You fell silent
I grew angry
You grew quiet
I was as a child - immature, sincere
While you were polite, tactful, yet clear
You were elegance
I - unrequited romance
Your refusal softly spoken, gentle, eloquent
Your reasoning sound; profound, and reverent
I despised how much it made me want you more
Every phrase you spoke struck to innermost core
Your delicacy another beauty I could not attain
My severe and graceless tongue knew not refrain
Yet not a single blow could bring you down
Every spoken word you heard;
Yet were deaf to the sound
Forgiven without the means of an apology
A look you gave me revealing only heartfelt sympathy
'Sorry' was the utterance you chose
A poignant pull at a soul sorrowful
Strengthless; I mustered nothing save fallen tears
Broken into two in a moment's manifestation of deepest fear
Yet with all I'd spoken in fury so cold
I could never detract from the light of your warmth
I fled the scene in a panic of most ferv
my mind revels in antiquity,
the shadows of tomorrow.
showing shaded silhouettes
of the future,
while phantoms paint pasts.
parasol the sun.
eclipse of what was,
sprinkling flashes of dust
and what could be.
but what could've been
is nothing but a memory.
and these fading reflections
are not your grandmother's antiques.
And how can this be joy?
Those words are so inadequate
The feelings just can't be described
The warmth I know within my heart
The way my soul is filled
The thorough ache when we're apart
Yet how with one touch trembles fast turn stilled
What does it feel like to be with you?
How could I even say?
It's not as though I wouldn't ever want to
But every phrase I speak just sounds cliche
And though I try my best to show you through actions
There's only so much that a mortal can do
The grandest gestures could never convey even a fraction
Of this immeasurable love that I have... for you
the sky is their pet
and the gods lose change
as the powers that be fall
like the weather to loose change
doesn’t occur unless hell rains
down from the depths of heaven.
which is why we’re run by angels
betraying the kingdom
and there is honor amongst crooks,
loyalty amongst the reign.
precipitation sweating out clouds
like alleged truths under a heat lamp.
the sun is burning like the judaean desert,
transverse among slithering serpents
horny and horned, suck and stab,
this is oral and penetrative.
word of mouth stabbing your ears,
like above and static thought
with the light bulb playing a crown.
temptations now on repeat like a chorus,
sung like the gospel,
and the hymns to the ears of most
sound like good music
and they rock a fella now.
rock the bass like stones
to the base of your neck
and let mortal monarchies
pelt propaganda portraits
like picasso brush strokes.
i wonder what the beyond say
to a swift and fear
"Oh? What makes you say that?" he asked her, concernedly.
"Well... because... I'm so quiet. In all our time together I've said and done very little. What could you like about me, save the fact that I am quiet—which is merely the concealment of one's self. No... I don't expect you like me very much at all," she finished, softly, her eyes fallen away.
"Yes, I like that you are quiet," he told her, smiling amusedly. "But that aspect of your personality says a great deal more about you than you give it credit." He took her hand in his and came closer, bidding her to look up at him. She did. "You say little because there is little you want to say, and you act little because there is little that needs to be done. When you are quiet, you are not merely silent... you are deep in thought or listening intently to those around you whenever they speak... even if everythin
yesterday, yes today,
yes yesterday, yes to the day,
yes always, yes to all ways.
that was the intro.
meet the(e) introduction,
induction into my psyche,
psych me and read me
it was nice to me(e)t you
yesterday, yes today
my two (e)y(e)s s(ee)
i wondered what it was
you (tri)ed to say
and it stayed too
till the (four)th day.
fifty, fifty, (fifth) day,
one hundred and fifth day,
i met you 104 days ago,
divide by 4 to get twenty(six).
and as each week passes,
on the (seven)th day,
we’re severing step ins
to stop on old steps
we already walked along
and along the long walk away
we realized all along that
my yes today, was yesterday
my yes to the day, was yes yesterday
my yes to all ways. is not always.
He called her name again, softly, sweetly this time... the urgency evident in his tone at her departure, now quite gone. She was cornered.
She did her best to keep her back to him, not wanting him to see the tears that we
Pairings: Heba X Atem, Yami x Yugi, Seth x Jono, Ryou x Bakura
Anzu & Vivian Bashing.
The slaves cart road smoothly over the sands of the desert, the path worn almost rocky by years of constant travel.
Heba woke as one such jolt bumped his head into the side of the wooden wagon. He sat up with a small gasp of pain, in the darkness he tried to figure out where he was. The closely packed bodies of the other slaves and the capturing grip of iron shackles around his wrists reminded him where he was.
Heba looked around half sad and half angry that this had happened. He tugged at his bindings yet again, wincing when the metal rubbed his sore wrists; he had tried to escape so many times. But even if he got loose … he couldn't leave.
A pale hand covered his wrist. Heba jumped slightly and looked at the hand's owner. Matching amethyst eyes looked back at him worriedly, sadly and with a hopeless resignation. "Heba, don't," the youth pleaded softly, le
How could we cope when it spins in reverse?
Even if our rotting trees just want to face the ground,
Red leaves could see green after the curse.
If stolen seeds can arise from the dirt,
You can see the sun even at your worst.
So move your head higher, see the passing town
Because up above is where you'll find your crown.
Silence reigned for some long moments, and he could see her fighting the tears that were brimming in her eyes, threatening to spill over as she attempted to arrange her abstract thoughts on the troubling matter into something more coherent. Part of him wanted to prevent her, knowing it caused her pain. He wanted to tell her to forget it and offer her something else more cheerful to ponder... but at the same time he knew how one's own thoughts could prey upon a person 'til they got lost in a confusing twist of dark emotion; so helpless, desolate, and unable to muster the gentle reassurance and quiet reason required to dispel the nightmare. If in fact at all possible, he wanted t
Pairings: Heba x Atem, Yami x Yugi, Seth x Jono, Ryou x Bakura
Anzu & Vivian Bashing
The palace garden was lush with green, there were endless flowers and the trees offered welcomed shade. There were ponds full of fish and lilies and that was also an endless supply, no matter what the garden was green, and healthy.
In the palace garden, specifically the private garden, a teenage boy slept next to a tree. He had tri-colour hair, black at the base, red outline, and yellow lightening streaks with yellow bangs framing his face. He was lean, with some muscles and sharp features. He was pale skin unlike those around here, and behind his close eyes was amazing crimson. He turned onto his side and got comfortable again, he never noticed the two people behind the tree watching him nap.
"Okay Mana, do you have the bucket?" asked a teen who look exactly like the sleeping boy, but had tan skin instead.
The girl next to him nodded. She had tan skin like him, br
And so I sat down to write today,
But could find in me no words to say.
Conditional must be my wordly music,
Dependent upon the subtle shifts mood.
Each emotion contributing to the work as a whole.
For as a writer, I must always consider who I am.
Great or small, strong or weak, talented or not,
Having myself, not in perspective is the surest way to fail.
Inspiration, however, does not wait for personal assurance.
Knowing this, I must keep myself always in check;
Just restrained enough to keep a level of predictability.
Laying this aside is nothing but folly,
Many before me have tried,
Not realizing the effects of their apathy.
Of course in time they came to see the truth.
Perspective you see is the basis of all poetry.
Quintessentially, it is perspective, not words that spawns poetry.
Recognition of this is the beginning of greatness.
Simply writing who you are in various forms
Triggers the spark of genius within you.
Unfortunately this is a principle that cannot b
"Dearest," he interrupted her, gently. "It's not a question of what qualities you possess or lack. I assure you I do like you. I think you're one of the most charming, amiable young ladies I have ever had the good fortune to become acquainted with but... But you see the issue lies entirely with me. I couldn't give up my lifestyle - not for anyone. I am happy just as I am."
"But don't ever feel lonely?" Angelica implored him, an urgency seeping into her tone. "Don't you ever come home to an empty apartment and just— I mean I know you have friends but I thought—"
He took her hand into his. "Yes," he told her, softly. "Yes, I won't deceive you, I do feel that at times. But don't you see? It's not like acquiring a possession where you can just go on living your life as you did before and only ever pay any mind to it when it suits you. Yes, I have an empty
Words, words, words, words, these words
Only one can hope that we’ll never run out of these words,
Really, I’ll probably-- eventually run out of these words,
Despite the fact that there are millions of these words,
So…I ask….that you finish me when I finally run out of…these.....
Her words rung out repeatedly inside his mind. How they angered him. He had become so enraged by her indignant speech that he had stood up from the breakfast table, grabbed his coat and hat and walked right out the front door without another word. Had he stayed he surely would've said something terribly ungentlemanly, and that would've hardly been a suitable way for a man to behave toward a lady... much less the lady who was his wife.
But why shouldn't I have said it?! He thought fuming, having stopped just long enough for a carriage to pass so he could make his way across the street. How could she speak to him like that?! He had done nothing wrong! He had had every right to fire that manservant. The only reason he had allowed him to be employed
"Well then," he began, softly. "I shall endeavor to expect very little of you, and make no attempts to conceal my wholehearted delight when your every word.. expression.. and deed... quite unexpectedly pleases me."
She warbled a gentle laugh through her teary eyes and returned his smile; though she felt perhaps mirrored was the truer way of saying it. For it seemed that ever since the day she'd first met him her every expression of joy was merely a reflection of the kindness he so frequently bestowed upon her. How could anyone help but respond to him with anything save the greatest respect... gratitude... and love that insuppressibly rose up within the hearts of all those presence he graced?
"My child.." he spoke, breaking her reverie. "You seem... rather distracted lately. Is anything the matter?"
"Matter?" Her eyes widened slightly and a flut
let me elaborate -- sure you get the ideas from your
and spin wordy sketches in between moments
but the community bathrooms and living
quarters that you share with another person
leave much to be desired
and i desire loneliness
because i have no excuse to be
alone (which they perceive to be disastrous
to our health), so i recede into myself
which is disastrous to my health
Eyes, so deep and thoughtful
Heart, so warm yet guarded
Hands, so gentle yet firm
Memories, so lovely yet painful
He thinks he's the only one
The only one who feels lost
Lost within the tides of emotion
Emotions that seek to drown me
Drown me in nostalgia
I think he knows
Knows my weakness
My weakness when it comes to him
Him, with his lips, eyes and hands
Hands that I miss against me
Truth, so relieving yet damning
Pain, so pure and too much
Too much to think about
Think about burying the thoughts
Thoughts that remind me of him
My one doesn't know
Doesn't know what I'm thinking
Thinking about these lost ones
Lost ones who gave me up
Or who I gave up
This distinction makes little difference to my heart
My treacherous heart that loves
Loves any who has held it no matter what
No matter how long its been since we said goodbye
Goodbye to him and I, to our love
Head, so full of thoughts and memories
Heart, so stuffed with those I've claimed
Skin, so eager for touc
They bend and change at will.
They can go topsy-turvy,
Leading you on a winding wild goose chase.
Or they can hang limp.
Like a broken branch.
Words are malleable.
They can be seductive. Threatening.
Soothing or subtle.
Words have to be won. Prised and
Teased from a treasure trove of eloquence.
Is an occupational necessity.
You do not choose the words.
More, they choose the hand.
They whisper out of sight,
Hovering at the tips of your fingers.
They stomp into your dreams.
Kick you from your bed.
And demand to be immortalized.
For words are fleeting.
Words feed off the ink of a pen,
Dance on the lead of a pencil,
And frolic on the page
Of a musty old book,
Yellowed with age.
This is the life for words.
The mind is their prison.
This is where words are born,
But also the place to die.
Words burst into existence and
Flicker to nothing in a second.
Some escape to the lips to drop
A moment of life.
Just a moment.
The lucky few make it to the page.