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Seaspray MemoriesWhere its skirt flaps on the shore the sea looks fragile. Cake icing, boiled into moss-crystals changing every second.Seaspray Memories by Solarune
Linger, wane, wisps and ruffled glass over the sand and here is some yellow-brown of the shallows, safe for crabs and toddlers.
(You can have it if you want. A present.)
Here is the young fresh green later out and with it the waves begin to skim. I think that depth is adolescence. Don't you see the excitement as they pull on their dresses and prance without a care?
Brisk against the sky, a painting stretched. Blue is deep. Danger-blue, darkened now, and were you to swim over there it'd -
(fear is bottomless. Sinks your heart and even standing far away you can sense it)
- sap your will to float.
Bare the gentle curve of the horizon. Wide sky, the birds spread thread-line wings, except there are none today, so it's left to the clouds. Which are pale, and quite timid, and thin enough to hang clothes on if you asked them politely.
One remembers these things, later. Contemp
On The Division Of The SunAt some point, there is a moment where you have to step back from everything and lock your mind onto the first thing that crosses it. Me, I thought I heard the wind smiling. So I listened to it, and thought, this isn't so bad.On The Division Of The Sun by Solarune
Until the weight of Splittime cracked it open, and I was back reeling in the
steel forest, holding a wrist made of sharp bones. Hak's bones were so thin that I could feel their shapes in my fingers. I could see his skin dragging like loose blinds.
"I go no further," he said, and his voice was like reeds jumping in the rain.
Close to Splittime, there is no visible change, but you can almost feel Lightset preparing to shut itself off. It always disorients me. I know, of course, why it's done, and I know our bodies can survive Darkhalf, and we won't even remember it until we wake up again, and I know the new world won't get any sunlight if it doesn't happen
but I still hate it.
"Don't be afraid," Hak said, when my eyes started to shutter for the
Circles - Venetian DreamsI am washed inside and made of models Circles - Venetian Dreams by Solarune
bones from our toy medical kit when we were three and
life was so much simpler (caught backwards, like fairy footsteps).
I only smile a fragment,
because the world is very, very old (and has seen everything).
We do not escape
definition; we avoid it, sliding past
that never made it into our history.
I do not swallow lies stale they go down me, wet and silent
at first, and harden in my belly. Then my eyes are Venetian:
swollen glass caught at the wrong size
careful china faces. And like the turn of the waterways
I wonder if wishing is a displacement; we fall out of alignment with the straightened world to make circles
geometrically, they are less constant. A square steadies, rules; they shatter
But they are also wheels, to soften the grate of time
as it slurs ashes
Swallowtail SkiesCherries are secret smilesSwallowtail Skies by Solarune
lipsticked on their leaf cushions
round red worlds
in the childhood
bed rivers; charmed
by fish shimmer-tails
and weed whispers.
If I dream
of swallowtail skies, while your ocean words
swim at me
all I see is shapes of sound
gentle to fit the day.
Nature is a pulse
I am a beekeeper of patterns;
the ones traced from fingertips
to wet sand.
Lighten your smile
so it is not lip-rocks lifted easily;
I am a gardener of dreams
where your feet are mist; sea-spray dancers.
Of children's laughter
poster-painted in the sky.
We count the clouds when they murmur
shape-changing; we forget the grass
underneath us lumpy stones and thistles
a picnic hill.
With summer days
on crusts of fresh bread dawn
and happy smells of butter;
on your hat.
Fall AwayI.Fall Away by cherrichan13
There's just too much in this world. I don't want to waste it. I don't want to reach out and have it all fall away, an autumn come too soon. I want to sink down into the Earth and just feel it spin, twenty-three thousand miles an hour and still not fast enough. Pin me down, just this once.
There's no way to catch on. The stars will float away before you know it. You can't float away from here. All you can do is hold on tighter. You should be fine. You should be able to just stare up at the sky and realize that no, there's nothing up there. Cities don't have that many stars, so live it up. What are you waiting for?
I want to tell you you're wonderful and have you fall like I do, breathlessly and without regret. That kind of rush is just so hard to come by these days. The world is changing so slowly, and I'm still waiting for my sunrise.
I won't tell anyone if you want to run away from here.
A titanic kind of love.He could pick you apart like your favourite pastry; find every glob and sugared jewel, those cinnamon swirls you buried from view. His fingers peeled you down from crown to feet and he did it so tenderly you wouldn't even notice until you slipped on your own skin, amazed that you'd been naked in his presence. He knew you never watched the ground as you walked, eyes always on the sky and possibilities above. It was a hushed undressing, a stripping of water-based paints you thought were permanent. A beige canvas dripping wet, colours pooling on the floor, you'd shades trickling from your eyes and he told you he thought blank pages were beautiful because they were splattered with promise.A titanic kind of love. by queenofrelax
You're drawing sunsets, pressing pastel pigments with your thumbs to create fish scaled leaves and haze. He could always build you up with everything you already owned, and he would stare up at you in adoration of the sincerest kind. He was selfless in loving you, showed you all his loose ends that he wr
An Angel in Glassy WaterThe panels around me let light in; bright, white light. Blinding light. I could see shadows moving in the background, but the haze behind my eyelids blocked them out, like white noise for the eyes.An Angel in Glassy Water by Kassi-Kamira
The girl was floating, the fluorescents washed out any colour she had. Even her eyes seemed covered with a milky film, she looked blind; hell, maybe she was blind, I don't know.
I could hear murmurs echoing through the cloudy water surrounding me, and I pressed my palms against the glass panes that imprisoned me.
She pressed a tiny hand against the glass, and I could see the endless trails of blood carving patterns in blue just under her skin. She looked so small and lost right then, I pressed my hand against hers, watched her fingers curl suddenly as if she could feel my touch.
I felt a warmth spreading into my veins through the cold glass, and I could feel again, I felt alive. I knew then, I would do anything to keep that warmth, that simple feeling of being alive, even if it
HimIt always begins with him.Him by BlackNailpolishDays
"He", though arbitrary, seems to be the only way I can open up to myself. "He" being a father I had, a lover I once knew, a friend I cherished, and the son I loved. I tend to collect my thoughts pensively whilst circling the momentous impression he has left upon my person; these ordered words and ideas are outwardly meaningful only because they have been gathered in the shadow of his essence. I appear to understand my place only in relation to him. I measure my joy to the standard happiness that he created for me and judge the gravity of my sorrows to the depth at which he let me fall. I knew contentment by knowing him and destruction by losing him. He, being every man I have met and have wished to meet, makes for me the will to imagine my life with and without him.
My story always begins with my better half. My other half. My frame of reference. He is more than where I start because he is also why I begin.
Even in my languor and bitterness, mere e
• written or spoken language in its ordinary form, without metrical structure : a short story in prose | [as adj. ] a prose passage.
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fractiousnessIf you would knock on my heart todayfractiousness by miserabel
there's nothing I could possibly say
to stop you from entering.
This is exactly the kind of love I feel,
not quite strong enough to be real,
but dangerously close.
To save myself from your greedy hands -
simply hoping my heart understands -
I need this distance.
Always reminding myself of the way
you've lead all my senses astray
makes me realise -
Loving you is not worth my emotions, because
just looking at all you did and all that was
is quite enough.
You're the one I try not to think about
it hurts but I really need you to get out
of my head.
Silent Doesn't Mean Wordless.His eyes say everythingSilent Doesn't Mean Wordless. by WaKip
They scream when he cannot
Oh, and when they speak
They often say a lot
Sacrifice Returns the SoulCrying inside,Sacrifice Returns the Soul by pari-a
Begging to know
The secrets that possess you,
The thoughts behind your eyes
The locks to the happenings
Inside your mind.
But not daring to ask,
Out of fear.
Fear that you wouldn't say,
Or worse, that
You would blame
All this heartbreak on me.
Knowing in my heart
I am to blame
For this bedraggled version
Of the person you used to be.
And those beautiful eyes,
Cocoa- colored eyes,
Stare blankly ahead
Through the cracked windshield
Which is all I can offer,
Because its all I've ever had.
I can feel it,
Slowly, surely seeping away.
The emotion, the feeling
The soul in your body,
And all I have now
Is a ghost, going by your name
The name you never preferred,
The name you now obligatorily
And this ghost
Commands her fingers
To close around
A cup of cold, bitter coffee
From the convenient store
That sells lifestyles on the side.
She tells herself
Leave the store,
Walk to the car,
Sit down on the moth-eaten,
Taken by the SeaMy hope is gone, my loved ones takenTaken by the Sea by LatyreDKaos
Taken by the sea
Oh, but I wish I did not see
the horrors Mother Nature will bring
My dreams are crushed, my home is gone
Taken by the sea
The night was quiet, even serene
That night so ethereal, celestial
there was no single word, nor breath of warning
My ancestral home, taken by the sea
A rush, a tempestuous fury
Poseidon's wrath, explained
No buildings stood against destruction
All was taken by the sea
And I, I stood, an age away
Unknowing of my terrible loss
My thoughts, so shallow, warned me not
To what was taken by the sea
A newscast shook me to the core
Of a flood of my little coastal town
"There were all killed", said he,
"Taken by the sea"
poetry |ˈpōətrē; ˈpōitrē|
• literary work in which special intensity is given to the expression of feelings and ideas by the use of distinctive style and rhythm; poems collectively or as a genre of literature : he is chiefly famous for his love poetry.
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Journal of an Alien3694 the 12th, After the Tragedy (AT)Journal of an Alien by Cobrateen
Dana told me it would be helpful to further practice my Terran if I ever want to leave home and make something of myself in human territories, so I'm starting this Journal and/or Exploration Log. At first I was worried about writing so much, cause I'm not really much of a writer, but she said just do it informally, like I'm talking with a friend. So in honor of our new friendship, I'm naming you Samantha, or Sam for short. I know, it's kind of an ambiguous name, but I'm named Lee and that doesn't sound like a girl's name at all, so no complaining. Nice to meet you Sam!
I suppose if I'm writing you in Terran I'd better use the Human calendar. I'll do that from now on; today is May 7th, 2134 AC. It's funny that both the Coine calendar and the Human calendar use some big event from long ago to start the date from. The Humans use that Christ guy, and the Coine use the day their planet imploded and they set out on a journey across space
Step-SiblingsCast List:Step-Siblings by Same-side
DEGAULLE-young man, mid- to late-teens, CHARLISE's step-brother
CHARLISE-young woman, about the same age, DEGAULLE's step-sister
(Lights up on a near-empty diner. It is early in the morning, and it is still dark outside. Neon letters on the wall advertise milkshakes, fries, burgers and floats. CHARLISE is cleaning the last of the tables with a rag. A bucket sits nearby and is being used by DEGAULLE to mop the floor. The patent-leather booths, chairs and tables seem to shine from the diligently applied polish, but the decades-scuffed floor seems impenetrable to DEGAULLE's half-hearted efforts. The two teens are wearing aprons bearing the name of the establishment: "Andre-Marie's.")
How about I fix us up a milkshake when we're done, OK?
You never offer to make me a milkshake. What's going on, Char?
Nothing. Just figured you might want one. Would a float interest you, instead?
A float nah. Milkshake'll be fine. (to floor)