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100ThemesChallenge - DarkDoesn't everything seem more real in black and white photos? That's because the world's losing it's colour.
100ThemesChallenge - LoveDespite what people may think, not all guys wants a stick thin barbie doll with a fake smile and dull eyes. I like girls who curve. Girls who when you put your arms around her, feel like they fit perfectly against your chest, not like you're hugging a stick. Homely girls. The ones that wear soft cotton shirts and sweaters, and have a warm smile and eyes you can get lost in. The ones that walk around with a smudge of flour or toothpaste or paint on their shirt all day because they haven't noticed or just don't care. The ones whose apple-vanilla smell you could recognise from across the room, but still never becomes mundane. The ones who, when you curl up with her, no matter where you may be, it feels like Home.
Solitude With Falling LeavesI'm terrified to stop writing, because when I do I'll have to think about all the things that are slowly killing me.
The YouthMy youth was found in disgusting apartments and palest blue ribbon. Kissing girls that were years older than myself, lying about my age and passing out on the bathroom floor. I started smoking, I started lying, things were going great. I felt better than I ever had, line after line, bed after bed, I never did too much and was on top of my game, always one step ahead of even myself. But soon there would be nothing new to do. Everyone would know my name, my sins and who I slept with.
Oh the price of being young.
The Way I Live NowToday I got a haircut. I bought a new shirt, I scraped the mud off my best shoes. The good night's sleep erased dark circles from my under eyes, and for the first time in years my skin is clear, healthy rather than the sallow grey of a drug addict. My mouth stretched back in the pretence of a smile that was almost real. I've put on weight - fat now fills the gaps between my ribs and my face is no longer dominated by hollow circles for cheeks.
So yes, I may still have that scar through my eyebrow, and my joy still doesn't quite reach my eyes. And my knuckles are still grazed from that fight, and my eyes are still that deep grey of grief, and it still hurts for you to kiss lips through which lies slip so easily, but I'm getting better. I'm learning to want to be so much more for you. Have faith in me for just a little while longer, and I swear I will get this one thing right amidst all my sins. You deserve so much better, but if you want me, then you will have the best me I can find.
And Tonight My Prayer Was XIIIAnd tonight my prayer was:
You once asked me: "Why do you look to the ground when you walk?"
"So I can see where I am treading." I said. "Why do you look to the sky?" I, equally bemused.
With a smile you reply "So I can see where I'm going."
And Tonight My Prayer Was XAnd tonight my prayer was:
So today the brightest green of new buds met the clearest blue of the sky. And the blue met the yellow of a freshly picked daisy, which brought with it the clearest white of newly fallen snow. With them travelled the soft pink of a child's cheek, blended with the black of a starless night and the orange of this summer's brightest midday sun. On the road the purple of heather ran alongside as dog to his master. And as they moved on together, they left our world the bleakest grey.
Only then did we notice we'd chased all the colours away.
The MothsAll the broken people sway as one
To the pulse of the music.
They hover in the neon light like
Moths attracted to a fluorescent flame,
Gulping down vodka as though it's sugar water.
And it burns
But not as much as the searing self-hatred.
Their minds spin and soar above reality
Until they laugh and buzz and scream
With the euphoria of sweet freedom
Too soon their wings are ripped off,
Leaving them with vague memories
Of superficial happiness and stains on their
Pretty white dresses.
The Child WatchesThe sun in my eyes felt like someone was kicking me in the jaw. I was so high I thought my eyes would fall out. Standing shaky on the thinning grass, I realized I had to catch the train home. I ran 5 blocks and got there just as the operator was locking the front compartment. Resting up on the 701, with the sterile light slipping beneath my eyelids. Puerile breathing in front of me. I open my eyes and am being stared at. Eye contact with a child is always easier than eye contact with an adult. Adults always look away quickly, embarrassed of their booming thoughts, convictions, judgments. Children stare straight at you and lay it all out on the table.
"You look tired."
"I know," I said
Dishwater EyesI have been thinking of new ways I can kill the lights,
swimmingly musing the flicker switches in the back of your head
like paying the bills,
and doing the dishes as our children slumber above.
The dishwater is cold, lapping around my heels as I dive
inside your irises and try to figure the prices
of your thoughts;
only to get frustrated with your laziness statistic.
I think I floundered, flapped and drowned;
enveloped in your weariness as I paddled for the shore
of your embrace,
and came up gasping for relief.
The kitchen sink was rusted and overused
from too many table-side taunts,
picking away at my membrane, leaving only
the singular wall of ignorance to my defence.
We blew a fuse, one Sunday, over a bottle of wine
spilt on the floor in a drunken swagger,
and I hid in my ignorance, we could always buy more!
hope and happiness can't be bought though.
So instead of turning off your lights I hid in the shower,
tried to drown myself in dishwater rather than your eyes
and waited for th
i n f i n i t eThe last thing that I thought about before the car hit me on that rainy day where Clara's eyes, those eyes that could take me to any other place than I was right now. They could take me to the bluest ocean, where the millions of bubbles tickled my skin and moved through my hair as they made their way to the surface. They could take me high above the treetops, where time would almost seem to stop as every single square inch of my body tried to absorb the beauty around me. They could take me through the Milky Way, watching the stars shoot by and lighting up my eyes as they took my breath away. Yes, it was Clara's eyes that could take me a million places, and it was Clara's eyes that I thought about in the last moments of my life. It was with Clara's eyes that I grew my wings and learned to fly. Will I ever regret that it was her who occupied the last few seconds of my short lived life? No, I never will. And one day when she joins me I'll be able to tell her how it was only her eyes that
The Sorry LetterDear Chiyaa,
Pain in my heart would not subside... The hurting within I could not hide... no matter how much I tried not to love you anymore but I still do! And I just can not hate you...
My twin soul!
I admit, it is indeed true...
You never know what you've really got untill it's gone...
Chiyaa you were always fragile as a rose and beautiful as a moon but I guess, you and I were never meant to be together... I don't know my state, but I do know that am lost deep down inside myself... The burning, the yearning cannot cure itself but I do not wish that it would cure... The only thing I desire at the moment is to leave you in peace, to wish you a great life to pray that you always remain happy... And to say that am sorry, I really am... Coz I couldn't be the one you could truly love... hayee... It is like a pool of anguish in my sea of pain... Thoughts of giving up burned into my brain...
haha God how much I loved you, and still do... But with l
You Will LearnAfter some time you learn the difference,
The subtle difference between holding a hand and chaining a soul.
And you learn that love doesn't mean leaning,
And company doesn't always mean security.
And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts,
And presents aren't promises.
And you begin to accept your defeats,
With your head up and your eyes ahead,
With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child.
And you learn to build all your roads on today,
Because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain for plans,
And futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.
After a while you learn, that even the sun burns if you get too much,
And learn that it doesn't matter how much you do care about,
Some people simply don't care at all.
And you accept that it doesn't matter how good a person is,
She will hurt you once in a while,
And you need to forgive her for that.
You learn that talking can relieve emotional pain.
You discover that it takes several years to build a relationship based on confiden
WallsPellets of water hit my skin, so hot they almost burn. I wish they did. Then I could peel off the skin, the layers naturally made out of self-defense. No, I can't stand to be so vulnerable, raw. So these walls build up and I'm left inside with unsolved issues and confusion. So hollow. Sturdy from the outside, my walls are made of brick. I imagine they're hard to break into, although no one has ever tried. I've never broken out, whether it's lack of motivation, strength, or maybe just an odd feeling of content. I get lonely in the prison I've created. Sadness and anxiety stop by from time to time. They tackle parts of my defense. When they leave, the walls seem to rebuild themselves. Out of habit, maybe. Or maybe sadness wants to be polite and anxiety has to make sure the job is done right/ They know how shattered they've left me, I'm always left to dwell in my thoughts, so is the outside world what I ultimately need protection from?
Unreverberant PainThe scars have faded once again...
I know that their absence means there's something wrong that there's something that I lack. Because the pain still runs through my body, yet I am unable to find its source... You know what I want to scream... Scream till no sound comes out... Scream until i hoarse... It is weird, because a frustration is welling deep within... Raging!! Demanding to be freed... I write again, I know this would raise questions in my life even from your side that WHY? But I do not desire to keep this silent... So should I take a knife and give this unreverberant pain a cause? A source which everyone can easily see...
How to Forget.I think the high is setting in
Because the lights aren't any dimmer
But I can't see you.
My eardrums are still in tact
But I can't hear you.
And I'm in no state to judge my mentality,
But I can at least hope that I'm not going insane.
little piece of your heartshiver and shake
quiver and quake
sometimes i wonder when i will ever wake
eyes wide open to the naked blue abyss
in which i desired to drown all the tears and fears
i have gathered among the years i have spent
trying to remember why i continued breathing
in and out the toxins of unrequited emotions
you can place a little piece of your heart into everyone's pockets
but that sliver of sentiment never means anything... at least from you anyways
peel back your forgotten flesh to reveal the memories you buried in your stolen mind
hopelessly ready for a perpetual state of dreams where He loves you
and you don't even know whom He is yet
fever for the fake
no antidote for the ache
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More