and I and ends with smiles
as we share secrets that go on for emotional miles
Love is such a powerful emotion and it can withstand time
You are my special treasure and I am yours and
it costs neither of us the valued dollar or dime
We are two halves of a whole and
and I fell deeply in love with it. It's words... It's fine body, it's beautiful illusion that painted a soft colour of a washed out grey. It was dark and yet enticing, it's vibrant smell, it's colourful lair, it's pitiful lines. It felt sorry for me. It gave me a smile, a pretty...
Like i feel like everything is in place but I didn't know such things don't last. I was a believer of happy endings and such things. Like a girl who always wanted to watch Disney princesses dazzled by their prince. But... after the closure, i seemed to fill numb. Except.. i am...
Your mind is clear
Severing your solitude
You hear her
Calling out to you
Lies deep in her eyes
Between her thighs
Absolve the mediocrity
With a pain so deep
Rage becomes need
Your illusions lie...
make you the same as the others.
Sometimes when you fall for a person doesn't make you any stronger.
Sometimes people always say yes even if what lies beneath is a big no.
Sometimes i want to be in the world of future, to never say the phrase I should've known.
Writing.... I'm the quiet/shy type which is probably why I love to write. I express my feelings through it... when no one else wants to hear me I go straight to my journal. I love how I can just escape the world sometimes.
Minutes feel like hours,
Hours feels like days.
When will the time speed up?
Will it ever speed up?
The uncertainty is driving me insane,
I want the seconds to feel like seconds!
The minutes to feel like minutes!
When my eyes are open it's like an unending day,
The dove carries her innocence on her wings clearly seen
The crow is a vile thing but poses as a mysterious thing
The dove is peaking at the seams of her chest want to be set free.
Once free she flies with the crows for they have beautiful wings and shiny...
for - it's the source of my passions, the drug that easily gets me high, the thing that keeps me alive. I am in love with the feeling of being able to even create something with words - something that people will like or not like, though it won't matter because I'm happy. though...
A spinning compass
A shredded map
Your fingertips across my lips
Tiny little slivers
With the shards left from words
That I spoke in reverse
Mixed anger with hurt
And you tasted it first
Open my mouth and the devil comes out
I can't keep up
I can see you there in the distance
Wait for me!
My legs are moving but I seem to be going so slow
Do you hear me calling your name?
The mist is enveloping
I can't see my hands
Your form is disappearing
I think you've gone too far ahead
I am lost
I am alone
the engine idling. His green eyes focused on the screen of his cell.
“It's up to you, baby.” He could hear her soft, southern voice as read the text.
Turning left would take him back to his life before it was too late. Back to the oranges and browns of the Mojave. Right...
Using words to seduce my way in
Into your lungs
On the tip of your tongue
Into your blood
On the shelves of your soul
Where no one else goes
I wish I could find
The way into your mind
You remind me of that perfect line
When the ocean meets the sky...
and cold sweat
Move across my untouched flesh
My bruises are fading
And I'm contemplating
Ways to entangle myself in your web
Cold air in my face and I only taste you
Unfair , but I wait and I crave only you
A sickness of desire
And scenes in my mind
Your touch gets me...
or the loser, the beater? Or the bleeder? Te defeated or the defeader? Are you skeptical or a believer? The follower? Or the leader, are you te shooter or the one being shot? Is your hearth cold? Or is it hot, do you get up? Or do you drop? Do you robb the shop? Or do you work...
cousin of death approaches...
Dim candle lit whispers flicker thoughts upon the walls of endless dusk,
Distorted vibrations resonate across the milky skyline saturated with soft kisses,
Purple ink rain drops flood the canvas constructing emotional tidal waves,
though I'm beautiful
Even though my souls for sale
My dark skin slowly going pale
The rush of my blood going stale
I can rise like a Phoenix
From ashes to freedom
A goddess like Venus
But you'll never see this
I am merely a formality
Abstract from your reality
lusts and heartbreaks...
I cannot take it anymore
I can't fight it anymore
I have no more hope, no more courage, no more faith,
In God, in mother, in Charlie, in the bookcase man
Damn, as I sit
Blood pouring down my body
I think about her, and especially him
Why did you have to...
I think not.
Do you know your soul?
I know not.
For if We did, we would embrace each others choices, no matter what they may be.
Do you know his heart?
I think not.
Do you know his soul?
I know not.
For if We did, we would honor his masculinity and raise him up in times if...
.. And I can say that I FINALLY GOT TO FINISH MY THIRD CHAPTER TONIGHT!!!
Oh gosh... I spent months on that chapter!! I was ready to give up and delete the story, but many readers cheered me up and motivated me to pursue my dreaaaam of writing stories xD
Yeah, I know...
I started writing on a daily basis when I was a freshman in High School. I had a teacher that was also a professor at a well known university. He loved creative writing and journaling. His love of the written word soon was instilled in me. ...
so I can indulge,
The desire of what man calls lust,
Just one touch,
I long for it all,
The whispers calling me fed up with the pain,
No one can insulate my desires because I strive for the most,
Call me sick but that I am not,
Ill I am diseased...
our minds - pillared, upright -
To seek out the stars, to study their light
And learn what it takes to emblaze the night.
Crimson skies cast by fiery moons;
Sensations that will make you swoon.
Our waltz held in its ballroom soon;
Aidenn's Lagoon, Aidenn's Lagoon.
Words convey the opinion of the speaker, actions express their genuine motives. Eyes don't lie, they are the window to the soul, however bleak that view may be. - written by me after a friend turned me in to police.
baguette, on my way home. Hearing a rooster's crow and the aroma of jasmine at dusk.
A sleeping dog's trusting head on my lap. The passionate gestures of flamenco and the taste of hearty wine when I think of her.
My son's small hands confidently holding mine...
and dreamt I was a feather. A little white feather. Not perfect but small twisted and worn. Still beautiful. Delecate and soft like a fragile snowflake. The wind lifted me up in the sky.
The wind pushes me forward twisting and spinning. I get dizzy. I float for miles...
but the hunger
Coursing through my being
Whispering your name
Til my fever breaks
I'd place my palms flat on the wall
That might sustain me
Shallow breaths filled with agony
The ache for you
To come to me
To satiate , end this pain
tears remain were they once laid..
With a future shrouded by uncertainty and doubt
he would look up at thestars and shout,
Spare the one whom I love of this pain
so that she may hear me when I say I love you again.. My heart is her heart, my soul is her soul, my life is her life...
I will admit that I am fearful. I am not ashamed of this and I do not regret it... because fear reminds me of my humanity, reminds me of caution, and spares me of my arrogance...
Fear isn't something to ignore, it is merely another obstacle to embrace and overcome.
People think they know me still
But the me they know
Comes from a pill bottle in the window sill
Pop two in the morning
One at night
Keep the abnormal me
Out of sight
Society is truly screwed
Making me take pills to be okay
But I can’t be me
For even a day
Pour salt in the wounds
That still bleed for you
Forget her it's better I don't know the truth
I don't want you
I don't need you
Yes I do
Tell me you're sorry you broke my heart
For the pieces of me you tore apart
Your blind drunk and venomous work of art
they see me as shy, dumb and invisible. But that's not me, to be honest no one really knows who I am, people think they know what I am thinking and what I would do in most situations, and most of the time they are wrong. I'm at that horible age when your not sure what the future...
I am working on a couple of novels, they come from the brain and require discipline. I write erotica which id born out of passion and comes from your soul. But poetry comes from the heart and is born out of pain and despair. You will seldom meet a happy poet. Especially right...
Date a girl who writes.
Date a girl who may never wear completely clean clothes, because of coffee stains and ink spills. She’ll have many problems with her closet space, and her laptop is never boring because there are so many words, so many worlds that she’s cluttered...