Love Torn in Dream

Behold my rushed submission for the Sora Zine, One Sky 358 Destinies.

This magazine led me to so many amazing artists!! ;A;

dreaming of you: [4:48 am] i’m thinking of things so wrong, with my eyes closed, screaming in my sleep, dreaming of dreams so sinful, so torn. oh love, i’m all alone, it’s the middle of the night, and i’m thinking of you.

last night i dreamt that somebody loved me - dala; alone/with you - daughter; if you wait - london grammar; fossa - daughter; rose (acapella) - anna tsuchiya; lonely hands - angus and julia stone; hiding tonight - alex turner; atlas - coldplay; the sinking man - of monsters and men; morning song - the lumineers; the devil’s tears - angus and julia stone; last night i dreamt that somebody loved me - low


listen to me - for god’s sake, i’ve been dreaming of you for centuries.

first cringe of morning

A post-wall scene, pre-BWB Doomsday ficlet

655 words

There are moments when Rose can forget that she’s lost almost everything, moments when the pain of having love and dreams and forever torn away isn’t trying to create a void where her heart had once resided.

(Sometimes she thinks that there already is a void there, just like the one that separates her from the home she’d made in the TARDIS and in his arms. Some days she feels so numb that she can’t help but think that all the void stuff that had floated around her once upon a time had made a home in her soul.)

(She almost retches when she sees a pair of 3-D glasses and is reminded of how he’d grinned while explaining what they were for.)

These moments of blissful forgetfulness never last long. She finds them in between sleep and waking, those precious seconds of peace and contentment and wondering what the Doctor had planned for the day before reality came crashing down once again, crushing her and leaving her gasping for breath as everything fell apart anew.

Keep reading

Wings.

Your wings
fleetingly as clouds
and dissipating as easily

Your wings
beautifully forged
with colors no man could ever dream of to perceive

Your wings
created by love
torn off by hate

Your wings
once a life source
a pride

Your wings
are not you

Your wings
are your past

Your wings
a shadowy image
a memory

But you still remain
and for that I am truly grateful

Cause I will have you
with or without Your wings

- celtic-poetry