Rosaline

(she/they) Hi friends! Just on here writing for fun and hoping to improve! Any feedback is greatly appreciated. Thank you for reading! 💕

Writings

Followers

Following

Rosaline

(she/they) Hi friends! Just on here writing for fun and hoping to improve! Any feedback is greatly appreciated. Thank you for reading! 💕

Writings

Followers

Following

Pretty Lies

Rosaline

1 min read

Beware the gent who flaunts a honey tongue,

Whose purple prose wins love and wealth alike;

His song is sweet yet leaves so much unsung;

Behind his words, a blade is set to strike.

Beware the maid whose smile shines like gold,

Her friendliness is but a painted mask;

What’s underneath is twisted, curt, and cold:

A gargoyle face, deceitful and grotesque.

Beware the ones who beautify the truth,

With...

Poetry

The Ides Of March

Rosaline

1 min read

Soothsayer whispers

“Today will bring great danger.”

Your pride makes you deaf

Your friends surround you

Daggers drawn and faces grave

The blood leaves your face

At first, you struggle

But he causes you to yield

“Even you, Brutus?”

Farewell, great Caesar

You came, you saw, you conquered

Even still, you lost...

Poetry

The Hands Of A Triangle Shirtwaist Girl

Rosaline

2 min read

All that’s really left of her is her hands.

Flushed pink and scarred red, they lay palms facing up on the concrete floor, which is smothered with burnt fabric and still-cooling ashes. Her nails are torn short—the better to handle gossamer fibers and spinning machines of textile factory work, I suppose—and tiny rivers of dried blood stain their sides. A rusted moonstone ring adorns her bone-thin...

Drama

seventeen

Rosaline

2 min read

When you were seventeen, you fell in love.

I can tell by the language of your letters. Those thousands little notes you passed each other with hurried hands in the hallways. Valentines with red roses imprinted on the front, signed off with sweeping Xs and Os. Lengthy, cursive confessions of flowery feelings I’ve never really understood, but venerated nonetheless. I thought, after all, that I ...

Drama

YA fiction

The Ballet Dancer

Rosaline

1 min read

“Do you love her?” the child whispers, staring up at me with wide, innocent eyes.

I feel my lips turn up ruefully at their corners as I glance back to the girl on stage. Spotlights illuminate her shining, heart-shaped face, which I know is specked with freckles and acne scars invisible to the auditorium. Her chin is tilted upwards ever so slightly, her expression proud as a peacock’s as she spi...

Drama

Conversations

Rosaline

1 min read

Cerys and I sit cross-legged in a field of rotting dandelions and overgrown grass, our bikes heedlessly tossed behind us in a crumpled heap. Shrivelled petals and marching ants tickle our bruised knees, but we pay them no mind—we’re too lost in our conversation to care.

For years now, it’s been our tradition to come here every summer night we can and just talk. But it’s never the superficial ki...

YA fiction

Exquisite

Rosaline

1 min read

I was near finished with the work when I became suddenly aware that I was not simply painting his portrait—I was studying his soul.

My brushstrokes stuttered as I glanced from him to the art and back again. I had accurately portrayed his physical features—the light curl of his blonde hair, the soft curve of his pink lips, the brightness of his blue eyes—but somewhere in the layering of the paint...

Romance

Raindrop Races

Rosaline

1 min read

Drops on the window

Swiftly streamline down the glass

Who will win the race?...

Poetry

Beginnings And Endings

Rosaline

1 min read

Here we are on the cracked blacktop, kicking around a half-deflated soccer ball smudged with dirt, using potholes as goals like we have since we were ten. Our smiles are bright, but we can’t help thinking about how we are closer now to twenty-two than twelve, and how after today, we’ll never see each other again.

The innocence all schoolchildren know is slipping like sand through our fingers; th...

Drama

YA fiction

The Cave

Rosaline

2 min read

The feeling is foreign.

Beams of light—_sun_light—caress my face, opening my scrunched eyes to the wonders of the world, no longer projected in shadow but illuminated in technicolor. The sand that creeps between my toes is warm and red and sparkling, a stark contrast to the cold, monochrome grains I grew up knowing. Laughing people all around me wear fluttering robes of purple, white, gold, gre...