stardust. (you're beautiful)he'sstardust. (you're beautiful)5 days ago in Free Verse More Like This
out of orbit -
dust in his
veins rise and
each word that
drips and pools
defined like the
ribcage of a
baby bird, his
were not made for
this earth but
for the stars.
some days he
fades in and
out of reality like
he never really
wanted to be there
on those days
i just think
my god, you really don't
realise how amazing you are.
Time too ShortOur world today had been changedTime too Short3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
From one of safety, to another deranged
We gasp and cry at the news we hear
Hoping it is a dream
But what matters more
Is the parents who think
of these words so cold
Those little children
they are little fighters
Right to the end.
Gone from our lives
But not from our hearts
We'll keep them there always
Like we have from the start.
No parent should ever
Outlive their child
But now we must see
the lesson on trial
Pray for these families scorned by hate
and let us hold close
Our family blessed and safe.
PressureSomething broke.Pressure3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A hard CRACK while sitting in
a soft chair. No pain registered.
The absence of it
is like watching explosions in space.
You follow the curve of your skull. You remember
how skulls are formed like tectonic plates.
Your head wants to be a planet,
volcanic, living, in change.
You continue to your left shoulder,
the one with all the problems.
But today, it has nothing to say.
Your rib cage moves
like oceanic waves, expecting a storm
that hasn't come.
You stand up,
you consider your legs,
nothing feels wrong,
But you can break
more than your body.
No Poetry IINo poetry was written,No Poetry II6 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
No fairytales were told.
By a girl turned into woman,
by a woman who grew old.
All the fantasies of childhood,
Drowned inside her heart.
Consumed by sense and reason,
A poem torn apart.
She married someone clever,
And watched her children grow.
And never thought of playgrounds,
And dreams of long ago.
And as she raised her daughter,
To avoid tragedy,
She told the girls no tales,
And read no poetry.
She brought up a young woman,
To be sensible and sane.
The child would know no dreaming,
So she would know no pain.
She never thought of castles,
For she was no princess.
Her life full of achievements,
Never knew happiness.
All poetry forgotten,
All fairytales were lost.
But she made lots of money,
So never mind the cost.
Drowning The Caged DoveYou used to be alive to me. Once upon a time your skin was warm and touchable. When I held you I used to be able to feel your heart beating in your chest. Now if I dare to touch your rigid body there is nothing but stony skin to brush against mine. I gave up on you.Drowning The Caged Dove4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Recollections of when we first met eat at the corners of my mind. You were as nervous as a caged dove, ashamed to fly, ashamed to sing to me, to kiss me. The last time I kissed your lips they were cold and nearly lifeless. No, not nearly, I know that now. They were lifeless. There was nothing of you left. I ran to you too late. I couldn't save you.
Your eyes are blank and staring. Not dreaming, not aspiring, not wanting, not giving. Just gone. Just nothing. Gazing forever at the black ground above you, the black ground weighing down on you. Six feet of lies and betrayal.
omg draco n tonks in a fanfic"Stop dawdling Draco!"omg draco n tonks in a fanfic12 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
A young boy, perhaps seven years old, looked back at his mother. He had hair so blonde it was nearly white, brilliant blue eyes, and a look about him that promised he'd be handsome in the future. His face had been glued to a shop window, in which was displayed a glossy-handled broom.
"Momma, can I have it?"
"No, you're too young. When you're older we'll get you a broom, and by that time they'll be even better than that one." His mother was tall and slim, her figure by no means betraying the fact she'd born a child. Her name was Narcissa Malfoy, and her hair was long and more on the golden side of blonde than her son's. Her eyes were the same brilliant blue however, though they lacked the sparkle of a child.
"But I want it Momma!" He said, hitting the glass with his little fist, a tantrum looming in his eyes.
"I said no Draco, now leave it be or we'll speak to your father about this."
Draco stepped back from the window as if it had burned him. His fath
Expedition Letters to GraceDear Grace,Expedition Letters to Grace5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
You told me, back when we were visiting Peru and I was feeling down, that I would eventually find my calling in life. I write to you now to tell you, quite happily, that I have.
I can't explain much about it at the moment, only that my sudden absence from the university is for a reason. As I write, I am currently en route to New York City, to visit their museums and get a taste of the culture. I told you before how I wanted to visit New York while I had the chance, and now I travel with purpose.
I will say now, that while what I am about to do may seem strange to you, even mad, I can promise you that I am of sound mind and am determined to see my ambition through. Never before have I felt so strongly about the rightness of my decision. I will explain more in time. All I can tell you now is that I am launching my own expedition, and that it will be unorthodox, to say the least. I write you because you are my oldest and dearest friend, and I feel I can trust you.
Give my best
bright eyes - collabtheres a girl whose lips taste like a half moon and her fingers like the sun, just two minutes and thirty three seconds before dawn. you know the way you feel, when youre standing outside in the near-dark with a cold chest and cold toes, waiting for the sun to appear from behind the horizon. when theres a whisper in the leaves and murmurs from the grass, and the mud; its filling the gaps between your toes and youre crying. it is just like her, you think. just like her fingers with cracked nails and calloused fingertips.bright eyes - collab6 years ago in Teen More Like This
theres a girl whose got bright eyes and makes you think about eating tea and biscuits in houses with whitewashed walls. she makes you think that maybe the clouds are dreams but then it rains and you want to disappear; sink into nothingness. shes oh so beautiful with her vicious thoughts and destructive tendencies, but the worst thing though, is the way she always smells of paint. of aerosol cans and pretty colours, and the way
closer1.closer7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
she kept the christmas tree
up well past march and its a
broken and sad
the words, no one understood.
but the silence.
and i hum in this
empty house and
echoes. the phone
keeps ringing and i
say. i say:
and you say:
don't. just --
but here i am and
there. there you are.
your face as delicate
as your tears today. and
i touch you as if
you're a paper boat,
about to float away. and i
around your thoughts,
afraid i'll wake
my clothes smell like
you. my skin
smells like you. and
there is a dead tiger
in my bed. we're
an electrical storm
exploding in the sky and
i don't think i've
ever loved you more.
A Textual AnnealingA thousand thousand generationsA Textual Annealing4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
misinterpreting the lightning,
A tumult of attempts, many
mumblings while we burn - each time
most is lost, some survives.
At the whistle of illusion that awakens,
day drops dream on me. I am
thick with swerve: If there are giants
there is a world they walk on.
And for the final faith
to be an inversion: We are
the electricity lunging toward the sky.
Three Drunk TeenagersBitter liquid on cynical lips,Three Drunk Teenagers4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Uphill, blue bottles, and
Twenty pound notes...
Spinning around and around,
Don't look behind, it's too confusing,
Don't walk into the road and no,
That car wasn't as close as you thought it was.
I'm going to die,
And I'll rot as you watch me on camera,
Sliding down the egg swirl and
Stroking furry cat bellies
In the dark.
Lying on the grass and watching the clouds go by whilst
Ignoring the concerned stares of onlookers,
Just music and you, me and her...
Bathed in bitter fizzing gold.
Meet Me in The Copper FieldsSo meet me in the Copper Fields, my love,Meet Me in The Copper Fields4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Where words wither in the wind and all
You can feel is my hand in yours,
Cry your tears into the sea and
Dance with me in the Copper Fields....
swallowsswallowsswallows3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to the sky
by the byes
swoop and dive
seem more alive
llp - aug2012 - dA - DLD-8/28/12
StorytimeStorytime13 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Scalding bathes for Lolita
shake her body up.
And arsenic drinks,
the coroner thinks,
were responsible for the scars.
Now little mother spanish
and stoic papa cry.
Mourning and lamenting,
sister Nola dies -
of suicide, they say.
Two children in a day.
Another wake, funeral cake,
now everyone\'s asking why.
A week goes by
and Lorelai, their sitter in arrears,
\"When those children called
I wished that they would die!
So I bathed the youngest quiet,
after tepid poisoned tea,
and strung her sister,
up on the willow tree.\"
if you're an ocean, then i'm drowning.You are a calculated mistake if you're an ocean, then i'm drowning.4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
something that I've known is wrong from the very start. And I wake up next to you every morning lately, praying that your split lips don't sink me even though I know it's too late.
You're already taking me under, because, baby
you're heavy like hurricane. Like a thousand drops of rain pounding down on my shoulder blades. You're seeping into my skin and into my bloodstream. It's only a matter of time until you spread to my heart.
It's too late. I'm already drowning in you.
It's too late, but god, I cannot love you.
You're like the last boy I kissed
which means I should already be working on forgetting the exact way your fingertips press into my hipbones or how my name sounds curled up in your mouth and the way you like to speak it so careful like a secret like if you said it too loud, I could get away from you. Like you want to keep me. But mostly I should forget you.
And sometimes, I try, but right now, I'm calculating the
your warmthyou stood in the doorway, damp orange light falling across your skin, black hoodie falling from your shoulders gently, hair a mess - and you were all but perfect. you stood, leaning against the door frame a little too drunk, and smiled at me. it was that kind of smile that i knew meant more than it should have, the one i have seen too many times since - the kind of smile that meant something. i'd like to tell myself it meant the world - that when, for the first time in a year, our eyes met and you told me something that wasn't a lie - the stars had aligned or the universe corrected itself - but i know that's not true.your warmth4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
we kissed that night, the alley way beside your house. you ran your hand along my legs, along my ripped tights, and i could feel your heartbeat under the sleeve of the shirt i had always loved. you stared at me, face relaxed, and told me that you had wanted that for a year.
sometimes, i think i have too.
my heart didn't explode though, and my knees didn't shudder undernea
Little Birds in Rigid FlocksBig bright smiles becauseLittle Birds in Rigid Flocks4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I don't care.
Whisper behind my back
Because I don't care.
And I'll laugh with you
Because, you see, I'm rather funny,
Well, I think I am
And that's all that matters.
I'm sick of being upset,
Just because of what the people say,
What the whisperers whisper.
I'm sick of pretending
That I'm someone I'm not.
So I'm trying to care a little less,
No longer will I let my tears tattoo your
Harsh words to my
It doesn't matter, not anymore.
Now I'm free, and you're not.
Who's laughing now, little birds?
Little birds, all trapped in your rigid flocks?
The answer is me, now I'm the eagle.
Now I'm laughing.
PathDo you see the path ahead?Path5 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
Lit with lights so many so bright?
Will you follow them tonight?
Or will you stray instead?
You let shadow consume
But is it worth the cost of rebirth
to stay dark with this earth?
No, let your life resume
There's a plan for you
There's always more and you know you adore
The time given you for
Making something new
Keep yourself on track
Follow the course, feeling God's force
Push you on with no remorse
And never ever look back
i'm contradictory at best.i wonder what it's like to look into your face and not want to spill every secret i've ever had. i want to be startlingly indifferent. i want to say i don't care and mean it. i want to be reckless in more than that jaywalking every morning on my way to work sort of way. i want to say something that will completely change the course of everything forever. i want to be the sort of thing people need to invent a new word for, because "cataclysmic" won't cover what a disaster i am.i'm contradictory at best.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
i want to be someone new.
i worry about why the air always tastes several degrees colder than your skin. i know there's a correlation that i haven't figured out yet, but my mind doesn't work fast enough to make the connections anymore. i worry that all the synapses are breaking apart and my brain is shutting down. i worry that i'm dying in slow motion from the inside out so no one can even tell. not that anyone would care, but i worry about the most absurd of things. and then i worry that i don't worry enough abo
The Soul Catcher And The GreyI saw your eyes on the horizon tonight, staring at me in a perfect grey picture. They were beautiful. I saw your soul dance and breathe in the green sea today. In that moment I was reminded of your purple converses and wilful smile. In that moment I knew that nature was mourning you too.The Soul Catcher And The Grey4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Behind me a man with a camera took a picture, I don't know why, maybe he saw you standing, gazing, over my shoulder. You see, my friend, if I had a camera and I saw your twisted curls and sculpted face... well, I'd take a picture too.
Your soul was everything. It was too whole and too pure for the sin of love to touch. It was as well rounded as a nacreous tear cried at dawn and as fresh as a babe's wailing face at first breath.
On my skin I felt your kisses as the rain fell on and around me. As I sit here writing this the wind tousles my