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FriendzonedI tell you the truth
And you say it would be better if we stayed friends
So our friendship would never fall apart.
Like hell, I'm okay with that
Until you tell me a week later that you're falling for our hot blonde friend.
How am I not supposed to cry about it
Especially when you ask me to go & see if she's still in love with you too.
I can't wish vengeance on her
Because she's a friend..
Then again, so are you,
And so you're basically turned on by your metaphorical sibling.
Why is it that I am so used to being the 'messenger'
Who sends information from both ends?
Just gimme a damn hug-
I don't want to think about it with a working mind.
Corrupt me with the image of you once again
And wonder what sorrow I describe through poetry that you've never read.
College DrinkingAwakening to the singe of the morning light
My head pulses with a raging fury
And I position myself up on my side
Staring into the eyes of my best friend
Knowing that he made sure I'd be fine.
DrowningThrashing wildly whilst constricted by the arms of chlorine-filled water
I know I should help my friends
But the adrenaline & desire for a breath of air is too strong for me to even care..
I'm drowning, my mind pleas
Even though there is no one to listen to these silent screams.
I'm going to die here
Surrounded by people who are too consumed in their own lives to care about us three
And with a raging heart
But then the images of my friends flash before my eyes as I inhale the cause of my panicking
All of them smiling
Except for the one whose heart belongs to someone else...
Trippin'I shut my eyes
Guided by your voice yet again
The phone pressed to my ear
My mouth gaping open
Like I'm breathing fire.
Whatever you command
I shall do
But it's all for you
All for you..
I see demons in the atmosphere
Head-banging T-rexes on my wall
Jeff the Killer staring into my soul as he lingers in the shadows
Your hands against my shoulders.
I want to scream
But it'll wake my parents up.
I want to hide
But I'm not a pussy.
I want to break something
But I'm not that much of a madwoman.
I can stay up all night
And listen to your perverted jokes
That our other friends would be traumatized from
I can laugh like a weasel
At anything you say
I can make noises for you
And listen to you say, "Damn."
But on the other end of the phone
I seem so normal
My imagination is taking over this sadistic reality I live in
And making it worse.
So I hold on by the thread
That is your voice
Hoping that you'll pull me back up to the surface of sanity
And that you won't let me fa
HimHe plays video games past twelve
He sleeps until I call him
He laughs like he's from heaven
He smiles with the grin of a million dollar man.
I wonder if he ever kissed a girl
I wonder if he ever died for someone
I wonder if he ever saw past my façade
I wonder if he ever found the pieces of my battered heart.
The way he makes us chortle
The way he makes us shine
The way he makes us happy
The way he makes us safe.
Maybe if he hadn't been so perfect
Maybe if he hadn't been so tainted
Maybe if he hadn't been so powerful
Maybe he wouldn't be here at all..
He stops playing video games once he's tired
He stays awake until I sleep
He cries like he's fallen from the sky
He glares with the glower of a broken man.
Sweet Confessions"When I asked for your hand at the beginning of the year
It was because
I wanted to know what it would be like if we ever held hands.."
DifferentMaybe someone loves me
But I still sit upon this throne of ash
Knowing that I have a chance to reach out & try to become something I'm not...
I could be a homewrecker
I could be a popular girl
I could be a slut,
Though I don't even know how.
Perhaps all of this bad luck I've obtained could just go away
If I was someone else to these people I will never quite understand.
Maybe I could actually get love in return for my efforts
And then watch it all go down in flames.
I could cause hearts that don't belong to me shatter
I could send guys to their demise
I could drive them insane;
Though that doesn't sound like me at all..
But that's the point, isn't it?
Queen Without A CrownI stand alone
My pair of cold, narrowed eyes scouring the rubble around me
Those black leather boots of mine clinging to my feet
As I hum a song of sorrow.
It tastes like whiskey,
The polluted air.
I'm addicted to being an outlaw
Because I've got hardly any responsibilities.
But since I know how to survive
I won't be broken & bruised for being myself any longer.
It's bittersweet love that he conveys
Because in reality,
It doesn't exist.
But I'm still restless for it
As though the one I love can hear the lies that spew from my mouth
Lies are deadly.
And he'll just act as though it's nothing.
But this time, he died
And I trek through this nightmare with his final words racking against my brain
Though I'm not looking back
And I'm not regretting anything.
Cherry chapstick buried in the school grounds
Plastic merging with the earth
Everything is withering
So will you be there for the funeral?
I know it's a sin
To be standin' in the rain
With lust on my mind
But I can't help it
Death followed my father home.Death bought a new pair of shoes from my father. It left and hit a woman right in front of my father’s store. It dragged her thirty feet across the parking lot before speeding off, leaving her to bleed in front of Target. It brought my father out of his shoe store to direct traffic around the body, blood trickling against his shoes. It tapped the shoulder of an employee with CPR training. It got blood all over his clothes and sent him home early for the day when there was nothing he could do.
Death followed my father home. It called my father’s cell phone with an invitation he couldn’t turn down. It put a new playlist in my father’s Pandora shuffle that brought him to tears. It picked out the finest formal wear my father owned and laid it on the bed. It cancelled the plans my father had with his grandson.
Death gave my nephew an empty balloon. My father took it away before he could choke. It wheezed a skeletal laugh and patted the boy on the head.
a youth without flowerswake up, dress in your sunday best - that white church dress with the ribbon collar wound tight like a noose around your neck. don't wince when mamma pulls your hair back into twin tails, even though your scalp feels like it'll split open.
get in the back seat. wonder why your uncle is driving the family car down wheezy roads, but only wonder silently. from the back seat you see his fat old stomach wobble as the ford jostles down a gravel road toward church. apologize to mamma when your head smacks into the window - it's your fault, anyway.
smile like your daddy is the preacher, but don't seem too happy. mamma told you that today is a sad day. this thought rattles around in your tiny head; it doesn't make sense. how can the sky be as blue as a bird's belly on a sad day? there aren't many clouds in the sky.
don't fuss when mamma pulls you away from the kids playing ball underneath the big oak tree. she's only doing that to help you - you wouldn't want those pretty black shoes to get scu
Blood Regent: FaithfulThe beads were cold on his fingertips. The old brick of the church smelled of mold; corroded by the decades of winds breezing up from the loch.
“O my God, I am heartfully sorry for having offended thee,” he rolled the bead along the edge of his finger. The words spilled from his lips, memorized but still genuine. He lifted the stick until the candle finally breathed flame.
“- and I detest all my sins because of Thy just punishment, but most of all because I have offended Thee my God…”
“Garrett,” a voice called from behind him.
“- Who is all good and deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve…”
“Garrett, haven’t you asked enough?” Garrett felt a hand brush his shoulder. His scar rubbed against the cloth and the feeling was unpleasant.
“That is the point of repentance, Duncan. It will never be enough. Leave me to my prayers, please.”
Garrett watched Duncan’s shadow dance across the walls. He p
Generations - Through the Years1956
“So tell me, do you think I can get away with this on the beach at Nice?”
Helen Forbes looked over at her daughter and said “I don’t know – you don’t think it shows a little too much?”
Katherine smiled as she looked at herself in the mirror. “Nah – I don’t think so,” she said with a smile. The sleeveless white blouse was open at the neck, the lapel folded back, and her red shorts had little pockets at the front. Her outfit was completed with a pair of white heeled sandals.
“I still think it’s a little showy,” Helen said as she went back to packing her daughter’s case. Her mother was wearing a blue blouse, the neck open and the lapels pressed back, and a knee length red cotton skirt that buttoned up the front, with white open toed shoes.
“Come on Mum – what did you wear when you were my age?”
“Short dresses, long socks and pigtails,”
Not a Date, simply an InteractionA lanky, slightly scruffy yet well-dressed man sat in the ornate cast iron chair provided him by the street-side cafe. His icy blue eyes were squinted with the kind of hatred only confidence, or arrogance, can bring a man, and his form is covered with a crimson and black pinstripe suit. This man had shooed away his waiter several times that evening as he gazed at the other tables, absent-mindedly sipping the merlot in his fluted wine glass. He was about to move over to a table where a lone, middle-aged woman sat when his vision was blocked with a feminine form dressed in blue. "I hope you don't mind the company," the stranger said politely, her voice like silk ribbons dancing in the ocean. "But I saw you were alone, and thought you could use the presence of another human." The man sneered, looking over the woman in front of him. She was clothed in an backless, single shoulder indigo-transitioning-to-cobalt dress, and her clear blue eyes were surrounded with smoky make-up of a similar h
SethEn la oscuridad del origen del mundo definí mi destino
La llave de la verdad yace enterrada en lo profundo de mi alma
Mi sangre inerte clama por el conocimiento perdido.
By the sea shoreThere's a sound like the ocean when you put your ear to a conch shell. Or it's supposed to be the ocean. Lynn's always thought otherwise.
It's the sound of pulling and pushing and sighing and rushing.
Feral, fierce echoes.
There's a bone in your ear that's shaped like a shell. Lynn thinks that's why the conch is so special; it’s a link, a familiarity that grasps as deep as your bones.
She found her conch on a trip to Cedar Key, with Tommy and Lizzie and Helen. They wandered along the sand, skipping in and out of waves, watching the water eat the shore. Lynn liked the way each wave flattened along the beach, grasping greedy at her toes. Tommy and Lizzie whooped war cries at seagulls. Helen chased a hermit crab from the tide line to a tidal pool. Lynn gathered driftwood and seaglass, searching for the perfect natural knicknack. The conch shell was half-buried in seaweed. She washed it, standing calf-deep in the body of the
Wax'n'Wane - PMDu Written AppEXPLORERS GUILD: Team Wax’n’Wane
Date Joined: September 28th 2013
Current Funds: 6 St
Species: Meowth *shiny
Characteristic: Often lost in thought
Gender: Male Age: 21
Strength: 2 Agility: 4
Intelligence: 3 Charisma: 1+1
Total Points Left: 0/10
Type Bonus: Normal -> Charisma
- Default Gloves
---- A pair of brown gloves Prince got once joining the Explorers guild.
- Apricorn Ocarina
---- An ocarina earned during Task #1. Princ
anythingHold on. No, wait, a little to the left. Smile. Moment captured. We'll hate it later. We love it now. You don't use enough exclamation marks when you talk, birdie. I know. I don't like them. You are too close for breathing. Hold my hand when we are not together. Hold my hand through walls and fallen trees. Let me live in everything you see. Let me jump from every object you glance at. Let my name ring out as a ghost when you see someone with hair like mine. Let the memory of my hands graze your mind when you see someone else's. Let nothing else be enough. And my shadow hovers over everything you are. And my voice still makes you jerk your head. And you are my first experiment, and let the sound of typing make you remember me. May the blurred silhouette against the kitchen window at 10pm when the light is long remind you of me. May you miss where your head fell against my collarbone. Scoop up burned charcoal with bare fingers and cry. Dip your guitar string calluses in the ocean and cry
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More