afellowdeadpoet

[afellowdeadpoet]

helpp...

would you read a book about a group of teenagers all in the most famous city in the entire world, including:

-two royal brothers who rule the city side by side

-a poison tester who knows the kingdom better than anybody

-two infiltrators intent on pulling a heist

-three visiting royal siblings who have come with secrets aplenty

the only problem is: everything about them that you know, is a lie

nothing is as it seems, betrayals are afoot and so are alliances. 

someones plotting to bring the kingdom to it’s knees. the only question is: who?

[afellowdeadpoet]

i want the fairytale….

[afellowdeadpoet]

“It’s raining let’s go outside” “look out the window, the moon is beautiful” “I finally read the books you’ve been talking so much about, I loved it” “wait stand there , the lighting is amazing” “<3” “I bought you this book, I think you might like it” “oh my, look at all the stars” “let’s go to a bookstore” “I got us some coffee” “here, listen to this” “let’s make a playlist” “this is a horrible idea. I’m in”

[afellowdeadpoet]

i’m tired of begging for ur friendship, banging on your door like a desperate outcast. i deserve more than your spare bit of change and leftovers

i deserve more than your minimum.

[afellowdeadpoet]

drink your coffee. read your books. it's chaos out there.

[afellowdeadpoet]

I'm definitely a romantic, I don't think life is really worth all the pain and effort and struggling if you don't have somebody that you love very much.

- Chet Baker

[afellowdeadpoet]

I have spent so much of my life bottling up every thought, emotion, opinion, and just me, that I’m honestly so ready to spill out everything to someone. Read my poetry. Read my goddamn journal. Just someone understand me finally, please

[afellowdeadpoet]

remember 

I’m not sure how

To remember you

With clenched fists

Or a butterfly tattoo

What should I recall?

How your from Tenesse?

And how hard you

Tried to love me?

Do I remember the

Romance books you read

Or the doubts, fear,

Nausea and dread

When I think of you

Do I remember your band?

Or should I remember

How you lifted your hand?

Am I supposed to

Remember your laugh

Or the dark bruise

On my calf?

On the days where

You are all I see

Should I remember

The flowers or the debris

Should I see light,

And how you tried your hardest

Or how it never was enough

And it ended in darkness

So when I’m drunk and alone

And nowhere near you

Should I remember the monster?

Or the man I thought I knew?

[afellowdeadpoet]

writing should be fun.

make oc playlists. spend hours on moodboards that have no purpose. write self-indulgent fluff that’s never going to be published. scribble three lines of poetry in the back of your history notebook. draw fanart of your own characters. write stupid dialogue that your publishers might hate. start new wips that you might never finish but write those three chapters that make you happy because if you don’t write them, who else will?

writing shouldn’t always be about “will publishers like this” or “i have to reach this word count” or “how do i get the most likes”.

have fun with your writing.

[afellowdeadpoet]

drowning

I saw you last week

At the grocery store

We used to shop together

I guess not anymore

You looked at me,

And began to laugh

And it felt like that sound

Would cut me in half

When I looked at you

All I saw was blood

Like all those all old scars

Opened in a flood

I remember it all

Even when I tried to forget

I can still recall

Every single regret

You were afraid of heights,

You painted and you drew,

You always wore a watch

And your eyes were ocean blue

I still see beach waves

Everytime I blink,

Picture that godamn color

Till I can’t even think

So when you looked

And laughed at me,

All I remembered is

Drowning in that sea

And I hate that you’re still there,

Still haunting my dreams,

I hate that I gave you the power

To rip me apart at the seams

So I stood there

In the middle the aisle

Fighting to swim

And choking back bile

You looked happy

Like you’d never been better

And here I was,

Wearing your old sweater

And I’ll never forgive you

For stealing my breath

But thank god you dropped me

Before I choked to death

Because you thought

You were damning me

By cutting the rope

By setting me free

See if you look past

The rust and chains

You’ll see a girl with

Vengence in her viens

Sot darling, think again,

Make no mistake

You unleashed a monster

Who won’t rest till you break

[afellowdeadpoet]

i saw you at the supermarket last week. its weird to think that two souls who collided so hard and so fast could walk past each other like strangers only months later. yet- there you were, picking up frozen lasagne, barely glancing at me. 

i always thought you hated lasagne, or maybe you just hated eating it with me.

[afellowdeadpoet]

I once asked my father how he survived so long in this world and he told me that if you want to make it past twenty without any sort of crutch you have to act like you constantly have a target on your back and every single person, even those you love, carry knives of varying sizes.

I told him that that was a terrible way to live.

And he said, ‘You didn’t ask me how I lived, darling, you asked how I survived.’

[afellowdeadpoet]

‘I think in order to feel that I’m good enough for you, I have to let go of you first. But the question is, how do I drop you without loosing me?’

[afellowdeadpoet]

'I’ll save you with whatever is in me, and I’ll save myself with whatever is left.’

[afellowdeadpoet]

a swiftie whose obsessed with dark academia, harry styles, poetry, extremely depressing quotes, all things marauders, the dead poet society and london in general, its also worth adding that i have an insurmountable big book phobia

[afellowdeadpoet]

'It makes me a terrible person but I want to know that I’ve made an impact on you. I want to know that I’m woven into the very fabric of your being. I want to have to the safety net of knowing that you would break without me.'

[afellowdeadpoet]

i’m calling it- the best part about being a writer is you can seek revenge against the bitchy souls of the earth by using their name for your worst character

like maybe you wanna think twice before laughing at my basic ass playlist again, janet. else i might just immortalise u in gruesome ink