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Something Loved Something LostYou told me once, that you were never sure if you really loved something until you lost it.
[Did that include me?]
I don't think you really lost me, though--I lost you.
I lost the only person that made sense in my life, the only one who knew more about me than myself.
I lost my world.
And it wasn't until it completely stopped spinning that I noticed anything was different.
[You had me fooled, didn't you?]
Remember the way I laughed when you told me I was beautiful?
I laughed because I didn't believe you.
But I also laughed out of pure joy--I had never felt so alive in my life as I had in that one moment.
That's the kind of girl I am, you see.
I am a girl who can find a million beautiful things about everyone else, but nothing even remotely good about herself.
It's a disease really.
One that's out to kill me.
Because not everything about every person is beautiful.
You are living proof of that.
[So, why then my dear, do I still love you?]
Dear SelfDear Self,
You've been this way for so long now that I think you might have forgotten some things.
I'm writing this so you don't have to forget, so you can remember and see how far you've come. So you can smile at yourself for being so silly.
I wonder, do you still have that smile?
The one that almost resembled a frown, but somehow just barely upturned the edges of your lips to qualify as something happy.
You had a habit of using it, but mostly just to assure everyone around you that everything was fine and dandy. So they wouldn't worry.
Do you remember your swing?
I don't know if you recall the way it creaked as it swayed
Like someone was there, making it move. When visibly it was empty.
You made it yours, and thought it gave you the ability to fly.
As your hands gripped the chains and your legs propelled you higher and higher, the ground became so far away that you'd spread your arms and laugh, as if you
In the Dark, I Am PrettyCould it be that because you cannot see my face that you find me beautiful?
I can only imagine how it is to live life in darkness
To not be able to observe the world as anything more than shadows
[What is it like to be blind?]
I should tell you now that I am many things, but not perfectnot beautiful
[So, why do you persist in calling me so?]
I think it is because you are perceptive in ways I can never be
Unlike me, you are beautiful in the light and the dark
You see what most are blinded to
The inner loveliness that others somehow overlook
You say the best way for me to see a person is to close my eyes
[Will shutting my eyes really change my perspective?]
I wonder, why can't all of us be like you?
Why is it that we identify a person only by how they appear?
The outside is what one sees, but it is the inside that truly means something
In a literal sense, beauty eventually fades
At least, outward beauty
But you told me the beauty that you have come to noticethe beauty that yo
The Dream That Never WasI will not be here long dear, but I have to know
Are your eyes always such a melancholy green?
All faded and weathered, drained and worn
You say you have troubles,
My dear boy,
Do you know?
You are not alone
As the rain cascades down your window
And the thunder shakes your splintered floorboards
I sing you a soft lullaby
Timidly, I touch your hair
Day-old stubble lightly grazes my fingertips
And I watch you breathe
I hear you sigh
You whisper that I am beautiful
And I almost believe you
You tell me you're so tired,
So exhausted that you could close your melancholy eyes
And sleep, sleep forever
Because wakefulness seems a misuse of time
Of precious dreaming
My darling boy,
Do you not know?
You are a dream
The Porcelain PeopleI had a dream once, about a place where people were obsessed with perfection, and longed for beauty.
In this place, anyone who looked normal was considered ugly.
They found me wandering about in their strange world, and I was brought before a council of sorts. There I saw people that were so beautiful and faultless that it left me breathless.
A very handsome man, I assumed to be their leader, told me that this was their perfect world, and that I was disrupting their splendor with my unattractiveness. They asked if I wanted to look like them and at first I craved to say "yes" because it was true, perfection was something I had always dreamed of. I had always desired to be beautiful.
Slowly, I turned a small circle, looking at each of the members of the council. They sat with supreme posture in fine chairs. Every one of them was shockingly beautifulit was almost frightening.
Each one had their flawlessly stunning eyes pointed at me, all of them lovely shades of vibrant b
Dear SerendipityYou are a word so closely fused with fate, destiny, chance, and sometimes love
The most beautiful word I know
Is it possible not to fear an unknowable future?
Perhaps life is not about knowing, but rather about finding outdiscovering
Maybe it's hints of surprising, unforeseen, partly inevitable circumstances that test our limits of comfort
Tell me, is love properly defined as two lost people thrown together by chance?
Or could it be that they were always meant to find each other?
Did some divine, other-worldly force reach down and gently place these lives on the same path?
Or is it simply destiny that caused these two souls to meet?
What if I choose the wrong way?
Will I spend the rest of my days wondering and imagining what my life would have been?
Or will I move on, as if nothing ever slowed me down in the first place?
Too many questions, not enough answers
I believe there are things that can never be explained
Fate is a mysterious, frightening, yet exciting concept
We all desi
The Things I Never Told YouI'll start with this, a simple wish
My long-awaited dream to fly
When you told me forever, I almost believed you
And I nearly let my hidden wings unfold
But then I thought maybe you didn't mean forever, not really
Maybe you were just exaggerating
So I tucked them away, hiding them deep within myself again
Flying would prove to be very lonesome, if I had no one to join me
The second was my inner desire to become lost,
To somehow lose myself in search of uncovering who I wanted to be
But to merely pretend, and fall into the masquerade of life was too effortless
Instead I sought to be free, to find what made me different and never change
That's where we clashed unpleasantly
You always knew where you were going; you always had a plan
I only drifted aimlessly, hoping that with a hint of serendipity sooner or later
I would unearth what I was looking for
Losing myself would be rather impossible, if I had nobody to find me again
The final was the most significant, but also the most strange
BeautyPerhaps we got beauty all wrong
Maybe it's the falling instead of standing
Maybe it's the crying instead of laughing
Maybe it's the frowning instead of smiling
Maybe it's the dying instead of living
Maybe it's the people not me
Maybe it's the emptiness not the sea
Maybe it's the mind not the heart
Maybe it's not the pieces of the pictures together
Maybe it's when the picture is torn apart
whispers.shhh. no one has to know the truth, but us.
so you promised me everything, and i did trust.
but the way things went, your smile, it rust.
and now what are we, but a memory in dust?
so stop already.
i'm afraid i may be broken.my ribs are collapsing,
and they're cracking
and all i can think
is "oh please oh please,
don't crush my heart"
because i need it,
i need it to keep beating
so i can keep knowing
what it's like to love
but it's so very hard,
to keep my ribs intact
when night after
night the salty tears fall
and remind me
oh so subtly of it all
My Rose Smells Like DeathHe bought me a rose
All red and bloody-thorned
Said "it's for my rose"
kissed me, and left me behind.
And i watched it die.
We are all just like roses,
cut from the source of life-
We may blossom, but still die.
I let it dry out till-
the petals grew brittle
and the stem blackened, dead.
Still a shadow of it's former self.
It no longer smells of beauty.
It smells of that peircing
sweet rotting that deceives.
It is not life,
it is not living.
It is simply death.
a little sick.there must be more of you inside me than is left
inside that shell you call a body. your bones have
eroded from the caustic ocean you force up and out of
you. you're doubled over, curled tightly in a u shape and you're
shaking so violently i'm scared that what little is left of
you is going to snap, break and completely
fall apart. there is still smoke in your lungs, cradling your heart
and lingering like a deathly halo around your head, almost beautifully.
i still can't decide if i want to kick you
or kiss you.
the best way to remember somethingi cry
every time you write me a letter-
in all my damaged glory,
still loved across miles of river and fields.
you are unyielding and unforgetting,
finding the words we never had
there are many moonlit stories
to recount and to expound upon in
i've got a burn on the toe of my shoe
from getting too near the fire with you-
the bruises on your skin
lasted for days;
the headband your sister gave me
and the way i cried
when it broke;
climbing up stairs, skewed like piano keys
in the winter air,
and entering your house, where you told me
to tug on my sleeve
because my battle wounds were exposed;
your dog curling up on your bed
to keep me company,
the way i was welcomed in your house,
getting drunk on vodka on new year's,
the first time you made me cum,
finding ourselves at a party
on the porch where we met-
i am amazed, astounded, awed.
you can love me even though my ear piercings are crooked,
a broken smile on my teeth
for every time you ran away, afraid;
i saw you in her.
i smelled you in the hall.
and i was almost you at one point.
i made a conclusion:
she's too good for you,
that's why you settled
for only me.
7 is lucky
9 on the bus with her
10 we slept
43200 times 3 the time i wasted
60/60 to walk away
ListenI'm screaming at the top of my lungs,
I'm shouting out the truth.
I'm yelling for you to listen,
You keep putting me on mute.
You hear the words but not the context,
not the meaning, but the lies
you claim that you're listening
but your attitude says otherwise.
Listen closely, read my lips,
I'm close to giving in
Hear the meaning in my words,
the truth behind the sin.
This is my confession,
you don't pay attention to.
If you had listened closer,
I'd still be loving you.
mad worldyou know what hurts?
filling your head with ideas and fantasies of a perfect love and dreams come true...
and finding out that just because you wish on stars, doesn't mean those burning orbs of gas even hear you.
what hurts is knowing that your world is falling apart.
that it is crumbling away, piece by piece...
and no matter how hard you try, you can't put it pack together, because the "fix instantly" glue won't stick.
what kills me is this need to be someone, to change something...
but never knowing exactly where to start.
i know where to begin.
i need to change myself before i can truly accomplish anything else.
the problem is, i'm so used to being me
that i'm unsure of how to be someone else.
or maybe i got that all wrong.
perhaps i'm so used to being someone else,
that i don't know how to be "me" anymore
it's almost a habit to pretend that the girl i see in the mirror every day is me.
she has my eyes, and my hair
and sometimes, she even wears my smile.
but there's something
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A two-time Community Volunteer for the deviantART Related category, Anne is well-known as a positive, helpful force. She is the community's resident expert when it comes to CSS (Cascading Style Sheets), and her personal gallery offers a wide variety of tutorials for new and experienced coders alike. In addition, each winter she hosts a calendar project encouraging members to create Journal designs for all to use, bringing more creativity to the community.
It is with immense gratitude that we acknowledge Anne as the recipient of the Deviousness Award for October 2014. Read More