#ari.writes

leftover light — Declan Lynch/Adam Parrish | E | 1.7 k |

"Okay," Adam smiled, a rare, crooked thing. "What do you want to do to me tonight?" His hand moved leisurely from Declan's waist upward, a single finger tracing the line of his buttons, and Declan's stomach tightened with anticipation. But when he leaned in to kiss Adam, his palm quickly came flat against his chest to stop him. "No. Come on, just say something." Adam's hand continued up, past his collar, and then rested it on the side of his neck, fingers closing lightly around it. "Anything. Declan."

We were no good for each other, Never were in the first place.

So why, when I feel like the pressure of loneliness is suffocating me, do I want to call you?

I find it hard to believe you ever really loved me, how could you, when I can’t even love myself?

But maybe you really did love me, and I was too involved in my self hatred to see it.

You were right to want to leave me;

Sometimes I want to leave me too.

[ my main is @honeyzhong if you’re ever wondering ]

christopher velez

weekends // racer jock!chris ; one

richard camacho

one and only // baseball jock!richard ; one. two.

zabdiel de jesus

epic // basketball jock!zabdiel ; one

runaway // badboy!zabdiel ; here

joel pimentel

fancy // jock!joel ; one. two.

erick brian colon

no take backs // soccer jock!erick; one

[ i am no longer an active cnco writer ]

but it’s broken,

he’s broken,

and he knows she can see it.

it’s why he begs her for help in the only way he knows how:

You made me love the stars

You taught me what being loved really meant

Seeing your tears ripped me apart.

I never meant to do you any harm. When i said i didn’t love you any more, i never meant it. I only said it to give you a chance at someone better

These scars aren’t from a reckless childhood. I didn’t own roses. Sticker-burs don’t leave scars shaped like crescent moons on your ankles. 

I’m sorry I never saw you before you died

I’m sorry I lied. You knew why I was asking you to show me how to use your gun. You’re right. I wanted to disappear.

I’m sorry. Sorry about having my brain ripped to shreds by a disorder called anxiety, where my attacks cause backlash, and that backlash just lashed out at you. I’m sorry that the last words I ever said to you were “just leave me the fuck alone”

I write poetry because of you. I read it, and listen to it, and even compile it, just so that one day I may have a book dedicated to you. But for right now, all I have is a picture and a half done rough draft