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O.K.The crack in my chest is only getting bigger
The tears won't stop flowing
The memories of you just won't go away.
This pain just won't cease.
I can't take it anymore.
Everytime I see your photo
It makes me dissolve
Into another Sea of Tears.
Sharp pains again
Hole in me is growing.
Larger and Larger
With each moment,
I remember of you.
Its been so long.
So long since I have
Heard your voice.
Seen you smile.
Felt your warmth.
Worried for you.
Please make this pain go away.
Take my memories
Take my tears
Fix this crack
Make everything ok.
Make me Ok.
Homeward BoundCold bitter winds, as bitter of the faces
Of the inhabitants,of a city crying for salvation.
How I long for the bright sunlight
And the sweet smell of fresh clean air.
Yearning for times long gone.
The Past that can never return.
The darkness creeps upon my mind.
Slowly I grow weaker, succumbing to It's seduction.
It's deceit eludes my guard.
Preying on my lost soul.
I claw and struggle to find a away out.
To return to the crisp breezes I once knew.
The light that caressed me.
To return to a memory.
Demons at every turn. Leering.
Can I escape?
Or do I escape because I don't want to?
The doubts and fears turn my blood to ice.
At the thought of giving up.
Every kind word.
Every gesture of kindness
Every understanding look.
Or is it?
I am told.
My chest is in pain.
My legs are numb.
My world goes black.
My eyes see blurred faces around me.
Kind Faces. Familiar Faces
I dare to take a breath.
Still FallingA breeze travels through the air.
You have a smile on your face
As you hold me closer.
Kiss me gently on my lips.
My support though everything.
I will never let you go.
We joke and we smile.
Over memories from long ago.
And even some recent.
Enjoying the company of one another.
You kisses are what get me though the rough work days
Your cynical wit gets me though the drama and false friends.
You make me think reasonably.
You make me weak in my knees.
I hold you closer to me.
I can't let you go yet.
I cuddle closer.
And you snuggle right back.
Making me feel safe.
MirrorsWhat is that I see in the mirror?
Surely that cannot be me.
Its so different than the me I have known for so many years.
I remember hair thick, pulled back,
Eyes pleading to be loved.
Muffing Tops and Buns.
That is the me I remember.
I look again at the model before me.
Smiling her pearly whites.
Hair stylishly in her face.
Body and looks to Kill
Outfit to die for.
Which is me?
Or is this just a dream?
Or a possibly a reality?
Or a past?
No more scars,
No more Acne.
I want to be this so badly.
What if this isn't me?
I Miss You.I find myself mesmerized by the skies of white and blue.
I can't help but look at every American flag on the side of the road.
Thinking of what you lived, you breathed, and you loved, for 21 years.
You loved freedom.
You loved life.
You loved making yourself known.
That's why I miss you so.
I see you everywhere I go.
I can't run away.
I miss you, why can't you come back?
21 years wasted in this world,
I am missing a part of myself.
Time and Time AgainSnow is fluttering to the grown.
Staining the green with its cleanliness.
Its white is so pure, so fresh.
Never stepped in before.
I look away from the snow for only a moment.
And in that moment it was like I was born a new.
My eyes cannot leave it.
Because I am looking at you.
Your eyes bore into mine.
They are such a beautiful blue.
I find myself trapped.
Yet I do not mind.
I want you to keep me forever.
I want to wake up every morning
And find you there.
Time and time again, I want to see your face.
Time and Time again I want to be held in your arms.
Time and Time again I want to feel your kisses.
Time and time again...
I want to look at you like it was the first time
cosmic lattesmall town diner jukebox
casts 90's pop songs on a loop
across creaking hardwood
and paisley-print cushions;
there's a mustard stain
on the waitress's checkerboard apron,
a run in her hose
and fingernail polish flaking like dandruff
into the burly corner booth truck driver's
scrambled egg whites and hash, hold the salt.
if this were wednesday, the perky brunette
would be disheveled, sobbing
into her on-again off-again's embroidered handkerchief
while your food waits, forgotten, in the window...
but it's thursday and they've made up
and his breath is only slightly tainted by his addictions.
instead, she flits a smirk at you
over the pages of the novel
you hope you're hiding well behind
and fills your cup to sloshing
free of charge.
when you add creamer,
it looks like the universe
opening to you.
The DoubterThe Doubter
One Day Someone Will Come To Doubt You.
He Will Insist!
You Gonna Hate Him For This,
If You Don't Love Him.
He Already Loves You,
He Just Doesn't Know It Yet.
He Will Know, When He Meets You.
For You I Don't Know More,
You Gonna Hate Him,
If You Don't Love Him.
lone wolf is wholesome
as his body is pressed,
pierced, and perforated.
rib cage curls like fingers
as crimson nail polish
paint the tips.
nailed to the wall like game,
sanguine saliva drips
from its snarling lips.
eyes shut tight
as its frame is contorted
like abstract art,
pen his heart in ink
or permanent marker.
knees skinned like a child
his body idle as the soul vibrates
while his inners regurgitate,
morbidity slivers down his legs
white fur stains read by death
as it plays necromancer.
the pack may not walk with you
but the moon hums with the owl orchestra.
your grey specks toying with ivory fur
kissed by red cartilage edges.
fade away as your puzzle
finally becomes wholesome
you feed raw meat to lions,
i feed raw me to liars-
the crowds line-in like
they’re ready to witness
me eat crow feet like i’m lyin’,
but these eyes are tired
of watching the vultures
masquerade as innocent crows
when the flock is called a murder.
and these crimes are unaccounted for
because we don’t realize what they’re killing
are the lion-hearted and eating the carcass,
leaving souls to float in the desert
while frames play bowls to a heartless dessert.
deserted bones tumbling like weeds
in the dead glass,
and lightning doesn’t strike
in the same place twice,
so don’t expect quartz here.
the law of living has no courts here
and karma is no judge
because there are no sentences
being placed on the objects
that subject you to the adjective of their
their words unnecessary,
excessive when the circle has begun.
wing disks spinning, dizzying,
dazzling, dying down
through dirt tolls
because we all have to pay
Writer's AuraWhat would you say if I told you that paper had an aura?
The interesting thing about it is that I’m telling half the truth.
Paper can only have an aura when it’s in someone’s hands
And being recited by the very person that wrote it.
The aura of the paper comes from the person, strengthening the sheet’s purpose.
Strengthening the person.
But how, you might ask?
How can a person give a flimsy object like paper an aura?
I have done so several times, so I shall tell you.
The people-those like me-that can do this are called Writers.
Every word-every letter-from a Writer’s hand that falls onto the paper…
It has its own life.
Losing one letter can make an entire story unravel.
Make a poem’s meaning drop.
Make a sheet of paper…meaningless.
And by extension, for that moment, the Writer’s life means nothing.
A small mistake, however, isn’t as large a mockery to us as a blank, white sheet of paper.
Both it and the Writer cry out, begging
A StoryLovely features rest
In a crystalized tomb
Adorned in roaming ivy
Locked in silver moonlight
Approaches handsome figure
With weary leather boots
Having rode his way there
Searching for treasures to loot
Coming to the crossroads
The two strangers meet
One forever locked in
Curse's dreamless sleep
Figure draws near
Pearlescent glass gleams
Stretching out his hand
He sees the beauty skin-deep
Instead of acting as a story
A fairytale kept in time
The figure walks away
Deciding corpses should be kept
Out of the sunlight
+my mother always told me
to make good choices
and although she tried to teach me
i never learned the difference
between good choices and easy ones
and i think that’s why i’m still here,
because most days it’s harder to think about
what my mother would say at my funeral
than it is to keep breathing
AnswersI know I am the one that is trying to find answers to all these questions But I am scared
I do not know what the answer is going to be
Am I going to be sad, hurt, pissed, scared
I do not know
At this moment I just know that I am tired of wondering and want answers to my life
The PlayThe air is frigid, and snow covers all.
I freeze in my footsteps,
Surrounded by white I am
I feel misplaced, and oh so wrong.
the only darkness in this purity.
The only flaw, on this perfect Stage.
The only one who doesnt know thier lines.
In this play of perfection.
Constantly making mistakes,
Never being good enough.
Again and again, I rehearse,
Retrace the steps, repeat the lines.
They go through my head,
The way the blood goes thorugh my veins,
In order to seek approval,
This is what I must do.
I go to the first scene,
Taking my place on the stage,
The curtain begins to rise.
So many thoughts go through my head,
Snow litters the stage
It goes cold.
I begin to move in my dark Attire.
Everyone begins to move in the dance.
I step out and continue on my own.
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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