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Deviant for 9 Years
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Literature
reminders for my eighteen-year-old self
1. You are a tangle of past lives and defense mechanisms. Breathe.
2. When your grandfather says you have lightning in your hair and in your heart, those are not words of condemnation – they are a quiet battle cry for the warrior to be. He will forget these things in time, but you will not.
3. Every time a man comes close enough to touch you, you will question what it means to love and be loved by a lover and what it means to be a mother, because what you’ve seen could never serve as an adequate cookie cutter. Growing up and growing out from your soiled roots will not be easy, but listen to the words of God when He tells you, “Daughter, let the sun take its time to shine.” Acid rain will come your way, and with a naïve heart you will drink your fill, but we are so much stronger than the mistakes we’ve made.
4. You have been a politician, a mathematician since the day you were born, manipulating and calculating equations and conversations, like how to
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Literature
new.
our sour self-made gospel
has left us to scrape our worth
from the spaces between our bones.
and maybe i
know more than most
of how the mind
can become so muddied
by makeshift metaphors
and senseless semicolons,
lowercase love
and worthless words.
but i
have chosen a champion
over second chances,
triumph over trial,
selfless psalms
over selfish songs,
and He
has made
me
new.
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:icontheresambraun:theresambraun 12 7
Literature
a letter to my future love.
i shouldn't apologize,
but i'm sorry
that i taste so much
of sandpaper and saltwater.
most of my kisses
up to this point
have been tied up and weighed down
by pale promises and outdated alcohol.
i've spent months
stuffing mirrors into my stomach
to see who i am
beneath my skin
and become a reflection
of her
instead of him.
i am moving on
and my love for him is gone,
but there are days that i awaken
shaken
by processions of nightmares,
and under my breath i swear
they're there
because he doesn't whisper
"sweet dreams" in my ear
anymore.
i'm not asking you to fix me.
i'm just asking you
to maybe
hold my hands steady
as i sew up these searing wounds
and i paint the sunset onto my skin
and i find myself beautiful again
and i have the strength to give again.
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:icontheresambraun:theresambraun 13 11
enchanted. :icontheresambraun:theresambraun 7 3
Literature
on loving a hated man.
i worked so hard
to convince the world
that you are a human being
who deserves nothing less
than love
that i so easily forgot
that i am, too.
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:icontheresambraun:theresambraun 11 5
Literature
storm.
when the storm
comes thundering in,
the wind
scraping its claws
over your skin,
howling the payment
for your mortal sins,
i hope the lightning misses
every time a bolt flashes
because you deserve to see
that nobody but me
can start a fire that burns you to ashes.
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:icontheresambraun:theresambraun 6 10
Literature
regret.
there is a certain time of night
that every song on the static radio
makes me cry,
and i want to break my skin
and pull you back in again.
and it is then
and only then
that the loveliest memories
strangle my lungs,
and i remember
sobbing into your pillow at 3am
because i felt so alone,
and you turned out the lights
and held me close
and hummed
“you
are
my
sun-
shine”
until i could breathe again.
and i swear i would be fine
if that night could be tonight.
but no,
here i am,
alone and alive,
and i don’t have a place
in your head or in your bed,
so let me share with you instead
these lessons i've learned in regret.
one:
               i know now
               you only touched me
               how you were programmed to touch.
               i was just another machine
           
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:icontheresambraun:theresambraun 19 10
Literature
cigarettes and sinking ships.
I’m on a sinking ship, she says.
There are oceans of opportunity out there, they say.
But I never learned to swim, she says. And I’m already drowning.
She sits cross-legged in the overgrown grass, smoothing her black sundress over her thighs (over and over again) and flicking the ashes off the end of her cigarette (over and over again). They watch her through sideways glances.
I don’t smoke, she reassures them, exhaling one last time and grinding the butt of the cigarette into the dirt. They nod and offer her another. Without hesitation, she takes it and lights it up.
A long silence follows, chilling the April air. Then she begins to speak of him, more to herself than to them. She says how it snowed the day they met and how he held her hand and how she couldn’t eat or sleep for a week. How he told her she was beautiful and kissed her like he meant it (over and over again) and how she finally believed in something she could touch and hold and love. How they used
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:icontheresambraun:theresambraun 8 5
Literature
nicotine.
he brushes a kiss across my forehead.
“your hair still smells like smoke.”
i press my face against his chest.
“your heart still smells like ashes.”
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:icontheresambraun:theresambraun 7 2
Literature
first.
the fairytales and lovesongs
are lies.
because i do not want
to fall in love with you
like i am falling in love
for the first time.
i want your hand
to fit with mine
like they were
moulded
for each other
at the dawn
of time,
like we've been making
footprints side-by-side
through the darkness
together
long before we learned
to shine,
like we were born
from the same
oceans
and i have been looking
to fall in love
with exactly you
every day
since i coughed the seawater
from my lungs
and began
to breathe.
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:icontheresambraun:theresambraun 20 7
Literature
revelation.
we whisper our prayers
in a cathedral of sheets
because we do not know
how to forgive
or be forgiven.
confessions
are made to a doctor
who keeps a record
of our wrongs
neatly tucked in her files
because she knows
not love,
but money.
hospitals
become our altars,
our "hail mary"s
handed to pharmacists
in exchange for
chemical cleansing
of our souls.
we do
everything,
everything
to force ourselves
to fly,
high and higher,
forgetting
that we have been given
the grace
of wings.
we have chosen
to be slaves,
to rebind ourselves
in our chains.
we strive
to turn the wine
to water,
the bread
to crumbs.
but
i tell you
the truth.
the body and brain
will not remain,
the eyes will lose their vision,
the hands their precision,
the ears the sound of earthly song,
the taste of indulgence on the tongue.
faith, at last, will begin to decay,
our hope revealed as the only way,
and we will
succumb
to the promise
of love.
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:icontheresambraun:theresambraun 6 9
Literature
pieces.
he reminds me
that our bodies are built
of earth and sky
into breathing constellations
of skin and scars,
of blessing and beauty,
of essential insanity,
crafted by a God
whose healing hands
have painted
the very cosmos
into which
He has placed us.
he reminds me
that love can be much more
than just another sorry heart.
he reminds me
that even i
can glow in the dark.
he reminds me
that there is
rest for the restless,
hope for the hopeless,
and love for the loveless.
he reminds me
that sometimes
people are puzzle pieces
that can be put together
and
put
together.
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:icontheresambraun:theresambraun 7 0
Literature
melancholia.
this
is a silver lining
painted
grey,
because no matter
how much
you love me
and hold me
and kiss me
and tell me
it'll all be okay,
when my mind
goes black,
it all
fades
away.
:icontheresambraun:theresambraun
:icontheresambraun:theresambraun 5 0
Literature
morning.
my coffee is cold
and so is the body.
gravity
slides morning
into afternoon
while i
am left
in the residue
of dreaming
and yesterdays,
slow,
like the first-fallen
december snow,
slow,
like the foggy monday
that refuses to know
tomorrow,
slow,
like life
until it's time
to go.
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:icontheresambraun:theresambraun 7 2
Literature
thanksgiving dinner.
there are certain things
you cannot talk about
at thanksgiving dinner.
you cannot talk about
"i'm sad"
or "i'm anxious"
or "i'm useless"
or "i'm lonely"
or "i'm crazy"
or "i'm breaking down
again."
you cannot talk about
"i love him"
or "i need him"
or "i miss him"
or "he inspires me
to recover and be
as beautiful
as he tells me
i am."
you cannot talk about
"i'm lost"
or "i'm confused"
or "i'm falling behind"
or "my life matters more
than school ever will."
you cannot talk about
"i miss the way
things used to be"
or "i think i've fallen
away from grace"
or "i wish you'd all
just fall in love"
or "i don't want
to watch you die."
you just wipe away
the quiet tears,
hide your hands
beneath the table,
and all
is silent.
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:icontheresambraun:theresambraun 4 1
Literature
love song.
we are the vulnerable 3am,
locking ourselves safely away
in each other's arms
and whispering our secrets,
our fears and our dreams,
gently passing the words
from my lips to yours
and back again
with each cautious kiss.
we are the breaking sunrise,
the early morning lovers
of light and darkness
as they embrace on the horizon
and set apart their separate ways.
we are the daybreak,
the lightning strike and
the thunder scream,
the moonlight and
the night sky,
colliding oceans and
wildfire,
slowdancing,
romancing
through a
ground-shaking,
earth-quaking love
that paints this
ghost of a town
with sapphire and sulfur,
wonder and wasteland,
desire
and demons
and delight.
we are the morning
and the midnight,
and we are born again.
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"every time i write, every time i open my eyes, i am cutting out parts of myself just to give them to you. so shake the dust, and take me with you when you do."- anis mojgani

Favourites

Mature content
i am not the person you had fallen in love with :iconohsostarryeyed:ohsostarryeyed 50 25
Different shades of the same grey :iconineedchemicalx:iNeedChemicalX 719 20
Literature
(and the dark stopped being scary)
once I fell asleep
beside you, I no longer
had need for nightlights.
:iconohsostarryeyed:ohsostarryeyed
:iconohsostarryeyed:ohsostarryeyed 37 7
Literature
in the next life you were a phoenix
her skin moans at its stitches,
she wants to drag the syllables
like a waterfall in slow motion--
there are lines down your wrists
So you learnt to hide your hurricanes,
you are a tangle of past lives
and defense mechanisms. breathe:
we've been wearing each other like shreds
of fingerprints, i fed you
cracked mortar and the
filmy photographs of us.
don't you dare
count the rings around
your gaunt little saturn-boy--
it took a thousand paper planes
and a flock of vultures
for the word "cathartic"
to perch in your throat.
:iconcamelopardalisinblue:camelopardalisinblue
:iconcamelopardalisinblue:camelopardalisinblue 33 13
spring snowflakes. :iconsollenafotografie:sollenafotografie 220 14 Galaxy :iconjeanfan:JeanFan 322 7 Heavy Water :iconsachakalis:SachaKalis 3,026 81 Ocean Flower :iconsachakalis:SachaKalis 5,807 220 Moonlit mountains :iconineedchemicalx:iNeedChemicalX 1,213 59 Gonna build a heaven :iconineedchemicalx:iNeedChemicalX 2,782 125 walking in the warm light :iconvampire-zombie:vampire-zombie 244 6 when the sun meets the sea :iconvampire-zombie:vampire-zombie 394 15
Literature
to be a waste of grey matter with no self-esteem
forgive these
rorschach nerves &
mercury veins -
i am no tragedy boy,
but i have self-decay
down to an art.
this tar tongue only starts
marlboro conversations &
self-ignition;
i only start fires.
:iconcounting-vertebrae:counting-vertebrae
:iconcounting-vertebrae:counting-vertebrae 209 53
Journal
Friday Feature #4
Hullo everyone! :wave:
I'm SpiderwebWisher, and this is the fourth Friday Feature! My job is to choose six literary pieces and feature them every Friday! I'm open to suggestions for this (and you can note me with such, with the subject title "Friday Feature Suggestion"), anytime from Thursdays to Saturdays. I'm sorry I'M LATE AGAIN, but I guess it's just reality getting me down. Now, let's begin!
:heart: :heart:
Do you know the taste of the universe?, by Synesthi is thought-provoking and amazingly poignant; in which she writes with truth through her youth and personal experiences. Read on.
:heart: :heart:
paper hearts., by theresambraun writes beautifully as this piece unravels in front of your very eyes, and shows you another perspective to cherish the life of another human being.
Please respect the opinions of the author.
:iconLiteratureRoadtrip:LiteratureRoadtrip
:iconliteratureroadtrip:LiteratureRoadtrip 1 1
Literature
he's just not that into you
long-legged and twitching
like the spiders
you watch run
down the
drain,
he doesn’t call
you pretty. you remember
his hands tracing the ink
of your veins, but he
doesn’t call you pretty.
he doesn’t hold
the door, and you
think you’re a liar
but the truth is quivering
naked in your voice
(we will name our children after
extinct kingdoms; dead beautiful
things. i will polish the dull spot
in your eye that you developed
after a terminal case of unnoticed
living. i will never be a cure but
damn it if i won’t be a diagnosis)
the static of his vocal chords
brings you back, martyr
without a cause,
he doesn’t call
you pretty and you
don’t question why.
:iconintricately-ordinary:intricately-ordinary
:iconintricately-ordinary:intricately-ordinary 264 145

Activity


i've been rather MIA on here for a while, but i just wanted to check in and let you all know i'm still existent and i'm incredibly grateful for all of the faves, follows, comments, and overall support i've gotten the past few months that i haven't gotten around to responding to. 

y'all are wonderful.

:heart:

deviantID

theresambraun
Theresa
Artist | Student | Literature
United States

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:iconangelichope:
angelichope Featured By Owner Nov 11, 2016
:iconhappybirthdaysignplz:
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:iconangelichope:
angelichope Featured By Owner Dec 25, 2015
:iconxmassignplz:
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:iconangelichope:
angelichope Featured By Owner Nov 11, 2015
:iconpink-hplz::iconpurple-aplz::iconpink-pplz::iconpurple-pplz::iconpink-yplz:
:iconpurple-bplz::iconpink-iplz::iconpurple-rplz::iconpink-tplz::iconpurple-hplz::iconpink-dplz::iconpink-aplz::iconpink-yplz:

:iconletter-tplz::iconletter-hplz::iconletter-eplz::iconletter-rplz::iconletter-eplz::iconletter-splz::iconalphabetars::iconrainbow-exclamation::iconrainbow-exclamation::iconrainbow-exclamation:

:iconcake-plz:
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:iconchell-dunphy:
Chell-Dunphy Featured By Owner Feb 19, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
This is super late, but thanks so much for the favourite!
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:iconsetmyworldintomotion:
happy birthday! :aww:
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:icontheresambraun:
theresambraun Featured By Owner Nov 12, 2013  Student Writer
Thank you! :D
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:iconsetmyworldintomotion:
you're welcome. :rose:
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:iconintricately-ordinary:
intricately-ordinary Featured By Owner Oct 24, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
 thank you so much for the watch! :iconiluplz: is your icon your eye? it's so pretty <3
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:icontheresambraun:
theresambraun Featured By Owner Nov 5, 2013  Student Writer
You're very welcome! :hug: And yes it is, thank you! :blushes:
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:iconvanessa-lim:
vanessa-lim Featured By Owner Sep 9, 2013  Professional General Artist
Thanks a lot for the fav :)
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