|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
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
It's NotIt's not the lipstick gloss
that makes a kiss
the warm pulse beating through
It's not their size
but the words they whisper,
It's not the color
nor the length
nor the glint
of her hair
that makes her special
it is her smile
in the falling rain
reflecting the joy
of yet another Spring,
It's not the time
she spent getting beautiful
that makes her so
but in fact
it is the hours
she was besides my bed
when I was sick
and in fact
it is the minutes
I could hear her breathe
in my embrace
AND in fact
it is the seconds
I saw her cry
(out of happiness)
Because she's beautiful.
It's not the clothes,
nor the jewellery,
nor the colored nails,
nor the drawn-in brows,
nor the words she says
to other people,
and neither it is
It is her mind
that entertains my poems,
it is her charm
that paints my cheeks
and averts my shy eyes from her
It is her soul,
that I love.
The Origins Of The Ice Queen (Story)
As the Duke slammed into the cold, hard ground, Elsa knew that she had only made the accusations worse. As the fear began to consume her she ran out of the castle's huge, wooden gates, her breath increasing in speed and intensity the whole time. She heard a familiar voice shout after her. "Elsa! Wait!" It was her sister Anna. She was 2 years younger than Elsa and had a beautiful young face with a rosy complexion and had strawberry blonde hair with a white highlight in it. She wore a green and black royal gown with a flowery pattern over the torso. It was perfect for the coronation that had taken place that day. However, it was not so perfect for chasing the new Queen. "Elsa please! Stop!" Anna shouted at her terrified sister. Elsa started to sprint even faster now, she flicked her wrist and created an icy path in an attempt to slow down her ever worrying sister. Anna slipped and fell onto her behind. She let out a small yelp as she sat, stunned for a moment. She looked up and saw Elsa
SevenEach day is a new struggle.
Each day is an uphill fight.
I go out, and I wage war against them,
And I lose.
Then I come home,
Beaten and bruised,
They won the last one,
They'll win the next.
They'l win all the rest,
Until I'm finally dead.
But I am a warrior,
And one who will protect,
One who will serve,
Until his dying breath.
And why do I go out each day?
Why dawn my dented armor?
Because I know what I'm fighting for.
And though they may have victory,
And the sparkling spoils of war...
I have you,
And that is enough
To make me get out of bed each day,
To walk out the door,
To draw my sword and fight them,
To come home beaten yet once more;
But then I see your face
And I know I'd go through it all again
If it meant I won your love,
If it meant your affection.
For you I would fight this many battles:
Seven times seven times seven.
Sexual TensionI see the lust in his eyes,
a whirlwind of locked desire,
looking for a way to be unleashed
There's hidden intentions in all he does
He's always finding an opportunity
for our skins to touch
I want him to cross the line
I want to feel what he feels
I don't want to be forbidden anymore
I want to be his sweet meal
To feel different hands on my body
would awaken what I've been trying to hide
The fact that I want him to take me
I can no longer deny
I wish I could touch his body,
feel him up with my hands;
rub myself against him,
do his every command
The Voice of HeavenThe sweetest music fills the atmosphere
The voice of heaven itself
Surfing on waves of air
Sound so pleasant, beyond orgasmic
Listen to the subtle facets of its audible splendor
Every measure, every crescendo, every lick
Everyone is savored
Never have ears been so graced
Graced by such a precious lullaby
Transcendent silvery tones caress the soul
Knees begin to buckle
Everything fades in haunting mist
Oh, harmonious ballad!
The notes sparkle along their silky path
So smooth, so lovely
Sing them forever
Sing sweet love,
Your beautiful heart let shine!
Light up the darkness
Play your songs again and again
Play your songs in my heart
In the heart you've captured and chained to yours
If only everyone could know their magick
Those notes will resonate in me til I die and ever after
I love you, voice of heaven
what love is not.it was a s l o p p y first kiss where
my drunk lips fumbled against yours.
the dull thwack of my heart,
locked behind curved ribs
cleared my groggy brain,
clouded with lustful premonitions.
it was an e l e c t r i f y i n g first kiss where
you entwined your hands in my hair.
your mouth encompassed mine and
my breath became lost in the steady
of your chest.
it was a s h y first kiss where
i pulled away before you could explore.
your tongue grazed my teeth,
searching for a way past the ivory gates.
i dug my finger into the stubble along your jaw,
my nail lulling your carnal desires.
it was my first kiss with you.
Songs“Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?”
Those aren't my words, what can I say?
Your laugh, your smile, your way with words,
Your song is borrowed by the birds…
sugarclawyou sang, watermystic
rosehips swaying two hearts
to a shell
and i, niagara
fell beneath, earth tesselate
seeping in infinite squares
but this is no desert love
story you are telling, lies
stretched over acres
o' your sweetscented mouth
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.
Volpi.You will find that the story you tell
is very rarely your own. In Lucca,
even the smallest pebbles
breathe in the warm sunlight.
Knotted stones and cobbled roads
beat out a paper-dry heartbeat heat
my city breathes in and out,
inhales sparrow air.
It's writing a story.
You are the pen.
You will find that in Lucca
the daisy chains forge fire
in side streets and back alleys.
Teenagers intertwine. Tell me,
odd flower, are you still closed?
Here we are colored wax;
the heat of the city melts us.
We run into each other, rhapsody
of pigments. Operas are our specialties.
Open up; feel the reds.
If not, try and see them. There is a place
of deep knife marks, a street
long as midnight
you may learn something there.
Valentina's voice glimmers like red wine.
You may enjoy intoxications. Still,
know alcohol has no story
and will swallow your own.
Find the sign with the wolf on it.
You'll know the place. Epiphanies ring true as church-bells.
Lucca still guides the wanderers
to well sp
Keep in Touch!