#deswrites

Rules: 5 minutes of writing. No outlines, no editing. Just write. Then tag 10 writers to do the same.

I’m a person of hopeless crushes, set with a expiring date just so i know this little damaged heart still beats somehow.

But this heart is so torn, i dont’t think it would survive real love.

And yet, no one has crossed my mind since i met you. I'm so scared of giving my heart to someone ever again, but for you, i might give it a try.

What are kisses like? Are they as messy and wet as they seem How can swapping spit and tangling tongues be so appealing I’d like to swap spit and tangle tongues with you

What do they taste like? Do they taste like promises and declarations left unspoken Like honey and tea Or the coffee they made you after you woke up tangled in eachother’s skin I’d like to tangle my skin with yours

You dream of his kisses

of soft, pink lips with drops of mist

fallen from puffs of honey scented breath that flow from his lungs to yours

breathing life into a heart that hasn’t beat since it was last broken

You dream of bright blue eyes

eyes that hold the light of the world in it’s depths

sapphires in a clever disguise

as deep as the ocean

cool, calm, mysterious eyes that a poet cannot describe

there are no words that embody the beauty those eyes hold

You dream of a warm embrace

of being held in those strong, veiny arms

hours that must have been seconds and you still wanted more

Your fingers haven’t put words on a page in God knows when

Words of love had become strangers to your tongue

and for months your words have been halting, pages torn, lines erased

You should be able to say how he makes you feel

It’s a terrifying thought that the eloquence that you once spun words with

may never come back

But a small voice somewhere deep inside you arises and whispers “hope”

when his lips make your fingers twitch

and words are once again scrawled across a page

tentative, but still there

forming sentences that are broken and remind you of the first thing you ever wrote

but you also remember the last thing you wrote and you realize that

"then"+"now"= progress

It’s been awhile since someone has lit up your mind

and your soul had been dulled

But slowly it’s coming back to life

So you dream

and you write