I amI am.I am4 years ago in Emotional More Like This
Feeding off your breath against my skin;
I'm sighing with each fall of your lungs,
catching every droplet in suspense and allowing myself to be ---
what I am.
Hanging on your every word;
I'm watching the vowels float around me ,
watching them slide from the tip of your tongue as I'm hearing the silk butter of your voice melt into my ears.
I'm glowing with promises and I'm blushing at your whispers.
Watching my life come together;
I'm gazing into the entirety of our future with just one look in your eyes.
I'm synchronising with every beat of your heart and I'm allowing myself to be what ---
I am love
I am in love.
Candles and LightersShe couldn't focus on the page in front of her, the tears threatening to fall from her eyes stopped her sight. She held back a whimper, refusing to let the people around her see the pain she felt. Her eyes tried to slide toward the desk to her left but she wouldn't let them. Yet somehow, like always they ended up over there anyways.Candles and Lighters3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
A tear fell from her eyes even as she tried to blink it away. His last sketch still graced the tabletop the fanciful creature staring at her with wide, innocent eyes. Her strength failed her; she stood, her movements harsh, and rushed out the room. A classroom of eyes followed her exit.
She dashed from the brick building, sprinting to her truck and climbing into the front seat. She allowed her head to rest on the steering wheel, tears cascading down her pale cheeks. Blonde hair fell down her back in waves, her cerulean eyes usually gleamed in the sunlight, and her skin was normally a rosy peach; yet, at that moment, she had never felt more useless, un
A Cold NightA bird flies over the horizon as the sun begins to set, leaving an orange ray of light over the sand. The ocean glows a deep blue, the waves splashing over a young woman's feet.A Cold Night4 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
The mushy sand covers her bare feet, a feeling both disgusting and comforting. It sends shivers down her spine, as does the cold California evening breeze. Her long blonde hair offers little warmth, nor does the sweater her boyfriend had given her two weeks earlier.
Cars zoom by on the highway, so close and yet so far away.
Se stands in the sandy water silently, waiting for him. Waiting to hear his footsteps as he comes up behind her. Waiting to see his face, surrounded by his dark-brown hair.
Waiting to feel warmth as he wraps his arms around her.
Her phone vibrates in her pocket, pulling her from her thoughts.
"Hello?" she says into the phone.
The voice of a worried friend replies, "They found him, Megan. They found him."
There is no question of who he is, of who they are. All she knows is that something terr
This Used to be our BenchI walked down the winding path, so narrow and so tedious to navigate, by myself. It was dark, but I knew the way well since you and I had been here many times before. As I made my way farther and farther down the path to my intended destination, I held the picture of you close to my chest. I felt raindrops start to fall down from the sky, but I did not quicken my pace. I only held your picture closer to me. I wanted to enjoy every moment of this walk, for it was the last time I knew I would walk down this path, our path ever again.This Used to be our Bench2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I had a hood I could’ve covered my hair with to keep myself dry, but I didn’t. You loved the rain, and the raindrops reminded me of our first kiss. I closed my eyes along the way recalling the way you had held me close to you as the rain had splattered my face and made my make-up run down my cheeks.
“You are so beautiful,” you had said as you gently leaned in to kiss me. I was so scared, because I had never been kissed before, b
BibliophileI drove by that old coffee shop yesterday. When I saw it, the tip of my foot twitched towards the break, before remembering that there wasn’t anyone waiting for me anymore. The chalkboard sign still read “Welcome” in cursive French, and the usual group of hipsters and loners sat outside on the steps, enjoying the rare clear sky with fruity Italian sodas and iced chais. It felt different not to stop there. It felt wrong.Bibliophile2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
So on my way home, in the opposite direction, I finally gave in and walked inside, for old time’s sake. It looked the same, with long floorboards, knotted bruise marks in the wood and dents from furniture legs. It was chilly, the way it had always been, with high, lofty ceilings and a single fan that was never on. The first thing that had always caught my eyes were the tall, giant bookshelves. They were stuffed to the brim with books, their spines multi-colored and smelling of wax. Some had definitely seen better days.
But the same could be said
Charity BallsDearest Karen,Charity Balls2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I never wanted to be that person, you know. That overly-sentimental, fatherly figure that tells stories from the “good old days” and smokes cigars because he doesn’t really care about getting lung cancer anymore. And I’m sure, wherever you are, you’re laughing your little blonde head off, because you never would have expected it. You married a rebel, and now look at me. I’m normal. I fit in. I go with the flow and it’s ridiculously easy.
It’s also ridiculously boring, you know. I didn’t realize how freaking reliant I was on you to entertain me until, well, you weren’t here anymore. You were always the one who woke up in the morning with buckets of energy, who baked cookies and pineapple-upside-down cupcakes, who made plans for nature hikes and community service. You dragged me out of the house to fundraisers and charity balls, and hell, I’d never even heard of a charity ball until I met you.
The Psychotic Rants of a MadmanI still feel your presenceThe Psychotic Rants of a Madman5 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Here at my side,
And it's made me go crazy,
Like that DAMNED Dr. Jekl and Mr. Hyde.
You see, I hated you
When you were still here,
And now your ghost haunts me,
Filling me with anger and fear...
I've killed my WHOLE family
And YET I have have had no time to mourn.
I have had no time to REST
Though my body is worn.
For, even when my anger
Is hidden away,
I know that you'll come,
And then you will say:
"You're a goooood pal.
You're my beeeeest friend.
You and I will be together forEVER,
Best friends till the eeeeend.
Why didn't you ever leave?
I TOLD YOU TO GO!
...but you said we were friends,
You WOULDN'T leave. No.
And there you sat with that hideous smile
Showing me all your sick taxadermy pets,
Making them laugh and talk and dance
Like some twisted little jest.
And so it itched, it burned, it scratched
DEEP inside my brain
Until it maaaade meeee gooo
Dialogue: Tangled"You've changed."Dialogue: Tangled2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"I hope that's not an accusation."
"Of course not. It's an observation."
"But you have."
"Wanna tell me how?"
"You're a mess...oh, come on. Don't look at me like that."
"I washed my hair today, you know."
"Excuse your dry sense of humour, but I wasn't referring to your strawberry-scented hair."
"Fine, then. I'm a mess. Enlighten me, but try not to insult me, will you?"
"Don't worry, it happens to a lot of people, really."
"You don't know who you are. You're not a jock, even though you love soccer. You're definitely not a writer, even though I know what lies inside that pink folder underneath your bed. You're not intellectual, despite the absence of anything below an A on your report card. You don't know who you are, so you've slopped together everything you could be into a messy form, like a stained glass window with no real picture, and you project that image of yourself - a little of everything, a part of you suite
Ghosts in this MachineThe gear slips as the cog easesGhosts in this Machine4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
past the missing teeth
and slowly, one by one, the parts
begin to show signs of weakness.
The cylinders sigh with the hiss of steam as
the engine is forced
to tick over in its idle state,
shakily breathing between
the unexpected periods of hypermanic full-tilt and
static inanimate existence.
Un-manned controls at the helm
show evidence of interaction, but
that is all...all
till the next time
a foot hit's the floor and
the world races by...
Till then there will only be
ghosts in this machine...
Causes of anti-american hate part1 : US war crimesSo, before writing longer articles by myself, I think it would be interesting to analyse, debate and talk about a phenomenon that is quite widespread worldwide : anti-americanism and hate toward Americans and USA. This entry is an introduction to the subject.Causes of anti-american hate part1 : US war crimes3 years ago in Personal More Like This
Later, I'll try to write about : "an alternative view about 9/11", "why European identitarians and fascists hate USA", "main clichés about american people and their reasons".
However, as I don't pretend to have a great knowledge, these articles shall be "launchers of debate" and "share of personnal informations" rather than encyclopedical demonstration of sources and knowledge. Afterward, a synthesis of comments, of point of views would be made, and submitted as an entry as well.
To launch debates more easily, after the informative article will be written down a kind of "agressive" question with an extreme kind of anti-american content. That way, the most radicals points of view would be exposed, in a somehow provocative purp
Lady of the StarsThey shine so bright, In the dead of the night.Lady of the Stars3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Their haunting glow, you never quite know,how they remain up in the sky and refrain from falling by.
They hang from invisible strings that cant be seen,
I hang them there with the moon in between.
The sky is black, with bits of light teeming with life.
Like the gleam of my silver, jagged knife.
They all connect like a puzzle that cant be solved, I have watched them grow, change and evolve.
None of them are ever quite the same.
They each bring happiness, they each bring pain.
My job is simple, I live on Mars. I am known only as the lady of the stars.