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this separation is only temporaryI press my lips to the moon and wish her a good day
sweet dreams and sleep tight
I don't want her to be lonely and forgotten
know we are only parted for a moment
and we will meet again when the stars shine
and the shadows grow cold
reach for the stars they saiddead roses in empty bottles-
the manifesto of destitution
desperation, and dirty alleys
the question is not whether to be
or to not to be
but whether we will be or were
were we fools digging for
gold in a dumpster?
looking for beauty in our lies
we all have the potential to be something
but something is just a word, not a life
wanderlustyou belong somewhere between the
ocean and the sun, something evanescent,
continually moving and crossing the beams
connecting reality and the unfathomable,
with the moon shining on and tiding you over
to me in the bright light of the dark,
and then continuing to cross the gulfs
with empty mouths screaming your name
and pouring into ancient forests perpetuated
by lost lore and your sense of loyalty
why are we here?I watch the stars pass by and
I wonder if I am even here at all
as a child, I used to think my life
was written in a story book
screaming for someone to let me out
so I would never have to end
and I never thought
of how I began or what my story was
we're too concerned with the words
we want to finish and yet ignore
the ones we are saying right now
don't care how we present ourselves
obsessed with dying and it's beauty
afraid of living and of what makes it ugly
are we even living?
do the stars care if we're here?
do they even notice us?
no matter what I tell myself,I wish beauty didn't cost so much
my fingertips, dipped in tan liquid
painting my chin, eyes, and cheekbones
hiding the spots, the dips, the morning
blooming on my face
ready for that 3am coffee stop, the eight hours
of nothing in the back corner of the store
the perfect picture of a distorted image
cracked glass under a fresh coat of war paint
and they dare tell me gorgeous, pretty, like their
overused words are good enough payment
like I am getting my self-worth back
from this toxic investment
as if pain is only a dropped penny in the street
washed down a drain and forgotten in the rain
but each stroke as I brush my hair reminds me,
each knot and snarl jarring me to reality
my nose is too long, my face too square and I
look freakish whenever I put my soft curls up
and those ten, fifteen, twenty pounds I gained
stole away my figure like a runaway child....
I wish beauty didn't hurt so much
your heart (...)Girls
hearts are not like candy,
you can't buy them at a store, and
they are not meant to be eaten-
watch those assholes choke on bad blood
and the memories you want to forget-
you have a priceless jewel in your chest
and it's the key to your soul
treat it like you would your mother or sister;
love it and watch it grow old
bury it in a coffin and have a memorial each year
to commemorate the sacrifices it made
cherish it and the flowers it grew
Second Chances Ch. 3 Chapter 3
Mornings are painful. I think it as I take another drag of my cigarette. Back aches, stomach aches, head aches, aches in general...waking up is a terrible act of life, and I wish it wasn't necessary. I look around my crappy apartment kitchen from the window I'm sitting in. Shit, this place is a mess. No wonder I hate waking up, I have to look at this everyday.
no more anthems, I want to hear the truthhail to the v and the memories made
hail to the words whispered on the bed side,
the morning getaway, and breakfast's bloody mary
hail to the last minute regret and the unanswered phone calls
the midnight confessions to friends and strangers in the dark rooms
(yeah, we can party like we just don't care, but hearts remember
and scars don't fade into nothing)*
*sometimes we have to grow up and learn to be more than pretty
mannequins dancing in the spotlights-
we're human and when the music ends, we have to face the consequences
of trying to melt our sins away
I'm tired of being aloneI don't care about them anymore
but old possibilities haunt me
ghosts reminding me I screwed up
and my heart is barren of another to love
and may yet be for a long time
when will I conquer my fears and learn
to open the door to let others in?
when will I finally step outside and
not be afraid of the rain?
stupid love poems for stupid boys.he was the
smoke in my
saved for when
i'm so lonely
that i cannot
but the problem
with giving your
heart to a boy
with a pack of
for ribs is that
he will want your
well– and after
all that blood and
blue lip kisses,
he will leave you
with a coughing
lighter and a
burnt tongue (but
it's really a great
Soles (Forest Girl)Soles (Forest Girl)
i didn’t believe in carving initials into trees.
i always told you that was corny to me.
i told you i was a city boy,
comfortable in car drafts
and gleaming lights
that dilute natural shine.
to the sight of airplanes,
police cars and helicopters
than anything else.
but you dreamed of wings
so much bigger than aspect ratio,
so much wider.
you were higher.
so that day you took me there,
i knew i was out of my element.
your forest stories teased me;
sitting on the edge of your shoe soles.
and that riverbank that you tiptoed on.
little smirk always flashing your white pearls
when you were whisking through this place.
holding my hand in a tight grip
as you gave me a tour of your hidden burrow.
i had never been so in--
and out of place before.
the atmosphere was brisk
glancing the hairs on my neck,
goosebumps rising on my skin
as i swore feathers fell from your shoulders.
purple streaks nuzzle orange bands
that hold together golden twines
The Cracks Of RealityI traced the tips of my fingers over her porcelain
Felt the skin raise in bumps of sensation.
My mouth fit so well into the crook of her neck
And as her her eyes closed, her breathing shaky,
I found myself swallowing and my heart beating twice as fast.
As her hips rolled into me, as her nails clenched into the sheets,
She told me once more that she loved me, and I assured her I felt the same.
But then reality came, settling into the cracks of my fantasies.
And she slipped from my fingers.
And I was alone.
homesick for childhoodshe was a carefree little girl
with smiles hidden deep down
in her pockets, and she'd only
give them out to the most deserving.
when the quarter hour of her life
struck, however, things changed.
her world was painted black
on accident, millions of shades
turned ashy due to a sickness
that breeds on those empty
spaces between words.
she was dropped into summer
covered in homemade scars,
and with summer, her innocence
was eaten away.
pinned to a bed
like prey, she watched herself
consumed into another
(this world is the 7 a.m. frost
left on winter windows.
and it scares me)
the days spent on the front stepsevery time you rip the lid off
the shell of styrofoam
questions your motives.
every secret you whisper into her naphthalene
stays there. it dies a little
as protein is scrambled. home is not a place.
her curve is ejected
as unidentified. it is bile
rolling back, the sheet of ebbing tide.
you always speak of horses
armoured, whisky clattering on their breath,
kingdoms burning and knights
riding off into the valley of deep sleep
you always speak of ships
leaving, pearly cord
as a farewell extending from coast
to hull forming an image of crying Mary
it shines in front of you
it calls out your name
but he loves meshe says, "sweets, pay attention:
just because he kisses the bruises on your skin,
don't make up for the fact he gives 'em to you."
untitled.these boys and
lips split, eyes
turning gold in my
i watch them trace
this is where
come from– and as
their road ways, i
e y e l a s h e s
in such a way that
stories fall out of the
Why do you judge?Why do you have the need to judge with your signs?
Do you even know why I am here?
Am I here just because I do not want the responsibility to be a mom?
Am I here because I am not in the right place in my life where I can take care of a child?
Or am I here because I was raped and he didn't use a condom?
Don't you know it is going to hurt me in the long run after I do this?
So how do you sit there with your sings and judge people?
yahwehIn fifteen hours I will be strung, pelvis
to sternum, ready to be struck
stomach aching to sing -
There was once when I was whole,
full and stretched to breaking,
I have been a giant in my own skin &
I was not enough to be loved.
& now, finger to thumb, you
swallow my spine in your palms
play my bones,
play my bones,
play my bones //
I am rising to throb
& thud & thrum
of pulse and breath and music
of mantra spilt-spoken,
smeared sacred over wrists
written with sweat & sex,
Muscles tensed for every chord,
Herein is the hallelujah -
You alone, you alone, you,
Hollow my belly and carve me
until I am fluted, crying out
between your hands
I have been too much to love,
every wire & tendon pulled loose
, I have been too much
& now you are here
& you play my bones
until the giant in my skin
becomes a rhythm
until I finally feel
I am enough!
You move me,
spine swallowed and sequestered,
I become holy beneath you
I was too much to love:
LucyHer eyes lit with hope
The dark oppressing the single flame
Small boots loud on the wooden floor
Quietly making her way through the winding halls
She searches for the one room.
"Nonsense" they told her "Quit lying"
They did not believe her, they did not even listen!
They could no longer be curious
The war had taken their innocence, their childhood
Not her, she would not let go
She would hold on, fight with nail and tooth
She would war with War, and she would win
Her world would be her weapon
She found the doorway
Crept into the thick darkness
No life was thrumming this time
It was just her and the small flame of hope
It was enough to cast a light pallor
Unto the gleaming mahogany
Her breath quickened, her heart stuttered
Her hands shook as she twisted the dull brass
The wood opened before her
A cool breath blew out the flame
Her eyes widened felicitously
Hope thrived in this dark room
She entered the wood
To embrace her innocent destiny
Nervous MovementYou're a dime a dozen in a sea of billions.
Individuality has no significance in numbers so vast.
And while this fact makes looking forward hard
we can't keep living in the past.
You're a nervous movement in a freeze frame scene.
Steady hands won't help hold up such a fragile act.
And while you take your time keeping character
you fake what you can't take back.
With nothing more than a thought we form our actions
and this is where we extinguish the lie they tried to invent.
The lie that we painted our lives without passion
well conclusions are useless with no attempt to commence.
You're a song I can't name stuck in my head.
I've listened to you before and probably will again.
And while I can hum the melody all day long waiting
for it to hit me I still won't know where you've been.
You're a gust that has never changed direction.
Nothing can touch you you're only felt as you brush skin.
And while you can't be stopped nothing lasts
nothing escapes time not even the wind.
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Endorell-Taelos is very well known within the community for her selfless giving and gracious community spirit. Since joining DeviantART over seven years ago, Alicia has continued to make a positive impact on many deviants. Her helpful and thoughtful approach was one of her finest attributes when serving as a Community Volunteer, and this has continued throughout the many contests which Alicia provides on a regular basis. As we approach our Birthday celebrations, we can't... Read More