#Ian’s poem to Mickey

[rayrayor]

Congrats @galladrabbles! Thank you for all you do and for bringing us all together each week 💗 Celebrating with a beautiful art prompt by @suzy-queued!

Prompt 2year anniversary

A peek into Ian’s notes and ideas as a married man

2 years

2 years

Of clandestine hook ups

Baseball fields

Innocence

2 years

Being caught

Marriage, Babies

Not ours

Run away

2 years

Freedom

Bar Fights

Bipolar

Break ups

2 years

Bad boyfriends

Break outs

Border

Blatant Voices

Bad decisions

2 years

Behind Bars

Together End Game

Broken bones

Bad dates

But when you know you know

Bridezilla

Becoming Gallavich

Begin our life

Bastards die , we still cry

2 years

Baby

By my side

Best friends

Belonging

In my arms

With our rings

Love no longer a Battlefield

Better or Worse

Banana pancakes

2 years

Happy Anniversary

My blue eyed beloved

Art by @suzy-queued

[ohnopeh]

sometimes i wonder what life would be like if we had never met if we never collided in this lifetime or learned what the curve of each other’s faces felt like who would i be if i had never held your hand who would i be if i had never been loved by you.

Please Love Me at My Worst - Michaela Angemeer

[romidoes]

the orange (boy).

[..] that orange, it made me so happy, this is peace and contentment. It's new. the rest of the day was quite easy. i did all the jobs on my list and enjoyed them and had some time over. I love you. I'm glad I exist.

(insp.)

[mickittotheman]

Tyler Knott Gregson. Wildly into the Dark: Typewriter Poems and the Rattlings of a Curious Mind

[jademickian]

— Drinks of The Southside, jademickian

[m4ndysk4nkovich]

where does the temple begin, where does it end? (mary oliver) // gallavich

[sluttygallavich]

Galladrabbles: in this space

This week's @galladrabbles is based on the poem prompt by @ardent-fox:

In this space right here that we have made for each other, you can say anything and I will not abandon you. Unwrap the worst things you have done. Watch me hold them up to the light and not even flinch. — Trista Mateer

_________________________

Finally, we have time. What we don’t have is space. Just four cement walls measuring six by eight.

At first I sleep better than I have in years, but now long after you’ve drifted off the guilt eats at me. I listen to your steady breaths and watch the walls closing in.

You’re trapped in here with all the worst things I’ve ever done, unable to abandon me now, even if you wanted to.

I watch for the moment you wake, waiting for the flinch as you remember where you are, what you’ve given up, but somehow it never comes.

[ohkate]

My blood suddenly knows you're gone.

[lingy910y]

Galladrabbles

another poem! hehe i love codependent husbands..........thanks @heymacy for the prompt, bones, and @galladrabbles

When he lays his head on Mickey's chest next to their hearth and engulfed in scent he is at peace. the strokes of his name plant deep roots and tucked behind safely is his heartbeat.

bump! bump! bump!

he is not simply freed from fear it still comes in crashing waves but someone now holds him at the peak with unconditional devotion.

he is not as scared of death and will welcome it if he lies with his other half as they're covered in the most primitive sense of the Earth he is content.

Ian feels it in his bones.

[secret-gallavich]

thank you @ardent-fox for this weeks @galladrabbles !

prompt: a poem by Trista Mateer

-

he can exist in a world where nobody knew they were together.

it's safe and special, nothing can hurt them in this place.

but he can see the other grow restless, grew too big for their little space.

and suddenly it's not enough.

he can stay in this place but he'd be alone

it would be lonely and empty, without him here.

so he takes a step outside this world and into a bigger one.

and it's scary and painful like he expected it to be.

but ian is smiling at him in this place so he might just stay.

[marstheterrible]

[teethsteakinc]

Another Gallavich poem based on Ian leaving in s3/e12 from Mickey's pov. Ian’s actually my favorite despite writing about Mickey more.

-x-

Will we ever meet again?

You killed me.

Crumpled photos pale in comparison to the real deal. A tangible version of you, a you I could hold only a few days ago. I don’t understand your optimism, or your desire to enlist and relinquish all your control.

But I understand the desire to get out and the desperation that follows. Limited options, not much for a gay teen to do in the South side, you don’t think you have the brains to do anything more; you think you’re limited to what your body can buy.

But I’ve heard you shape your sentences, and even when rambling you have a way with words; soft but certain. You don’t see the you that I see.

You don’t know the way I looked forward to every meeting, a truth I kept hidden. Hiding behind the cold harshness of my words, a sharp contrast to yours.

You don’t know the way my world ended when you came to visit me that morning, a day I’d come to regret. One-word admissions weren’t enough.

You deserved so much better than me. A truth I knew well. I’d never let myself forget, intimately acquainted with the reality, it was bound to end.

-x-

[gallawitchxx]

🔮💨 crystal ball weed bong mickey 🔮💨

part 14 for @galladrabbles & @shinygalaxyperson's prompt: end of the world

master post (updates weekly!) | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12 | part 13

✺ | ✺ | ✺ | ✺ | ✺

There’s an old poem about hollow men. Stuffed men. Men without sight; shape without form. Line after line of war and faith and shadows. Mickey’s not sure why he knows it. Doesn’t fully understand how it’s come to live in his brain and his bones. But here it is now:

This is the way the world ends.

Gallagher turns, his gaze a challenge. “Don’t what?”

This is the way the world ends.

“Just…”

This is the way the world ends.

Mickey’s breath catches in his throat.

Not with a bang but a whimper.

Gallagher’s lips twitch, but he stays put.

[golden28s]

coming soon to your nearest ao3 💗

[jademickian]

this poem was inspired by this noel fisher interview, in which he states,

“ian has always been that... angel for a long time for mickey... and mickey is going to have to turn into a protective angel for ian.”

[redwiccanrobin]

Loving Mickey

To explain how he loves Mickey so?

To do so is telling the blind of the color blue.

But he will set forth, try with all the marrow in his bones.

Loving Mickey is like the sun peaking through as it rains.

To love him is to set sail across the winding and salted sea.

Mickey?

He is simply every little thing that causes the earth to spin.

He is the warmth needed during the harshest of winter days.

He is the comfort that is craved when there’s a growing ache.

Loving Mickey is a virtue that any man should be lucky to carry.

To love him is to be free, free as the birds we hear sing.