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no longer the beast of your homelet go of my hair, you're keeping me on my knees in
this cleanly pit rank not with
bad reputation but manipulation laced with false and
misplaced good intention, i say
FUCK YOU MOMMA
fuck you, DONA.
tool poem 1The stars lay shimmering, shimmering
over the glassy sheen on his eyes
as he stood to face them full on in the chest
he reflected the whole sky.
Moon was an unfinished disk over his lips
like ultraviolet glowing white -
I've made his skin black like night and rich dirt
the swill of the soil in my teeth only pulling further his
from the nape of his neck towards me,
standing behind him in the mirror, I can see the cosmos
on the tips of his nipples
the skin of his teeth.
What else has he, if that be
but on his skin?
Stars lay quietly shimmering, shivering
on the glassy lake-sheen of his eyes
behind which lies
the tiny upside-down reflection of me
like in a glass bottle.
Ode to ToriI found your Simon and Garfunkel album under a stack
of old mix cd's, and thought
you are the bridge and the silent water.
Like that old Monet with lily-pads and soft moss,
you are the woman in light draped cloth I perceive
just outside the edges of the frame.
Byron said you walk in beauty
(though you like Keats infinitely more, Byron spoke of you.)
Shy and quiet (speak! you have more than you understand
that holds greater value than you estimate)
and endlessly generous.
You wait your turn, head down and unassuming but
and artist's soul (anyone who looks in your eyes sees)
tempered with the virtue desired
of a woman long before you or I were thought of.
You never cease to give of yourself;
before long, you'll be given to by someone else
worthy of your sweetest affection -
and, my lovely, Tori -
there aren't many that are.
BrigitteI have become feminine, with soft edges.
Less sharply shadowed with you pulling cover over me, I
curl around your fingers, slipping
falling through each hour dripping
sweetened with sunrise shared 'tween sheets that now are absent
from your bed.
My fingers are longer, nails are smoother
legs have gotten less mechanic as they're passed over by your hands,
I never dreamed I'd be as pretty as I know I am
reflected in your eyes.
This new curvature to my breast,
foreign, I feel, a woman beats beneath it.
I step light on my toes and you have your feet turned out.
I shrink and spend time at the mirror,
lining my eyes, I pull my lips to the side,
I fix my hair although you flatter
(know full-well that it doesn't matter)
stand behind me, kiss my neck.
We can transcend time to be traditional,
you widen and I cinch at the waist.
I Tried Your Vernacular FirstToo close to the finish
the song changes, my eyelids are lazy,
Slack, my bones sink into the mattress.
I want the music to stop, let me rest in near-silence,
only the sound of the wind in the ferns,
thick midnight, quiet speech,
an owl's wing-flap, screech.
Is it you, outside my window?
Are you the owl that passes by?
A stream of barely-consciousness says it's you that screeches in the night.
Right now, one foot in dream, if I say you're the owl,
you become moon-faced, feathery, and I am cowed,
calling for you in your vernacular,
reaching with two hands up, where the air is a little colder.
I put feathers in my hair,
one black, one white.
I am the contrast of your body with the sky;
you are the owl that screeches in the night.
biting the bitThree hours (post-adieu), I sit by the window.
I do want you badly, you're in my head
(sliding, slippery in my hands)
I'll turn over to you in the mornings, I become your bed,
threads in the sheets, lain across your skin.
renewal of purpose.really.I have seen today new.
Now I must pull with three fingers, rip the sinews from the bone,
slowly; I savor the moment, each that passes.
I am young and have no more shame for it -
I am young and the world is mine!
To tower in volatility, waver, I am widespread,
arms thrown out, I can hold the sensations
a little longer, choke, gasp,
scream, ecstasy, every breath belongs to me.
Why, I strain vehemently,
exclaiming under the tension, crying for release, yes.
I do these things with made fists and wild eyes, like you.
In youth, I have found a shame,
the uncontrollable wanting, reaching for everything but above all of the everything to reach for, on the highest shelf, freedom.
Now I may cry (for release, yes),
but I know I will be great, for I am young, and I stand -
tower in pragmatism -
full of arrogance-romance-exuberance,
receiver and giver.
coming up.assuranceDelicious, in between your lips,
intoxicating, sweetest drink,
to sip your open-mouthèd kiss.
That fullwide look behind your eyes before you close them -
blue surprise -
to which I answer with my limbs brown:
I'll hold your head, caress you down.
I am not
practiced, this way, it has been
far too long to be awol.
It takes many deep breaths before I pluck myself
like guitar strings (I'd play for you anytime) up and over
the barricades of self-defeat.
Confused at these new purposes, precipices, cliffhangs of
desire versus what I thought was
I've never loved well.
break at the last second, selfish with myself, bound always to
let the other one spread themselves out.
Rough, never have I pleased,
not even myself.
For you, I stepped out over the canyon.
With both hands extended, I expected to tumble quickly,
so I closed my eyes, at first;
starvation playing on my wits, I, emboldened,
wantwantwanting so bad to be that girl
(the one you breathe heavy after)
Yes, I'd Say You're Sexy.Young and warm, our
brown limbs wind around each other, I
push my heels into your calves and press back, into your chest.
Your hands grow into me, two circles above my core,
two rounds of pressure, pleasure, love and leaning
my head back, find your throat.
The smoothness of your back winding in tendrils over me
(like bark on trees)
is long to pour finger-rivers down when we,
breathe hot into the other's mouth, coming
together humid and soft.
With arms so strong and eyes so sweet,
tongue curling 'tween lips red deep,
you visit me in all my dreams,
when I'm awake, tug me to sleep.
If an angel hears meIf there is an angel near me, I pray to remember me, and I know it will, at see my love for you.
Although I also know... that between me and her, the sky only have dark clouds...
I will pray, I will seek, I swear, I will find it, even if I had to look in a million stars.
In this dark life, absurd without you ... I feel you've become the center and the end of my universe...
If love have any limit, I would cross it for her, and in the vast emptiness of my nights, I feel you, and I will love you ... like I could love you for the first time, when a kiss was a whole lifetime...
Feeling like I lost all my mind... for you.
I understand that your kisses must never be mine, I realize that I will never see my reflection in your eyes. But despite that ... my heart ... instead of love you less, loves you even more.
The two is just one single soul: The scent of her hair, the murmur of her silence...
Her smile like a sweet tale... the sweet honey I tasted on your lips.
I thought you and thought you
12.5%see to it that i drink
away this mad, hopeful
all these ghosts
are quiet now; clouds
These Bones (I'm in Suicide With You)we're lost without words
in the ache of the brightness.
these bones are old
we are lost--
i'm lost without you.
(but i haven't a clue what you do with me.)
these bones aren't gold,
so what's worthwhile
about them to you?
we are carbon
blood, blood, flowing blood
that clots in cuts
and runs rivers in veins
and stains, how it stains,
carpet and floor and hands
i'd be more
than all the good
i do for you.
i'd be lost without you
but you don't need me
and i'm in suicide with you
for too many reasons
and too many times.
but my only question--
is my love
even if i lie?
...alegria eterna......alegría eterna...
...te pienso, te siento, te espero,
en los remanentes de nuestro universo,
escuchando el harpa de los recuerdos,
de los nuestros, de los pequeños momentos...
...los besos, el cielo, la timidez,
las miradas, las caricias, la estupidez,
los tropiezos, el tiempo, la felicidad,
las lágrimas, las despedidas, la eternidad...
...los años pasan, el caliente no llega,
mi sonrisa se apaga, la luna se aleja,
mi cabello se opaca, mi vida se acorta,
pero mi sentimiento permanece, persevera...
¿Cuándo será el día, la mañana, que te vea,
que tu sonrisa no sea de mi reminiscencia,
que la brillantez del sol refleje tu dulce esencia,
cuando podrá mi corazón ver la alegría eterna?
-Solem Nocte Infinitus-
Forever and Always.You were happy now.
The road wasn't always easy, but you managed to continue on down it. It always seemed bleak and dreary until he showed up.
At first you thought it was some cruel joke like usual…
He was different in every way possible. There were always smiles and warmth radiating from him.
He never judged you because of your appearance. He was better than that.
Pointing out all the good in you that everyone else seemed to pass by as they only criticized you on what they thought was bad.
He did all of this and so much more. Helping you find your way when all seemed dark to you. Showing you that there was a light at the end of the tunnel and being there tightening the hold on your hand as you both traveled down the dark road.
It was beautiful and so was your life now.
You thought you'd never be here, right now with him.
That's what he told you that day when he asked you.
TnM-Vampiros VS Lobos Cap.4Cap.4 Amigos?
En el parque
Cuando llegaron Xadezz y Frejazz se miraron y se enamoraron
Thomas: hola Marie
Marie: hola Tommy son ellos tus amigos
Thomas: si ellos son Dezz *saluda con la mano* y Fred *saluda con la mano*
Marie: hola es un gusto conocelos ellos son Jazz *saluda con la mano* y Xavier *saluda con la mano*
Xavier: es un gusto conocerlos yo soy Xavier Flynn y mi amiga Jasmine Raí pero le gusta que la llame Jazz
Jazz: un gusto y lo sentimos por lo modales es por genes vampiros
Dezz: no se preocupe mi nombre es Dezz y mi amigo Fred es un gusto conocerlos
Thomas: bueno como ya no conocemos quiere jugar a verdad o reto
Todos (menos Thomas) : esta bien!!!
Después de horas de juega verdad o reto
Thomas: emm Fred verdad o reto
Thomas: es verdad que duerme con tu pijama de peluches
Fred: si ¬¬
Todos (excepto Fred): jajajaja
Xavier recibió un mensaje
Marie: tu mamá
Jazz: y que pasa
Xavier dice que esta organizado su boda
it was only a dreamI don't fall in love with people, I fall in love with ideas;
I fall in love with pretty words and
arms around waists,
tears wiped away by thumbs
and kisses on noses and cheeks,
late night joy rides and crude jokes
whispers under sheets and heated yelling
when the day week month isn't going right;
lace and cotton side by side and afternoons grilling
steaks and cold drinks of sweet lemonade,
I love how we can take breaks just because we need to
and then see each other and everything is right and
talking about the moon and the stars and what it means
to be a live and are we soul mates? meeting for the first time
and date nights at taco stands and playing video games in our underwear;
I don't see a problem with any of this, but I don't see any faces either-
I am too full of dreams and not enough courage
you burn like cheap whiskeyand to me
you are like
an alcoholic's liver cancer
slowly killing me
In Your Very Presence Alone...Author's Note: Please don't be deterred by the stereotypical opening lines. I know there are a million poems out there that start off by comparing a girl to a flower, but mine goes so SO much deeper than that. Please give me a chance?
You're like a flower, Delicate and bright
Your fragrance is so sweet and graceful,
As are the gentle contours of your soft face,
And your lips, and your eyes, filled with such color and life
To rival every bloom which came before you.
You are innocent, untouched and untainted by the faults of human kind,
And though so fragile, here you stand against the wind, the sun, and the frost
And your unwavering spirit is ever stronger.
You are pure and a dreamer.
The blissful escape to imagination and the impossible
Are all made possible by your very presence alone.
And they are confirmed and made real
When we touch, when you look into my eyes...
You're like the Spring which stands for new life,
New beginnings and forgiveness of the past.
Every sign of win
Chilly.housewarmingToday, I wrestle with my thoughts
And am scattered.
I have wrapped my joy in few words
covered it in rude noise.
Oh, to have you to sleep with
(and whisper to)
Through this brief and intense
Instead, I cover
my whole body
Only to find that I can never recreate
your real warmth.
Blue Eyes in FlamesWhen the prince sees the flower bloom from the palm of her hand, he orders her arrest.
She is only seven years old.
He takes the flower from her and keeps it, even though he knows he shouldn't. He puts it a vase, or, rather, his servant does that for him. The flower doesn't ever die, even years later.
It's dawn of a December morning, and he's cold. But still, he stands next to his father dutifully and looks at the little girl with blue eyes that are now black from seven nights sleeping on a cold, dungeon floor behind bars. They cut off her dark brown hair during that time. She's tied to the pyre, and there are seven guards around her, holding sharper swords than normal, not that she could get away. There's one man dressed in black holding an unlit torch, with a mask over his face to prevent his death. His father raises his arm, and the torch is lit.
She locks her gaze to his, and he blinks at her. It's like she expects him to prevent it. He couldn't, though, he can't. She scares him, w
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