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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
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
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
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 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
This Isn't Goodbye, But This Isn't Hello EitherI'm no good at hellos, I feel that introductions are often a lie
You never hear people say: Hello my name is so and so, and I'm afraid of being alone
Because people don't like to admit that they fear anything
Being fearful of something makes us seem vulnerable
(Or does it?)
I think I somehow knew it was going to end up like this
There was always you and there was always me
But there was never us
I replay the first time we met, those awkward first glances and exchange of words
The beginning of many conversations to come
We didn't know it then, but we would soon be listening to one another's voices like they were the only sounds that made sense in this world
(When did we decide they meant nothing at all?)
I remember the last time we saw each other, those too-short kisses and drawn-out hugs
The promises of forever, that always seem so real in the moment
(But that I don't think anyone really ever intends to keep)
We didn't know it then, but we would soon be pretending that everything was o
The Sound of SilenceOn long drives, I like the sound of tires moving over pavement
It's like a soft humming, barely distinguishable if you've got the radio blasting,
or if the people around you are talking up a storm
I especially love the low whistle while passing over a bridge,
it breaks the monotonous humming for a few seconds
In silence, I can hear things so much better
Like now as I am sitting here at my desk:
I hear my computer,
it hums too, but in a different way than wheels over roads
It's a constant humming, unwavering
I hear my hand,
brushing across the paper as I write
It's a somewhat jerky sound, random and fluctuate in volume
depending on my speed (or lack thereof) as I form these words
I hear birds,
greeting one another just outside my open window
Their chirps and calls repetitive
(I wonder what they are trying to tell me over and over)
I hear my clock,
the continuous "click" as the minutes pass by,
giving the silence it's very own heartbeat
Right now I'm screaming inside, but no one can hear
cast it out.this is not a poem,
it is a story
about how my summer boy
is probably out trying to get laid
while im two hours away
probably trying to fix the mess in my head.
we might have made love once or twice,
or maybe just fucked
but these days,
he say he values our friendship too much
to let anything happen
so maybe i sew my mouth shut
and convince myself that i dont know what love is
so theres no way i could be loving him.
the bath water has gone cold,
and i just want my hair to grow
down over my ribs
get in a car,
go across the country,
let the sun purge my skin
of the touches i did not
want to feel.
ive been calling myself broken for too long.
convinced myself that ive been tainted to the bone
and my mind was always meant to be this dark
'it only matters if you think it matters'
i dont want it to matter anymore,
thats what he taught me.
like the first timei expected you to say something hurtful back
when i told you i didn't like liking you
but all you said was that no one does
and i should have said that i did,
i just can't stand the thought of not
having you completely
but i do like you,
i like like you,
in a 7th grade crush kind of
there are so many words i could say,
so many reasons why i like you,
so many why i shouldn't
all the right signs and
all the wrong ones
but i feel you should just know
i like you, a lot, and i like
how i feel safe
little talks.you had this way for making my day immediately shit after any form of interaction with you.
last thursday i called you to see if you were still breathing (if he was still your fuck buddy, if you were still a dropkick), the second i hung up the phone the cat saw a shadow on my leg and decided to attack it, leaving my shin covered in shreds of skin and blood. the week before you crashed on my couch cause you were fucking were too shitfaced to call a cab to the other side of town. i broke a whole load of dishes and stained my sheets black with your fucking puke covered hoodie that i thought i'd be kind and wash for you.
Story TimeLet me tell you a little story about a tall brunette boy with caring words, and strong arms, and a rock bottom brown eyed girl that was never quite sure.
He came from a troubled past, and yet had the million dollar heart, one no one would ever find anywhere else.
She came from a past where ignorance was the best way to survive, she wanted to soar, and a way she did, she soared right down to rock bottom.
It was everything and anything one could ever imagine sparks flying, people falling, hearts leaving. It was everything the rock bottom girl could ever hope for. Fairytales did exist when he was whispering her words of strength, wisdom and love. All too soon rock bottom girl was falling farther and farther for her tall brunette boy who always promised to have his arms out and ready for her to slip into.
Sweet words were whispered, angry words never existed until the end, but why jump forward, there's still more to tell. Rock bottom girl never was ready, always asking for a li
cross my heartwhen i said we were perfect together,
i actually meant i hope we are perfect together.
when i said i could fall in love with you,
i actually meant that ache was already beginning
if theres one thing i remember about love,
its the ache reeking havoc in my ribs at night
while thoughts of someone tip toe into my head
leaving little pieces everywhere
and i just dont know how to get them out
when i think of you, i think of the first time
i told someone to make love to me,
and actually heard my name caught
in a breathless moan
as you left me breathless wondering
if this could be my real resurrection
'you always look at me with those sad eyes'
i didnt tell you, but thats all i am.
sad eyes, sad thoughts, and some sad stories
topped off with too many feelings,
and not enough control.
twenty-something days later,
and you are either half way out the door,
or half way in
& im just thinking
i wish you'd just let me know which it is,
because my heart has it's suitca
I remember looking up from my book a few days ago when you and Kyle walked in the room.
Kyle was talking animatedly, waving his hands every which way. You were listening, nodding your head with your eyebrows drawn together. I assume you were trying to decipher what Kyle was trying to tell you, because he rarely has anything important or relatively normal to say. Sometimes he says things that are so ridiculous it makes me want to rip out his spinal cord and strangle him with it.
"Think before you talk," I'd love to scream, but don't. Everything said to him goes in one year and out the other, so what would be the point?
When the conversation ended, Kyle slapped your shoulder and squeezed it in a friendly sort of way. You shuddered and shook like a rattle snake was squirming up your back and it made me want to laugh. I would have probably done the same thing if Kyle touched me, but maybe that isn't the reason you did it.
I stuck my nose back in my book and leaned back on the sofa, cho
try againyou've never stood up for me before,
so i wouldnt expect you to start up now.
calling me a thousand names that i've heard for sure
yet not one of them are mine somehow.
i don't think you ever really understood.
im holding on to anything i think can keep me from falling
i wrapped you tightly around my bones for support
but you've really let me down.
i wish i may
i wish i might
i want to forget you tonight.
im torn between
who i was and who i want to be
where you are and where im going
and im going far away from you.
you are painting the same love story
but in her bones this times
while im scraping skin with boys
to find a touch that burns like yours.
while i am chasin lust
for the way a city boys touch feels,
and to figure out how his skin feels
and if it feels better than yours.
i am getting lost
and you are letting my nice bright memory
be tainted and ruined and locked away in the worst of ways.
where is your voice now?
todayits march when she finally peels those black black feather lashes open to see that the whole world has crumbled down around her.
she has pushed and pushed until no one has pushed back. finally cleared her eyes to see that everyone is long gone now.
"i'd call for the boy with blue eyes to come save me if i could, but he's gone and so is the love that once warmed these bones."
cigarette after cigarette, she thinks
"i'd turn back all the clocks, breathe in romance instead of drugs so maybe i wouldnt be so broken now.
so maybe, boys wouldnt run the other directions because of the cuts on my skin and the sorrow carved into my bones.
maybe the boy with green blue silver eyes would pull me in close if i could give him a heart that wouldnt suck all the love that it could out of him in the end. but instead,
she says im emotionally unstable and too confused to function and that maybe, just maybe, i should distance myself from him, silence my cries.
so. i bury the urge to run my fingers through
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
Leaving Southampton She was in the kitchen when he stumbled in noisily, tripping as he went past the shelves and catching the edge of the table to keep himself from falling.
Pretending not to hear the stream of curses that followed, she kept her eyes fixed on the dishes, letting her hand trail in the soapy water. There was a loud scraping of wood against grimy concrete as he drew a chair and collapsed into it. At this she looked up, and after a moment's hesitation, she said, unnecessarily, "You've been drinking."
He clutched his head and said nothing. He hadn't shaved in weeks and stank of sweat and alcohol; he looked much older than his eighteen years.
They sat in silence for a while. Then he announced, loudly, "Fuck."
She didn't bother to tell him off. She just waited. And jumped when he suddenly brought his fist down, hard, onto the table.
"Our lives here are s
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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