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About Literature / Artist stephFemale/United States Group :iconlegitlit: LegitLit
 
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Literature
Throw me out to sea
All I can remember thinking is "how did we end up here?" as I stared up at the too bright sky, letting the sun imprint itself into my vision, in the hopes that I'd be just blind enough to not have to see the look on your face when I finally got up the courage to tilt my eyes from the sky back to yours.
It felt like it had been decades since we met on this beach. Honestly, it felt like it had been centuries. I could barely remember what you smile first looked like, but I know it was so much bigger than it is now. The only thing I have left is the smell of laundry detergent on your fade t-shirts and the aftertaste of summer on your skin. I know that a love story is always so much better than reality, and I know that the beginning will always outshine the ending, but I thought I'd be able to handle things better than this.
I was blinking sun shaped dots out of my eyes, but I could still see the look of dismay on your face. Or bewilderment or disgust or maybe it was just confusion. I didn'
:iconpaperheartsyndrome:paperheartsyndrome
:iconpaperheartsyndrome:paperheartsyndrome 14 5
Literature
the last magic I believe in
It's been years and I'm still here. Recycling the same sentences. Stuck in the same words. Buried in a past that doesn't quite belong to me anymore. It's funny how with enough distance nothing ever looks real anymore. It's like the way I can stand four miles from the lakefront and can still see the horizon. Clashing blues and greens. A straight line of water against an even straighter line of sky. And that's it. It's everything and it's nothing and for a little while I can pretend I'm somewhere else. Somewhere new. That I can see an entire ocean sprawled out in front of me, instead of the dirty familiar waters of Lake Michigan. I've grown up here and I've grown apart from here, but I'm stuck at the top of the hill on the corner of the street that my sister lives on and I just want to run and run and run and never look back, but that's not all there is. That's not all that's left.
It's so much bigger than that so I trace the familiar roads back to my home and I sit in my living room and
:iconpaperheartsyndrome:paperheartsyndrome
:iconpaperheartsyndrome:paperheartsyndrome 40 6
Literature
an exercise in giving up
I don’t know what I’m doing in this place.
My bones ache to take me away – to take me anywhere but here. But my heart remembers this place and its beat is racing, pumping blood into the far corners of my body, making my limbs too heavy to move. But I want to leave so badly, with every part of my being, but the one. My heart still belongs here…even after all these years.
I don’t remember the last time I saw your face.
But I can tell you that I still hear your voice in my dreams. In the deepest of sleeps, you’re still alive inside of me, deep within the folds of my heart, the dark spaces of my imagination. You’re alive there, even though I know nothing of where you are in reality. I know nothing of you anymore. Maybe that’s for the better. Maybe. Maybe.
I can’t recall the first time that I heard time will make it better.
But I do know that my mom repeats it to me every Saturday when I go to visit her in that old house that’s fu
:iconpaperheartsyndrome:paperheartsyndrome
:iconpaperheartsyndrome:paperheartsyndrome 46 19
Birds on a Wire - Vinyl Record Painting by paperheartsyndrome Birds on a Wire - Vinyl Record Painting :iconpaperheartsyndrome:paperheartsyndrome 26 2 Vinyl Record Painting - Orange and Purple Tree by paperheartsyndrome Vinyl Record Painting - Orange and Purple Tree :iconpaperheartsyndrome:paperheartsyndrome 10 0 vinyl record painting - birds on a wire by paperheartsyndrome vinyl record painting - birds on a wire :iconpaperheartsyndrome:paperheartsyndrome 8 0 Vinyl Record Painting - Blue and Green Tree by paperheartsyndrome Vinyl Record Painting - Blue and Green Tree :iconpaperheartsyndrome:paperheartsyndrome 9 2 VInyl Record Painting - Copper and Red by paperheartsyndrome VInyl Record Painting - Copper and Red :iconpaperheartsyndrome:paperheartsyndrome 5 1 Vinyl Record Painting! by paperheartsyndrome Vinyl Record Painting! :iconpaperheartsyndrome:paperheartsyndrome 6 2
Literature
When I think about you, I remember it all wrong.
When I think of that first day, I will always remember the air as being too warm, and your clothes being wrinkled, your hair a complete mess. I remember how your nerves had your every sentence starting with “uhm” and how I hated indecisiveness and you couldn’t make up your mind, and I remember thinking I could do better without you. Now, I know that first impressions aren’t quite as important as they tell you every time you open that front door with your mismatched socks and complimentary sarcasm, armed with a crooked smile and bad grammar. Because if that were true, I would have said hello and goodbye in the same sentence. Hell, if that were true I never would have loved you.
It was September before you calmed down enough to look me in the eye when you were talking. My friends kept asking me why I wasting my time with you, but I knew there was something special hidden behind all your short sentences, wrapped inside the bundle of nerves that created you, that he
:iconpaperheartsyndrome:paperheartsyndrome
:iconpaperheartsyndrome:paperheartsyndrome 55 4
Literature
because love is a lesson in trial and error
I wish I had the words to tell you what I mean. I used to store sentences between my breaths – things that I couldn’t say at the moment, but wanted to remember. Now I can barely string together enough nouns and verbs to make you understand exactly what you mean to me. And I’m afraid.
I’m afraid that if I can’t get it together fast enough I’ll lose you. It’s like you're water slipping through my fingers and I’m not quick enough to chase you through the currents. I know enough to know that you’re wild and free in a way that I’ll never be and maybe I’m jealous of that. Or maybe I’m scared. Maybe I know that if I was somehow better or different that I’d have you in a way that no one else has even gotten you, and some days, I think I’ve made it. Some days, I’m sure that I don’t have to be afraid anymore, but then it’s three in the morning and I’m tossing and turning from the waves you
:iconpaperheartsyndrome:paperheartsyndrome
:iconpaperheartsyndrome:paperheartsyndrome 65 28
Literature
a lifetime of storms just to make things matter
It never rains like this where I’m from. It’s all or nothing there. Where the sky will split open for days, swallowing the continents, putting oceans where they used to rest. There, we were always just barely afloat, and I never learned how to swim.
Here, I feel like I can still breathe between the raindrops and I sit out on our back patio and let the water soak into my skin and wash away all my sins. I know I’m not who I thought I’d be five years ago, but it’s not enough just to wish you could change, sometimes you just have to accept the way things are. Except who you’ve become. Where you’ve come from.
It was the day after my twentieth birthday when I learned that my heart would skip beats when I saw his face. My pulse would start and stop and disappear. I was fading and sometimes, he would make my outlines clear again, bring back the contours and all my shades and shadows. Small smiles would be awarded, unfamiliar to my face. He was my angel
:iconpaperheartsyndrome:paperheartsyndrome
:iconpaperheartsyndrome:paperheartsyndrome 37 19
Literature
maybe you never belonged to me
I can still feel the weight of your lips on the curve of my collarbone. Sometimes, it feels paralyzing, crushing, absolute. Sometimes, it feels like home. Like everything.
I once heard that when you can't fall asleep it means you're awake in someone else's dream. I wonder which one of us was dreaming that night, because everything was too quiet, too easy, too perfect. You used to fall asleep next to me, your body curled against mine. It's a warmth that's not easy to forget. A hidden smile tucked into pillows and sheets. It's easy to think these things will last forever when you're tangled up together. For me, the strings of my life will always be tangled up in yours. Forever tied to you. No matter hard they attempt to fray. To fall apart. To sever.
--
It's snowing for the first time this year. Soft and gentle, glittering in the sunlight, falling in large flakes, easy and quiet nothing at all like the storm that rages inside of me, turning up the corners of my heart, throwing shrapnel
:iconpaperheartsyndrome:paperheartsyndrome
:iconpaperheartsyndrome:paperheartsyndrome 100 43
Literature
i'm not your symphony but i'm orchestrated anyways
it's not easy to explain --
but i'm a rushed symphony of heartbeats, quick breaths and hiccups. i'm not made of skin and bones, but a complicated sentence structure and thoughts that i spew out before i even finish them.
i'm messy in all the wrong ways.
and i'm not right in any of the ways that matter. but still you're always here, picking me up when i fall, kissing me goodnight, making a life with me one day at a time. and you haven't gone yet but i'm always moving so how long can you stay. how long can i expect it. how long is too long when you're living and loving and breathing and hell, if i can't stay still i'll mess this up for sure. i just need a minute, to think, to stop, to be. so i can be yours forever.
all i know is that i'm a constant frenzy -- a kaleidoscope of words and ideas and minutes and clumsy steps and i don't know what i'm doing, but i'm always shifting and moving and growing and going and going
and going and
going --
until i'm standing still again.
no one can stop
:iconpaperheartsyndrome:paperheartsyndrome
:iconpaperheartsyndrome:paperheartsyndrome 54 8
Literature
I'll never tell you -- you already know.
I remember in the beginning
there was just you and me
and heartbeats--
small intervals where the air would leap from my chest,
saying you leave me breathless will always be an understatement.
I wanted to kiss you before
I even knew you or knew the real you
but your untied purple chucks
had me even before your hello--
months later I realized that meant to be's aren't always
as silly as they used to be.
I've fallen in love with how
the palms of our hands match
the planes of our souls and
every time I loop my fingers
between yours we fall deeper--
If there was ever a time I should explain myself,
it's be right now, but I think you know--
I mean you should know--
How irreversibly far I've fallen
for you.
:iconpaperheartsyndrome:paperheartsyndrome
:iconpaperheartsyndrome:paperheartsyndrome 58 16
Literature
there's nothing that feels quite like this.
Maybe the problem is that I don't know what a love story should sound like. I haven't figured out what order I should put the words in to make it read just right. I do, however, know what it feels like, but pushing around nouns and adjectives just to make it grow is the hardest thing I'll ever do. And it's true that I've tried it before and maybe I succeeded once, but since then I've learned the way real love washes through veins, and rumbles through the shifting and settling of bones until it changes you completely in a way that is absolutely unyielding. Perfect. Simple. It's not angry, or jealous, it doesn't hurt. It isn't like before. So now words don't come so easy, since I'm not sure which ones will cheapening the moments, the feelings, you.
And god, I could never do that to you, since the only thing I know with completely certainty is that you are the only thing that saves me. That moves me. That completes me. Without you, I'd be less than nothing. Alone. Forgotten. It's e
:iconpaperheartsyndrome:paperheartsyndrome
:iconpaperheartsyndrome:paperheartsyndrome 57 17
these are my words and they are everything to me. please don't use them without my permission.

Random Favourites

Literature
Jane's Promises
Jane is the whisperlie of a new beginning
the fake optimism of a temporary break in the clouds.
she’s the hope for the rain to wishwishwish away,
when you know the clouds are here to stay.
Jane is magic at convincing you that what she says is true.
she’s an expert at playing with hearts.
she’s professionally perfect at telling you you’re doing [it] all right
while she’s pulling the strings to bring you down.
[she’s the one that’s bringing you down.]
Jane will be there when you need her [if she wants to]
and she’ll whisper prettynothings in your ear, [if you want her to]
but she’ll nickel and dime you out of your reason for living
and leave you with nothing. [a thief, a liar]
Jane swears she’ll be there to stay, but the sun
can’t always shine and the clouds are coming in,
and all it takes is a breath to turn her into a stormy day.
[or someone else’s whispers on her neck]
Jane’s lost herself in the street—she
:iconsimplysamwise:simplysamwise
:iconsimplysamwise:simplysamwise 5 31
Literature
letters to no one
dear sea,
i fell in love with this boy, once. his eyes were the same color as yours, and his voice should have been recorded and played in seashells, it was so beautiful and soft. i was so deeply in love with him, i drowned. it was dark, and sort of warm, but more than that, it was beautiful. when the seaweed wrapped around my wrists, it was like his fingers when he grabbed my hands together in one hand and told me he loved me. i was seeing stars, and they were in his sad, lonely eyes.
-
dear trees,
there was a boy, and he smelled like you. he smelled like beauty and sadness and being alone in your attic, with old boxes and shoes and a giant mirror. no one is lonelier than him. he is like a puzzle piece that fits nowhere, the star without a constellation. but he was more beautiful, because he didn't fit in. i loved him with all my heart, but it wasn't enough to save him.
-
dear sky,
you know that feeling where you go too high, and you stop being able to breathe very well? that was how
:iconL-forever:L-forever
:iconl-forever:L-forever 40 42
Literature
some kind of bone cancer
"michele, what are you doing?"
"I'm painting a picture of what I think my insides look like."
"and what do you think?"
"I think my organs are all jumbled into one place. what do you think?"
"I think you're in my bloodstream, because when I get out of bed and stand up straight, I can feel you in my arms as the blood travels down. I can feel you falling inside my blood. I can feel you falling."
"I think you're in my marrow, because you picked up your clothes off my floor and drove east, and lately I’ve been feeling so far away from my own bones."
-
"michele, you used to be cool. what happened to you?"
"I started thinking too much and listening to good music. the air became so heavy, and thoughts started whispering themselves into my ears and tugging on my shirts, and I started bleeding so loud. I woke up with a ghost between my teeth, and I realized you were gone."
"you need to stop living in the past. you need to grow up."
"to be honest, I think I just want to wake up and actually
:iconAwasteof-paint:Awasteof-paint
:iconawasteof-paint:Awasteof-paint 114 108
Literature
i dont understand
have you ever woken up and not thought anything at all?
-
somtimes i find myself thinking that 'it'd be fun to go and stand out in the rain' so i do. but once i'm out there i find myself thinking, 'wouldn't it be invigorating to take off my clothes' so i do. but once i've done that, i find myself thinking 'wouldn't it be beautiful to climb on the rooftop', so i do. and then once i'm standing there, i find myself thinking, 'wouldn't it be magical to fall in love' and so i try. i try and try and try but i can't. and so there i am, standing naked on my rooftop in the rain trying to fall in love.
-
sometimes i find myself imagining that all we are made of is the same thing that makes us always face the same way in the shower. i think sometimes we're made of the things that tell our brain to go outside, to run. i think we're made of the same thing that makes us left or right handed, and the same thing that allows some people to kick a ball and others to not be able to. but then i realise, w
:iconBlackMagicBoy:BlackMagicBoy
:iconblackmagicboy:BlackMagicBoy 120 195
Newspaper-ized by stardixa Newspaper-ized :iconstardixa:stardixa 35 13 dirty and left out. by atinyghost dirty and left out. :iconatinyghost:atinyghost 38 16
Literature
Save The Whales
"You know what?"
"No, what?"
"We should never fall in love."
"Huh? Why?"
"Well, it's simple, really."
"Explain it to me, then."
"We're opposites, you and me. You're the sun, I'm the moon. You are day, I am night. You're warm and you beat with the vitality of life. I'm pretty chilly and I beat my fists against the mirror for showing me reality instead of dreams."
"I still don't quite understand."
"I am a dreamer, and you are a dream."
"Thanks, I guess."
"No, listen--you're like the people who say 'save the whales'. You want to save the world, you want to do some good. You want to make a change, make a difference. And me... well, I'm the whale. I can't do anything except wait for you to finally save me."
"I'll save you. I don't mind."
"I'll never thank you. I'm a whale; I can't talk."
"I don't care. I'll save you anyway. And you're wrong, you know."
"About what?"
"I'm not quite what you make me out to be. I laugh so I won't cry, yet that doesn't save me when I'm alone. I try to save the
:iconGir-Gir:Gir-Gir
:icongir-gir:Gir-Gir 1,886 423
i keep them in a jar. by Camiloo i keep them in a jar. :iconcamiloo:Camiloo 2,105 218
Journal
Daily Literature Deviations - September 16, 2009
Daily Lit Deviations for September 16th, 2009
We are proud to feature today's Daily Literature Deviations!
Please show your support by :+fav:ing this News Article
Don't hesitate to comment or :+fav: the artists for their hard work!
Poetry
Featured by Pickled-Poppy

"ecdemomania" by paperheartsyndrome
In this piece paperheartsyndrome shows off her
skill of using tiny details to get you really
emotionally involved with her characters and their
storyline within the poem. It's a wonderful piece.
Featured by KneelingGlory

"you and your crazy schemes" by tigereverskin
Steady flow and hot alliteration make this piece stand
out in a gallery filled with interesting odds and ends.
Prose
Featured by i-W-i-s-h

"Perfection" by cat102
"What Emily wants, Emily gets."
Featured by: choirsoftheheavens

"Recall" by :devsrs
:iconDailyLitDeviations:DailyLitDeviations
:icondailylitdeviations:DailyLitDeviations 68 4
Literature
vicarious lust beyond page 287
Cassie was an artist.  With charcoal pastels, she painted masterpieces on last year’s newspapers; every Sunday night she watched film noir cartoons on her vintage television; every Monday morning, she stressed over the unfinished projects due that day.  She found disgrace in beauty and believed color was only for the shallow.  When it rained, she'd stare at the nimbus clouds and trace her grey sunset in the gloomy sky.  Rain was her muse, her inspiration, her best friend.  And melancholy weather was her lover.  To settle her depression, she went to the library; she closed her eyes, point her finger, and let her heart pick her new favorite book.  But when she landed on a book titled Ryan, with a picture of an intriguingly handsome young boy, she knew it was perfect.
--
Ryan was a poet.  With water-soluble imagery, he refracted lexical spectrums in kaleidoscope dictionaries.  He believed
:iconChloroformBoy:ChloroformBoy
:iconchloroformboy:ChloroformBoy 121 286
Literature
the man who loves the bottle
being in love with you is like walking in chest-deep water. it's like my veins are full of marbles. it's like the air sacs in my lungs are made of raindrops. it's like drowning in an elevator, always going up with a constant sinking feeling. it's like my spinal cord is a live wire and i'm sitting in a porcelain bathtub, convulsing in those lying puddles whispering down the drain.
i've noticed that, when it rains at night and you watch the rain drops fall and hit the puddles, the light reflecting off the splash looks like the night sky, the stars dancing on blacktop, wishing on themselves. they're three times less reliable and twice as twinkly, like those old telegraph cables, stretching long-distance.
i've been drowning in the raindrops spangling your eyelashes, with your eyes like slabs of concrete in the city. they used to be blue, but they haven't sparkled since the rain started and we haven't seen the sun in days. it's like alaska, only it's a flat toneless gray sky, no wavering no
:iconL-forever:L-forever
:iconl-forever:L-forever 26 28
fireflies by julkusiowa fireflies :iconjulkusiowa:julkusiowa 2,534 188
Literature
cotton-heart suicide
her name was lily and she told me that she spent her nights sewing new hearts for herself.
she told me that she made them out of silk and cotton. she said that they were beautiful reds and deep scarlets, sewn together with thin white thread.
every night, hunched over her sewing machine, she would recreate her heart, hoping that one day she'd make one that would beat.
-
she told me that she kept butterflies on necklaces because she was too afraid that they would fly away. she'd keep them on silver chains around her neck; dangling close to her heart.
she said that if she could, she would tie them to her hips or nail their colours to her wall.
when i asked her why she didn't want them to fly away, she said that they reminded her of me.
that on her necklaces, their paper-thin wings beat.
that when she held them close to her cotton-hearts, she could feel something;
something beautiful.
-
she tells me one afternoon on the way home with sad eyes, that she loves me. she tells me to never, ever
:iconrachel-rhapsody:rachel-rhapsody
:iconrachel-rhapsody:rachel-rhapsody 224 149
poiuy by SilentDistractions poiuy :iconsilentdistractions:SilentDistractions 110 9

Activity


"After all these years, I still haven't grown up. 

The sky is angry in these too early hours of the morning. The clouds are rolling across the sky, quick and fierce, as if they are running away from something. Maybe they're trying to get away from me. I'm still a natural disaster in a way I shouldn't be. I'm still wind blown, indecisive, messy, a spark if lightning on a perfect day. I'm still all the things I should no longer be by now. I had such high expectations. After awhile, you learn that you can let anyone down -- even yourself."

I wish I wrote like I used to. That may be one of my biggest regrets at the moment. Hoping to change it.

I miss this. How have all you been? I've had an insanely awesome year -- bought a house, adopted the best dog ever, and married the love of my life!

deviantID

paperheartsyndrome
steph
Artist | Literature
United States
i'm extraordinarily ordinary.

Comments


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:iconlostprophetxtian:
lostprophetxtian Featured By Owner Jul 13, 2015   General Artist
happy birthday
Reply
:iconsammur-amat:
Sammur-amat Featured By Owner Jan 9, 2015   General Artist
hello there, lovely person! :huggle:
this is to inform you that i have made use of one of the titles of your poetry in my title poem over here: fav.me/d8d65gn :love:
i hope that this is alright with you, pray that you enjoy the read, and thank you for your inspirational artistry! :eager: <3
Reply
:iconangryangel57:
angryangel57 Featured By Owner Dec 20, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
<3
Reply
:iconmysocksrock:
MySocksRock Featured By Owner Jul 13, 2014
Have a wonderful Birthday!!!
Reply
:icontakemetoverona:
takemetoverona Featured By Owner Jul 13, 2014  Student Writer
Happy Birthday! :D
Reply
:iconangryangel57:
angryangel57 Featured By Owner Jul 11, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Your words are amazing <3
Reply
:iconconspiritorialkitten:
I adore all of the visual poetry and set-ups you do. <3 
Reply
:icontakemetoverona:
takemetoverona Featured By Owner Dec 2, 2013  Student Writer
Your visual poetry is absolutely beautiful- please keep writing!
Reply
(1 Reply)
:icondystopiandino:
dystopiandino Featured By Owner Nov 9, 2013
Oh my goodness. Your words are incredible. Thank you so much for sharing them!
Reply
:iconwak0zak0:
wak0zak0 Featured By Owner Sep 9, 2013
I love your writing. It strikes a certain spot in me every time. It's like you say what I'm already feeling, and what i wish i could write. i feel like I have a psychological need to read your writings. How do you cope with some of the things you go through or feel?

Reply
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