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Darling, I Need A VacationDarling I need a vacation again, where I can put my toes in the sand while you’ll run your fingers over my foot. I need one of our classic beach trips where my skin gets tanner, and you get red because you didn’t heed my warning that yes you do need to reapply sunscreen under this beautiful sun. I need to layout, exposing my scars in my bikini, turning you on yet being only a tease. And we’ll laugh at the other couples who have grown to finicky and don’t know how to touch each other anymore, as you’ll wrap me in your arms on our beach blanket promising otherwise, which is probably the same things they all once promised each other. And I’ll complain when you kick too much sand, and the umbrella will try to fly away but you’ll tie it down masterly as usual. We’ll sip our cokes relishing in the sweetness that takes the salt off our lips when we take breaks to lay our bodies out. Take me back to last summer, with palm trees and coconuts. Wher
The Morning After Pill“I’m pregnant,” I said. I wish I said. I wish I could say. But not really as I lay naked next to you. We’re about five seconds away from jumping in the car to buy Plan-B. Because I’m too young, and I’ve got plans. To be more than this. More than just another knocked up 21 year old letting her goals slip through her hands. I mean, sure, it’s right for some. But not me. Not the girl who’s unsettled, sharp as hell, but can’t make up her mind about the future. Except when it comes to you. But even then, some days, you’re only just okay.
But she’s so beautiful dancing in the sunshine in my mind. Her nose flat and small like yours, her skin lost somewhere between your washed out look and my sun kissed birth tan. And she has your wavy hair, with my brown shades, and my eyes. She’s the center of our worlds, twirling in between the crevices of reality and my uterus emptying out itself.
I’m shakey at Walmart, with my C
To Kill Me By My Own HandsI am dusting off my toes that used to patter.
Through the streets, barefoot, toes curled,
My laugh is vomiting your face in its puddle.
You lurk with that gun to my head
I can almost feel the bullet crushing me;
A false threat.
I dare you to lick me,
My poison will only make you
Want to kill yourself too.
I am manic running sloshed
Curdled by the shadows leering
As my guides give up and the light goes out.
Curtain down, bullets out.
Accept UsI ache for your check box green light,
his eyes yearning, and my head spinning.
Rushing with the sound of duress
tit-tit-tap, and like a pencil I bounce
to the floor, hoping you did not enjoy
my fall for you.
Perhaps, One DaySomedays
I want to go to the beach
and live a traitor's life
with the water to my breasts,
and the world chasing winds
careless in my demise.
Love Through the AgesXV.
I met you and my heart yearned to be your savior. It was perhaps the attention, the feeling of being needed where I felt useless outside of you, you who spoke of suicide yet somehow I broke my own rules for. You who I'd stay up until midnight chatting with, and running home to the computer for. You made me feel as if the loneliness that had consumed me was nothing compared to yours, and that if I could perhaps fill in the holes of your hole, I could steal you away from depression and find my own long-awaited sunshine. But you with your dark depression, and poor coping skills taught me very little other than how that picking up one knife could lead to a long addiction, much longer than our relationship lasted. And although you talked me out my pretentiousness with sex, abstinence being key, and I soon was ready to let you be the key to my lock, I declined for someone better.
You swooned my heart through awkward family meetings, constantly chaperoned. But yet, we somehow always
My SunlightYou are my sun,
My only light,
As you fade,
The moon is there,
A memory of you,
Of the darkness,
Before your dawn.
You are the breeze,
That kisses my face,
Those tender lips,
That rushing embrace.
You are the grass,
Beneath my feet,
You hide my tears,
You support my weight.
You are the last,
One for me,
There was many before,
But they were never the same.
With you its right,
With you its love,
And if tonight,
I come above.
I'll see your glory,
From the moon,
From the memory,
Of this afternoon.
TonightBring me to life
With your touch.
Love me now,
Forget me later.
Set me on fire
With your lips,
Into my soul.
At least for tonight,
Let me feel again.
I PromiseIt is a painful thought
To know he kissed you,
To know he stole your innocence.
He felt the warmth and comfort of your love,
But manipulated it to lust
And turned that perfect smile I now see,
Into a lifeless vessel
That gave into his
Carefully painted words
He had you
Before I ever knew you,
I'm sorry I wasn't there,
I'm sorry I could not save you.
But look up at me now, love,
Look up at me with those astonishing, crystal eyes
And know that I will love you
Until this heart of mine has given out.
I am your present
And your future;
I will love you for more than your body,
I will love your wild personality,
I will love your motherly instincts,
I will love your acceptance,
I will love your understanding,
I will love your "frustrations",
I will love your timidness,
I will love your stubbornness,
I will love your laughter,
I will love your tears,
I will love your scars,
I will love your flaws,
But most of all;
I will love you.
Puppet String SymphonyHere come the snares,
wrenching at my heart;
like my tongue can’t find the words to say.
I've been resurrecting your skeletons,
just to place broken flesh over it and watch it all decay…
…scratching at freshly picked scars and rose petals,
while digging up old habits and hatchets;
just so I can whistle a tune so tragic.
Here comes the wind,
stomping at my lungs;
like my emotions are gasping to be released.
I've been coughing up your cover-ups,
just to place my index finger over it and watch it all cease…
…living in this darkness, sulfur-tipped match tossed in the breeze,
while thinking it’s just not worth the candle;
just so I can hum a song you can’t handle.
Here come the keys,
playing at my mind;
like all eighty-eight demons and angels serving one star.
I've been worshipping my self-inflicted headache,
two times twelve and that’s how many bars…
…I've got to show you the color I feel.
When the puppet string symphony beg
About ArtA sweet poem,
All but a
For the true art called
my eyes sometimes forget youwhen you are gone, my eyes sometimes forget you;
the daily grind goes on; the bus-wheels roll their hides over the asphalt roads;
the snow melts into pools and clings to boots, licking the rubber heels of girls
who sway their hips to music that i only faintly hear; the women smile in coffee shops
and leave stray hairs on the wicker chairs; people pass by windows and their zippers
catch the light; my fingers turn the pages of new books.
somehow your voice finds me in the midst of all of this,
and very softly brings the words
that never really leave me:
this is my love.
when you are gone, my eyes sometimes forget you-
but my heart does not.
An Everlasting RequiemPale white skin.
Your auburn hair in locks.
Eyes as bright as jade-stones.
Body scarred, they say, it’s broken.
But I could only see your perfection.
At peace you are, for so long.
Yet I cannot sleep.
I feel like you have faded now,
You are so beautiful.
Have you moved, are you near to me?
The questions only linger.
We used to play,
And watch the sights,
The world was ours to borrow.
But you were done years ago, when things first turned sour.
I only wish that I had seen- so that I could return your smile.
Where are you now?
After all this time.
The seasons change without you.
But you are gone, and I remain here now.
Everything is cold.
For you, I’ll cling forever,
I could never hold another.
To breathe their scent or touch their hand,
Would only be betrayal.
For you I’ll stay forever,
I’ll grow old, and perish, in time.
For you I’ll wait forever,
Yet I know I’ll die alone.
Unrequited LoveJust think of me.
Text me good morning and good night.
Text me at lunch just to let me know you're alright.
Wish me a good nap around five or six.
And if you're every bored just give me a call.
I'll make you a fangirl no matter what.
Even if you never admit it I'll let you off.
Meet up with me every now and then.
Never end a conversation with just goodnight or goodbye.
Ask questions and explore life with me.
Support me but don't try to fix me.
Even though I'll try to fix you.
But first I need this dream to come true...
In the Dark We BecomeYou’re in the stars
That just won’t fade
You’re the days that make me brave.
You’re tired hands always ready
to take my mask off, tears hiding behind it
and you backspace my regrets.
Your lips say I love you,
Your heart slips out through your eyes
Glowing from an implosion
Of tenderness that I have yearned for
You release me from myself
Cutting the ties that chain my heart
From being trapped in this cage.
We become lightning,
A clap in the night that lights
Even the darkest of skies.
Genghis Whenever we were bad my mother used to take us to the mall to see Genghis Kahn. They kept him in a dusty diorama of a Mongolian steppe, all tall grass and yurts. He sat on a throne of bone (well, plastic shaped like bone), scowling in incomprehension at the American kids who flocked around him like startled lemmings. My mother would usually push us toward him, saying things like “Tell him what you did to your father’s stamp collection.” Genghis would give a grunt, spit a wad of phlegm onto the tall grass, and give us a wizened, wrinkled grimace, as if he had to go to the bathroom.
He terrified me.
My brother couldn’t get enough of him.
When my brother got caught in my mother’s evening dress, my mother grabbed us both and dragged us to Genghis. It was a slow day, and we were the only kids crowding him. “Tell him what you did,” my mother hissed a
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More