charmolypi literary review: we’d love it if you could submit to us :))
I founded a literary review earlier with a few of Prose’s most talented (y’all are amazing @Moonsinger128, @friendly_cynic, @chainedinshadow) as editors, and we would love it if you could submit to us!
We have no themes or word count restrictions - feel free to write about whatever you’re passionate about! Although our main focus is children, writers of any age can submit.
and we weave flowers like precious secrets into
crowns of our destiny, fit for a king and a queen
(or a queen and a queen), and let their nectar
dribble down our chins, painting our fate with sugar
coated sweetness (and i brush her lips with
mine to wipe the dew drops when they kiss our
hearts with false promise)
in a family of hyacinths stained pure white like
halos around our heads, a pair of cerulean roses
blooms (bold in newfound diversity), born from
the roots of her garden (the garden that i had gifted
her on our third anniversary) and flourished much
stronger than its petaled persona
unbecoming at first glance (like the stamen weaving
our hands and fates as one), these shades of the
ocean are, popping out of the ordinary, yet their
boldness sprinkle beauty and elegance about our
and while not ordinary, these shades are no longer
unordinary, but extraordinary
(if only the same could be said about us)
wow i posted something decent without a one month hiatus. go me.
the stars in the sky don’t wait for me; this innocence
curls around caramel arms like vines and curses to
forever stretch stretch stretch into hues of cerulean and
lilac, desperate to brush celestial constellations with
fingertips tingling of anxiety and stolen hope, only to have
its stardust seep through fingers like molten gold and
broken dreams / the stars in the sky don’t let me quit; this
innocence finds them next in midnight eyes, laced with
mascara from the inky skies, with stars that shimmer
like galaxies through the shadows curling around
in a cold embrace, and for once, the stardust seeping
through fingers comfort the caramel / the stars in
the sky like to taunt me; this innocence doesn’t know that
all stars soon burn out, and caramel curls around burnt oak,
desperate for midnight to appear just once, fingertips
tingling with hope of one small speck of stardust, but /
the stars in the sky don’t answer my prayers;
It’s about time they let me grace the Earth again. The world was needing a little more pizazz, and lucky for them, I’ve got it.
But unfortunately for planet Earth, my time here is only a mere hour. 60 minutes. 3600 seconds. And while the world is in desperate need of entertainment, I cannot waste my precious time here for them because after this one hour, it’s back to heaven for me.
People say I’m pessimistic and ungrateful that way, that I don’t value my time on Earth and that’s why it ended so quickly. (Pro tip: We heaven-ees can still hear what you say about us. You may want to hold your tongue, Mrs. Channing.) There was one person who never said that though, who accepted me for who I am and loved me. And as her name tattooed on my pale skin catches my eyes, I know what I’m supposed to do in this one hour.
Perhaps it should be a problem walking on public sidewalks like a normal human being after being pronounced dead six months ago, but nothing has changed since then. People never noticed me then, and people don’t notice me now. As I drag my leather boots against the pavement to bring attention myself, I’m met with turned backs and distracted eyes. And perhaps it’s better this way.
It’s good nothing had changed since then. She’s still as gorgeous as ever, with ebony hair waiting for me to curl with my finger and rosy lips begging to slap mine against. She makes me want to stand there forever, to bask in the light radiating from her mere presence, but I stop myself. For I only have a half hour until I return to heaven, and I need her for much longer than that.
She’s sitting on her bed, reading “The Tale of Desperaux”. It’s her favorite book, despite its intended audience being fifteen years younger than her. I like that about her, how she’s unashamed of her childishness. It’s part of why I need her. I think now’s the best time, though, so I take out what’s hiding in my back pocket.
The sunlight reflects silver onto the dusty pages of her book, and before she can look up to see why, a knife plunges into her stomach. Crimson pours out, smearing the words and staining her bedsheets, and she stares at me in horror, wondering if it’s her imagination I’ve returned.
But it’s not.
She begs me to take out the knife and take her to a hospital, to get her treated so she can stay on the land of the living.
But I don’t.
For I only have a few minutes until I return to heaven, and now, she can join me.
And forever we will be together.
I painted my future black and white.
I'd pass high school and graduate at a nearby community college. I'd marry whoever my family chooses for me. Not a fancy wedding, but a quick exchanging of the rings in front of my house with only close family watching. I'd spend the rest of my life in the hilltops of my hometown with my spouse and both of our families. It was a simple life. A simple life for a simple girl.
And my black and white fantasy had become reality. We opened a small floral shop, my spouse and I. We passed the day there, I handing out flowers and my spouse trying to ignore their allergies. We passed the night in our house of twenty, playing games and having movie nights. It was a simple life. A simple life for a simple girl, and nothing could be better.
Or at least, that's what I thought. Soon, my black and white life was asking for more. Wake up, open the shop, run the shop, close the shop, go home, have some family time, sleep. This daily routine was starting to become a cycle, a never-ending chore. And I was getting tired of it.
That is, until you came along. It was a rainy night when you opened that door and took a step inside. You looked at us, huddled around Monopoly, and clicked your tongue. With a flick of your finger, you gave me what I was missing. Color. You splattered every inch of my life with color.
let the countless stars twinkling in your eyes light my way through the night
and each heart you crush
like a frail rose
i’ll collect their petals
i’ll string them together
into dauntless roses
and you’ll be their thorns
not everyone can have
* * * * * *
they say to count your blessings
but there are too many to count
im slipping into a pit of insanity
please hold on to me tight
so i can pull you down with me