itself apart inside me
and then remade itself.
S
:iconotherwiseunbroken:otherwiseunbroken
:iconotherwiseunbroken:otherwiseunbroken 20 3
Literature
To The Men Who Loved Smoking + Me Simultaneously
One.
You were the first one who said, Try it. Just see how it feels. And it felt like my insides were burning, like my heart was on fire, like I could feel myself rotting from my very core. And I liked it. I wanted for a long time to claim you broke my heart. Somewhere in a hot July, you’re still claiming I broke yours. Saying, Try it. Just see how it feels.
Two.
He and I on a mission: laughing, drunk, and fingers intertwined. It took an entire summer of midnight runs to the closest convince stores to make him fall for me. It lasted only one night before I left for blonde-haired black eyes and bruises. We stargazed alone, isolated by our twin obsessions: his for cigarettes and mine for him. I did not want for nicotine. I went only for the smell of smoke in my hair when I was trying to fall asleep.
Three.
You were always quitting everything. Of your two habits, I was the easier one to shake.
Four.
His professions of love on the phone at three a.m. were asthmatic and brief as he st
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:iconotherwiseunbroken:otherwiseunbroken 9 2
Literature
Left For Texas
The first one couldn’t be helped.
You were five years old and you’d been married a week before, over by the slide. He kissed your cheek and gave you the black crayon after snack because it was the best one.
His mom tells the class that they’ll be moving in two weeks and you suddenly understand why he crawled under the arts and crafts table yesterday and wouldn’t come out, even when Mrs. Rametta demanded it, even when you offered him the sharp black crayon.
He makes you swear you’ll still be his wife and, together, you find Texas on a map; it’s unfathomably huge, and three states away.
How am I going to still be your wife? you ask.
Simple, he says, come with me.
But he moves with his family and you never once see him again.
You knew the second he put his application in what the answer would be. He worried for weeks but you knew and it created a kind of calmness inside of you that he would later call stagnation. He would call it quicksand.
He tells you
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:iconotherwiseunbroken:otherwiseunbroken 12 10
Literature
Only On Days That End With Y
I love you most on Sunday afternoons, ten minutes after you leave, when I am still trying to carve every word you said into my ribcage, when I’m letting the way you whispered I will love you still run up and down my spine.
I love you most on Mondays around noon, when my coworker asks what I’m smiling about. You were always a secret I kept tucked behind my tongue. You were always a sharp light that shone through my very skin, making me dangerous.
I love you most on Tuesdays at any hour when you’re breaking promises, whether early in the day or two seconds too late. You can’t see me tonight, you will not kiss my collarbones, you will not touch the tiny scrapes on my fingertips and ask where I got them. You won’t, you won’t, and even when I think that maybe you never will again, I know what the ache between my unkissed bones means.
I love you most on Wednesdays when I first wake up, when everything still seems possible. When today could still be the day
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Literature
Lake Michigan
For Courtney
The first thing I fell in love with in that city was Lake Michigan. Crying maybe twenty thousand tears on a plane, crying maybe enough to make a whole new lake, to drown my new city. But even in the rain, Lake Michigan looked serene, like all of this was meant to happen.
Lake Michigan is fathoms deeper than it looks. Lake Michigan is warm and reassuring and when you go to it, it comes to meet you. Lake Michigan has eyes like October storms and she lives down the hall.  
There is something comforting in the uncommon ocean. You never expected to find it here in the middle of nowhere, but your landlocked blues were quickly cured the night she knocked softly on your door and asked if maybe she could come in. You never would have had the guts to do the same but all of the sudden she had flooded into your life and you never want her to leave again, never want to see the low-tide barrenness your own body became.
Riding the train, you catch glimpses of her like flicker
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:iconotherwiseunbroken:otherwiseunbroken 1 1
Literature
Kubrick
Never fall in love with a boy who idolizes Kubrick.
Do I even need to explain to you what’s wrong with a boy who likes A Clockwork Orange? If your favorite musical was Singing in the Rain, be ready to surrender your childhood. Nice white boys committing ultraviolence while he laughs—baby girl, do not fall for his argument that there is a feminist reading of Alex’s “tragic” story. There isn’t. Smack him across the face when he tries to tell you this. When he asks you what you did it for, tell him hey, he’s the one who wanted ultraviolence. This is just a parody. It doesn’t even hurt.
And maybe your favorite book was Lolita. In that case, stay as far away from the film adaptation. Men who love Lolita (the movie) are cannibals. They will tear your story and your tongue from between your teeth and rewrite it, leaving you speechless. He’s the hero now, your boy, and you’re just a footnote. You’re just a little kid with a crus
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:iconotherwiseunbroken:otherwiseunbroken 2 1
Literature
When I Asked And You Said Nothing
[1]
There are words for empty deserts, words like vast and desolate. But I have been to the centers of deserts and have been tempted like shoeless prophets. I was no messiah; I always ate the bitter fruit and kissed the curled lips of demons who could all call me by name. There are words for empty places, words that make bleakness sound like music. But never are they as silent as they seemed.
And you could tie my hands behind my back and you could tie me to the bedposts of the standard issue bed we shared long before we should have. You could knot my hair around your fingers at the height of everything and sigh my name.
But the line was hushed breath and the noise of the room wherever you were and the muted screaming of the ghosts that haunt us every time we speak, every time I see a dark haired boy from too far away, every time you hear that song or see a girl in red shoes.
[2]
There are words for infinite forests, words like solitude and somber. But I have walked reverent through hal
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:iconotherwiseunbroken:otherwiseunbroken 6 7
Literature
One Night Stand-Still
Somewhere between the bar and my bedspread, you fall in love with me, you swear.
We’re sitting with thighs pressed against each other and your three friends are laughing with my three friends and we all seem like we’ve known each other for years. We met two hours ago on a rooftop patio. This is not how love stories start.
We’re running to the gas station, racing through city streets barefoot, trying to make it before they stop selling beer. We’re an hour too late, but we laugh all the way back to my friend’s apartment—you, me, my two best friends, and a city I hate. Fireworks crack in the sky. Teenagers allowed out past their curfews for the holiday whoop and scream. You say you like the way my legs look when I run. I say I’ve heard it all before.
We’re suddenly apart—you got up to tour the apartment or fix your hair in a dirty mirror above a dirtier sink. Something strikes me so I walk quietly to the front door. I lace my boots, ho
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:iconotherwiseunbroken:otherwiseunbroken 4 0
Literature
For Evan, Without Love
Do not let me convince myself I loved you.
You see, I’ve exhausted my guilt complex, raking myself over the coals, trying hard to walk on water for everyone, pretending like I could ever be someone’s salvation. I was never your Messiah; do not let me martyr myself on your altars.
Do not let me rewrite history; do not forget the war crimes with which I was never rightly accused. I spent half a century building fortresses to keep you out of paradise; I was always leaving you without breadcrumbs in the forest. Do not believe me when I tell you this was romance.
And now that it feels like we’re talking in icebergs, loaded question and answer games of which so much is hidden, do not crash into me for deeper meaning. I could sink you, boy, I could crush your sails.
Do not let me sink my stilettos into your chest. Burn the ashes of the bridges I torched with careless cigarettes and late-night calls in which the liquor whispered, “I never loved you.”
Have no faith
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:iconotherwiseunbroken:otherwiseunbroken 9 4
Literature
The Abduction of Hippothe
He was written into my linage for generations before I was born, in blood and saltwater.
He wanted my great-grandmother brought low, so he demanded my grandmother. Drunk on arbor wine, she’d whisper to her granddaughters what it felt like to be lashed naked to the rock, anticipating the leviathan. In the dreams I had, part of her was still chained there.
Her hero couldn’t save all of her.
I wanted badly in my youth to drown. I wanted the teeth of a sea snake. I wanted anything but to be who I was: an ugly and disappointing daughter, not the strong grandson everyone wanted. They would have named him Pericles; he would have been a warrior.
I wanted most of all to be beautiful.
Andromeda was so lovely, she had forced the seas to rise and meet her, had incurred the wrath of jealous gods, had shaken stars from the sky. And who was I, ungainly girl, to claim her bloodline? The Leviathan’s Daughter, they called me. Spawn of the Sea Snake. The fact that I was Andromeda’
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Literature
How To Lose Me Completely
Let me cut my teeth on neglect. Keep me at arms’ length with your arms wrapped around me. You never knew the names of constellations, but you would have bought entire solar systems just to own them. Kill me in paradise, make me slink out on my stomach with the knowledge that I have doomed womankind. Play God.
Make me beg. Keep me on the ropes. Cut one-two punches at my vulnerable ego. Give me a silver medal and make me smile about it. Parade fool’s gold in front of my face and keep her on her knees. Silly girl never saw it coming, but she jumped on the track and the train hit us both once, twice, three times. I licked the electric third rail and shouted, Keep ‘em coming.
Rip my memories from the crushed-up neurons of my haunted brain and call them your own. Give them to someone who has never seen my face. Cut out my tongue and add another bloodstain to the floor. Go home and write about it. Keep me in the room.
Don’t say a word. Retreat to ivory towers, to long-
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Literature
The Ballad of Hypochondria and Insomnia
I’m sorry to be calling so late.
It’s just I think I have bed bugs and an incurable STD and maybe that means I’ll never be able to have your sons, dark haired boys we’d name after our favorite soccer player with your eyes and my religion and both of our terrible teeth. And I have been saving for the braces I know they’ll need and I know that your girlfriend is asleep next to you. Go out to the porch and light a cigarette. It’s fine. I’ll wait.
And I’m so sorry to wake you but it’s just that I think I have cancer and I never should have left you.
Do you think that everyone only gets one soulmate? I know my voice is echoing. It’s just that I’m calling from the floor of my bathroom because of the bed bugs and I just can’t help but think about the night you got in the shower with me and cleaned the vomit out of my hair because I was too drunk to do it myself and maybe that was real love.
And I don’t mean to keep
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:iconotherwiseunbroken:otherwiseunbroken 7 7
Literature
Heat Wave
In the middle of kissing you and a heat wave, I become grateful that you don’t write about me, that you don’t write at all. I am terrified of the horror in my own history, the trail of bodies I have left, the number of teeth I have pulled from your skull, the times you told me you loved me and I looked away, out the window.
How would you put me into words, what will you whisper to the women who come after me, who ask you where you learned to kiss like that? My body is a map of a hometown you’ve never left. My collarbones are a cellar in which you’ve been locked your entire life. You have never seen the sun.
And this is how I write about you: cruelly.
I have written about the times I’ve left you cold and shaking, the times I’ve told you that everything you are was not enough.
I haven’t quite found the words for the way your broad shoulders curve when you pull me towards you, against the solidity of your chest. The words are shelter, solidity, sa
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Literature
Murder in the First, Second, and Third
The first time it happened, she was drunk.
Kissing in his bed, hands locked on his face, how difficult would it be? Phone on the bedside, the password his year of birth and high school jersey number and all she’d have to say was that he was going to spend a few days at her place. His roommates would be disappointed but not surprised. Break your heart, break your heart, that girl’ll break your heart. But none of them would count on this, no one would notice until he didn’t call his father or the unfamiliar smell of human death crept into every reach of the apartment. Keys in his pocket, cutting into her thigh, she could take them and head for the coast. Head for the border, even, and slip away. If she got caught, she’d claim she had no idea what was happening when it happened. If she got caught, she’d smoke cigarettes in prison and cut her hair short. If she got away, she’d never think of him again.
She bit until she tasted blood, and then rolled out
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:iconotherwiseunbroken:otherwiseunbroken 379 81
Literature
Cerca / Proximo
I want you twenty thousand leagues away from me so your fingers can never graze my pericardial effusion ever again. Entire cities should wall me in, away from you. There should be maps made of the miles between us and I should push you off the edge, where there be monsters.
I want you next to me, now, the light lash of rain on my window whispering as your shoulder brushes mine, and neither of us leaps away. I don’t want you apologetic. I don’t want this smile I’ve been pasting on my face for far too long. Collapse with me, like you used to. You whispered Achillean secrets to me, but I never struck your heel until I had to. I want my lance out of your leg. I want to go back.
I want to be six feet under the ground, and I’ve wanted it so badly, since long before we met, and I don’t think you understand just how much.
I wanted to be close to you that night in December. I wanted you to see the dark spaces behind my eyeballs, to feel the sparse patch of hair on
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Literature
I - VIII
Seven.
She gets into the car with the frat boy she used to date. She slams the door while she’s still talking to me. She doesn’t look back.
Four.
On New Year’s Eve, she threatens to give me two black eyes if I kiss her at midnight. She disappears with her best friend into an empty bedroom and they sit on the bed. Passing by the door, I hear her say a boy’s name like a prayer and a curse. I’ve never seen him, but I want to kill him. Her best friend leaves the room when the boy calls, smoking cigarettes on a balcony, leaving his girlfriend inside, his lips cancerous from kissing her.
Three.
Car-crashing into me, she tries to tear my tongue out with her teeth. She pours herself like liquor down my throat. Her tongue at the seam of my lips. Her teeth at my throat. I can taste decay on the roof of her mouth. Later, in the bathtub, she jokes about suicide. She wants it more than she wanted me one hour ago, and in the same way.
Five.
She spends a month not talkin
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Favourites

Journal
Undiscovered Gems--Special Feature
Yes, I've gone and done it again! As if I'm not busy enough with A Call to Conversation and dA Roadtrip articles, I'm bringing you ANOTHER one! With the launch of the "Undiscovered" browsing option, there are a TON of awesome artworks I've been finding and admiring, and I just have to share them with you guys.
I WILL be taking suggestions for this series, as well, so if you discover something while browsing the bowels of dA that you think needs to be shared, please send me ( betwixtthepages ) a note titled Undiscovered Gems.
-----
Undiscovered Gems--Special Feature















Gula by ENZZOK
suicide risk by camelopardalisinblue
My Tears Are Becoming a Sea by CAMartin
:iconbetwixtthepages:betwixtthepages
:iconbetwixtthepages:betwixtthepages 12 17
Literature
we're all drunk and always have been
no
i haven't felt smaller than this before
and it could be
because i don't breathe poetry in
and out -
in
and out,
in
and out -
i write it under my eyebrows
with the precision
of a drunk sniper
toasted into admission
with irony s-st-tutter-ering
down his throat.
you wouldn't take a damned bullet for me.
beautiful is a word kept
for the rise
and fall
of her tidal chest,
not my shallow breath,
not my sunset, heartfelt,
hollow silhouette.
i would have disappeared
between your accusing index and
neglected thumb -
rub me,
rub me?
rub her
rub her
don't you feel calmer?
no
i haven't felt smaller than this
before.
i haven't felt smaller than this before
and it could be
because you found a home between
her stroking index and
comforting thumb -
i haven't forgotten,
no, i still remember
now twenty two penumbrae in the past
didn't stop me
from settling
in one of several crevasses
at the bottom of your oceanic mind;
you may have forgotten,
and slept in
on the details,
but i haven't,
not yet,
not ye
:iconyour-methamphetamine:your-methamphetamine
:iconyour-methamphetamine:your-methamphetamine 118 93
Literature
I want nothing but death
After the three hundred and sixty fifth setting sun since everything became undone, maybe now I have gathered enough pieces of my ether and stationary paper to write you a true goodbye letter.
I would write you starting with the weather today, where the skies are caliginous and the clouds are heavy basins ready to tip over in tears, much like my eyelids. I dig my toes deeply in the damp terra firma as I remember you.
I would write you in snapshot sentences. I would go about how you've converted my vision into a chiaroscuro religion; shifting all light and attention around me to focus in on only you.
I would write you in portrait paragraphs that resemble childhood finger paintings. These portraits pour recollections of the times my fingers traced the light on your face and memorized its every curve and angle, all the while wishing upon your locked, heart-shaped lips for the keys.

        Your cupid's bow flung a flaming arrow
        past my bone,
        snagging at my marrow,
   
:iconSammur-amat:Sammur-amat
:iconsammur-amat:Sammur-amat 36 42
Literature
Andromeda on Cassiopeia
I am an unripe nova
born of a blossom-warm womb
tucked in my mother's bosom-
I was prematurely plucked.
 
Thanks to my mother's harm
I never learned of love-
only of being adored.
Adorned with endless diamonds,
I am worshiped in light-years.
:iconSammur-amat:Sammur-amat
:iconsammur-amat:Sammur-amat 45 70
Literature
unfound
                                                     i am petra, i am the rose city
                                                     half as old as history can behold
                                                     bedouin music serenades the night
                                                     as candlelight burns the dimming
                                                     apparitions of our mortal plight
                                                     i am buena queen of the adriatic
                                                     where my po arms and piave legs
                                                     lead folk to a trance as i dance
                                                     honoring venus as she floods her
                                                     lovedrunk venice in vineyard fools
                                                     i am the khmer prasat angkor wat
                                                     
:iconSammur-amat:Sammur-amat
:iconsammur-amat:Sammur-amat 27 58
Literature
deepened heart
say you'll stay,
you'll sail across
oceans with me,
though you're afraid of the sea,
and i will meet you on the tail of the sunrise.
your hair, spun sugar;
i want to be there when summer
dares to share the secrets of your skin so bare.
your silence sinks the sun,
and my sleeping tongue comes under fire
from an overwhelming numbness
from seaquins and xylitol,
how you wake up everyday and you have it all.
maybe one day i can say that i stand so tall
and maybe then
you will say you'll stay a while,
you will let me sail across the sky with you.
i have a map
that i can't read with all these waves
washing over me
and in the madness of the sea,
the solid sadness of being lonely,
the sound of your name tears the storms
apart; i think i fell in love
with your deepened heart
because even through the storm,
i hear you calling [everybody else's name but mine].
but, like everybody else, you'll fall away,
and i'll never be safe.
see, there's just too much water in my oceans,
not enough blue in the s
:iconVlavisfaults:Vlavisfaults
:iconvlavisfaults:Vlavisfaults 3 4
Journal
Monday Wonders: Episode 3
Hello world. :) I'm sorry this is late, I had to go out early yesterday and then ended up going out with the boys for the most of the day as well. By the time I got home I was absolutely shattered -- too tired to do *anything*!
Welcome to the third edition of Monday Wonders! Please fav and comment so this feature reaches a wider audience and help get these pieces the attention they deserve!
As always, instead of just focusing on literature, I'll be featuring a selection of all kinds of art, based around a theme. I've tried to keep to pieces that aren't necessarily on the front page, so you should find at least one thing that's maybe new to you or often overlooked.
This week's theme is "canines/dogs" in honour of my doggy-day event I'm putting together offline with my support worker's help. :) Since I really like dogs, this probably won't be the last doggy-focused feature you'll see, either. ;)

:thumb296157
:iconcamelopardalisinblue:camelopardalisinblue
:iconcamelopardalisinblue:camelopardalisinblue 3 18
Journal
Daily Literature Deviations for June 24th, 2013
   
Guidelines | How to Suggest a DLD | Group Administrators | Affiliation | Chatroom | Current Staff Openings
Daily Lit Deviations for June 24th, 2013
We are proud to feature today's Daily Literature Deviations!
You can show your support by :+favlove:ing this News Article.

Please comment and :+fav: the features and congratulate the artists!
:pointr: For all of the featured artists: If you receive a DD
:iconDailyLitDeviations:DailyLitDeviations
:icondailylitdeviations:DailyLitDeviations 15 4
Journal
Sundae Treat- Sammur-amat's Sunday Feature #34
PLEASE :+fav: this feature and these wonderful works of art, thank you! :heart:
The amount of artistic talent here on dA has always amazed me, and I truly believe it is a privilege to be able to feature such amazing pieces as these. Therefore, without further ado, this Sunday's Specials! :heart:
LITERATURE
Poetry


:
:thumb358636146:napowrimo by ohsparrowsong
the man at the ticket counter. by momo-madnessSix years ago. by this-epiphany
Finger-Length by imaginative-lioness
Some clear tropisms for your frozen lines by Exnihilo-nihilBelief by swansisters
:thumb355732793::thumb245723067:seabones by brokenfragilethings   
Remnant of a Requiem by brokengod--veins:thumb368115161:femina nova by QuiEstInLiterisThe Best of You by Lady-Yume
Husks of the Past by betwixtthepagesstorms and constellations by lion-essrampant:thumb368591355:
air by ssleepmy own work by antonfrost
Prose
The Girl With The Iron Spine by otherwiseunbrokennamesake by Hfeather53
Newborn by forestmeetwildfireGod's Mortician by Rosary0fSighsThe Rift by lalaith913
:thumb362401485::thumb361661807:Niu eoa Ein by SilverInkblotSome Place in Between by xlntwtch
Late by monstroooothirteen steps to falling in love by AlloenDreams:thu
:iconSammur-amat:Sammur-amat
:iconsammur-amat:Sammur-amat 31 57
Literature
Infirmus
There is a loneliness that can
come to subsistence in man
deeper than the great
submarine sinkhole of Belize;
a crawling phthalo blue sadness
stolen off of a Picasso palette
of familiar numbing pains.
I recall having heard them
as they bid adieu- to me,
another newly extinct species;
some of us are meant for doom
like stellar sea cows, with only
our skeletal frames remaining.
Our squeaks muted all too soon
in the darkness of the shade.
So it goes: life can drag
a few of us blow by blow,
skewing our limbs and broiling
our skins by very heavy venom.
:iconSammur-amat:Sammur-amat
:iconsammur-amat:Sammur-amat 14 38

Activity


deviantID

otherwiseunbroken's Profile Picture
otherwiseunbroken
katherine
Artist | Student | Literature
United States
katydid. but katherine didn't.
Interests

Comments


Add a Comment:
 
:iconsammur-amat:
Sammur-amat Featured By Owner Jan 10, 2015   General Artist
hello there, lovely person! :huggle:
this is to inform you that i have made use of one of the titles of your poetry in my title poem over here: fav.me/d8d65gn :love:
i hope that this is alright with you, pray that you enjoy the read, and thank you for your inspirational artistry! :eager: <3
Reply
:iconrubellerising:
RubelleRising Featured By Owner Jul 26, 2013  Student General Artist
Its my pleasure to watch you. You have very admirable works here :)
Reply
:iconintroverted-ghost:
introverted-ghost Featured By Owner Jul 2, 2013   Writer
Thank you ever so much for the devWATCH! :tighthug:
Reply
:iconsammur-amat:
Sammur-amat Featured By Owner Jun 24, 2013   General Artist
thank you so very kindly for the recent fave(s), lovely creature! :huggle: <3
Reply
:iconsammur-amat:
Sammur-amat Featured By Owner Jun 24, 2013   General Artist
thank you so very kindly for the recent fave(s), lovely creature! :huggle: <3
Reply
:iconotherwiseunbroken:
otherwiseunbroken Featured By Owner Jun 24, 2013  Student Writer
of course, my darling! they were very well deserved.
Reply
:iconsammur-amat:
Sammur-amat Featured By Owner Jun 29, 2013   General Artist
that is so very kind of you to say! :heart:
thanks again! :tighthug:
Reply
:icondareme:
dareme Featured By Owner Jun 24, 2013
You write with your heart. :rose:
Reply
:iconotherwiseunbroken:
otherwiseunbroken Featured By Owner Jun 24, 2013  Student Writer
That is so incredibly sweet. I appreciate your lovely comments so very much.
Reply
:icondareme:
dareme Featured By Owner Jun 25, 2013
I truly mean it. I read a couple of your pieces and each one is so full of emotion: You write like you're living each fragment, and by reading it so am I.

It can be hard to be seen in this world (even in this micro-world that is deviantart), but you are incredible.
Reply
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