Heartstrings & Ink

I am the embodiment of chaos.

Not the loud kind.
The kind that smiles and still ruins things.

I overthink until love suffocates.
I stay silent until it sounds like I don’t care.
I feel too much, then act like I feel nothing.

People don’t leave because I’m cruel.
They leave because I’m complicated
and I don’t know how to ask for patience
without sounding weak.

I want order.
I crave peace.
But my mind is a room with too many open tabs
and none of them are kind.

I ruin good moments by remembering bad ones.
I sabotage closeness by expecting loss.
I push before I’m pushed.

That’s my chaos.

Not fire.
Not storms.
Just a man
who loves deeply
and doesn’t know how to do it
without breaking something in the process.

©️2025 Heartstrings & Ink🖤

Part 5: The Dead Can't Speak.

Written by He Thatdoesntexist

Note to reader: I apologize for the lengthy wait, I almost gave up on the short story, but I will fight to successfully reach the end of it.🖤

Warning ⚠️: The following short story contains sensitive content s*xual violence that may trigger sensitive readers; readers under 16 are advised to not read this. This short story is a work fiction, f**k your feelings tho.🖤

The cab dropped me off at Tambotjie Street, about 200m away from my residence, I walked my way home. It was silent as the graveyard at night, with the sound of night bugs missing. I went into my room to get out of my school uniform, which led to me looking at my reflection in the mirror, it was becoming a habit. The f**ked up part of it is that the feelings were not consistent, sometimes I felt s*xy as 'Madonna' in her 20s, sometimes it didnt feel like that. After what felt like a lifetime of me hating the woman looking back at me, I decided to go into the bathroom to refresh and go through the feeling of "failing grade 11."

A few hours had passed before Jacob came through. I had plenty of time to reflect on my decisions in life but I was unhinged. Do you understand what is meant by not giving a f**k? It is an art, but that white n***a that wrote that orange book never spoke of the dangers of this state. I was caught in my thoughts when the phone rang-
"Hello?" I answered
"I'm down the street," the voice on the other end said, I recognized it to be the voice of my beloved Jacob.
"Alright, I'll be out in a minute." I did a quick check in the mirror, did a "360" before striding out the door. I got to his car and he looked star-struck. It felt good to have a male figure look at me the way he did, it was just thirst but I wasn't being picky.
"Hi," I said through the window, struggling with the door of the car. To which he unlocked and opened it for me from inside, (I took that too).
"You look pretty, as always," he said softly.
"Thank you," I blushed.
"Did you eat? We can pass by the drive through and get something to eat."
"No, thanks. Let's go handle business."

We drove to a guest house he had already booked, it was a decent place, not that I was expecting luxury. We were just going to have s*x, I wasn't in it for some Princess treatment. The receptionist welcomed us.
"Welcome to Mafadi guest house, how many rooms would you like to take?" She asked, with a wide smile. The red lipstick she wore was too loud, she had some stuck on her teeth but I was not going to be the one to point it out. Her make-up was not bad, compared to what I've come across at my mom's work place.
"Just one please, I have already booked online," Jacob replied.
"Alright sir, please give me your booking details, then we can proceed with your payment."
I stood there looking around as the two were getting acquainted. Jacob was a flirt, I give him that. Before I knew it, the conversation was concluded and we were being directed to the room. I expected the lady to ask questions like "where's her mom?" Because all things considered, Jacob looked as old as my father, but he was bigger and taller, but she didn't ask any questions, she just minded her own business. We got the room, it was a bed with white sheets, a shower, two drawers, coffee machine on the other end with two cups, and some condiments.

Jacob wanted to chit chat for some reason and I was not interested in all that, so I made the first move. I kissed him on the lips, to which he responded by crushing me in his arms. He started huffing and puffing rushing the process.
"Relax," I said, "we still have time."
I pushed him into the bed, I saw that in one of the videos on that x site, getting on top of him whining as I kissed him. Don't get me wrong, I hadn't known what s*xual pleasure was, that was a moment I chose to try learn. I wanted the moment to be under my control, so I could dictate how it goes, having memorized every step I learned from the s*xual psychologists on 'Google'. I proceeded to unbutton his shirt, but I must've been too slow because he flipped me over like a pancake, switching the winds of power. It startled me, but I loved it at the same time. He started ripping my clothes off my tiny body, I could see the drool dripping from the corner of his lips. He proceeded to take his pants off. I was looking forward to a bit of foreplay but he was not interested in all that extra s**t. My heart sank because the first time I was giving myself to a man willingly, I got less than the bare minimum. While I was I still at that, he plunged himself in me and started stroking away. However, for a person that looked so hungry, he just performed 3 shallow strokes and landed himself on top of me, out of breath - adding up to my frustrations...

To be Continued.

Copyright
©️ 2024 Ordained Ink's Haven
All Rights Reserved.

Show Me

Written by deadupsidedown🌻

Show me your hands,
Not just to hold,
But to feel the weight of what you carry,
The edges of your truth,
And all the softness you keep hidden
From the world that never learned to love you right.

Let me see you beneath the surface,
Where words no longer matter,
Where silence becomes the loudest confession,
And your breath tells me everything
You’ve never been brave enough to say.

There’s a beauty in how you unravel—
Slow, like moonlight creeping over shadows,
Like trust that doesn’t rush,
But lingers between the seconds,
Waiting for permission to fall.

I don’t need your stories or your armor,
Just the weight of your skin against mine,
The pulse that says you’re still here,
Still choosing this space,
Even when the world is too loud to hear us.

So show me,
Not with grand gestures or promises,
But with the way your eyes soften
When you think no one’s watching.
In the way you reach for me
Without reaching for anything at all.

Show me,
In the quiet,
Where the truth slips out unnoticed,
And the smallest touch
Becomes the loudest answer.

Copyright
©️ 2024 Ordained Ink's Haven
All Rights Reserved

Where We Drift

Written by deadupsidedown🌻

We’re still here,
In the same room where sunlight once spilled
Across our tangled limbs,
Where morning tasted like whispered dreams,
And silence felt like home.

Now, the air feels different—
Heavy, as if holding its breath.
I search for you in the quiet hum,
But the space between us stretches
Like a thread about to snap.

Your eyes,
They used to hold my reflection,
Now they skim across me,
Barely touching, like raindrops
That miss the earth.
I wonder if you notice
How the laughter has dulled,
How words fall between us,
Shallow as a fading echo.

We speak, but our voices don’t meet.
Sentences drift like loose feathers,
Falling without landing,
Brushed aside by the winds of what’s unsaid.
We move together,
But it feels more like a dance around silence—
Each step careful, measured,
Afraid to disturb the fragile ground beneath us.

I used to know your every breath,
Could feel the pulse of your thoughts,
Even when the room was still.
But now it’s like trying to remember
The sound of a melody
That slips further with each passing note.

Your hand rests close to mine,
But there’s no warmth,
No spark left to bridge the cold.
The touch that once lit fires
Now feels like ash,
Soft, but lifeless.
I wonder if you notice,
If you feel it too.

Are we just playing pretend?
Holding onto the memory of who we were,
Tracing the outlines of something
That no longer exists?
Or is this what happens when love lingers,
But loses its flame?

I wish I could speak,
Break this silence that’s swallowing us whole,
But my words are heavy,
Like stones I can’t lift,
And I wonder,
If they would even reach you.

Still, I stand here, waiting,
Hoping you’ll turn,
Hoping we can find the thread again—
The one we wove when we still believed
In forever.

But maybe,
Just maybe,
We’re already too far from where we began,
Drifting in the same space,
But worlds apart.

Copyright
©️ 2024 Ordained Ink's Haven
All Rights Reserved.