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jugendliche.i.) die Bekennende
Du bist meine Liebe, meine Engel in der Nacht.
Die Sonne scheint so hell fuer uns, du kuesst mich und sagt,
"Kannst du bitte halt mein Hand?"
Ich kuesse dich, weil ich weiss ich kann.
Ich hoffe, du weisst, du bist wirklich schoen.
Alles, ich kann sagen ist "ich brauche dich so gern."
Meine Liebe fuer dich ist sehr gross, ich bitte zu sein.
Immer Ihren Liebling, damit du mein sein.
ii.) die Sehnsucht
Sie ist so viel staerker als ich.
Sie leuchtet den Raum und ich fuehle mich
Als wuerde ich tiefer fallen in der Liebe.
Ich denke, das sind Liebhaber oder Taschendiebe?
Aber sie ist so anders, so perfekt und Art ist.
Es scheint, sie fühlt sich nicht Zwist.
Ich will nur ihre Hand zu Halten,
Aber das ist nicht etwas, was ich ganz einfach verwalten.
Sie hat eine andere, obwohl sie liebt mich mehr
Und ich weiss, ich liebe sie ebensosehr.
A Little Bit Like Crazy: Chapter 4.1chapter four
“is astrid your girlfriend?” keillan asked me unexpectedly at our breakfast. i nearly choked on my chocolate milk.
“what the heck, kiddo?” i tried to laugh but it just came out really uncomfortable sounding. “of course she isn’t.”
“well, was she?” his insight never ceased to amaze me. his eyes were large and intent, as if he’d thought about this for a long time.
“what even would make you think that, keillan?” i appeared composed. it was still way too soon for me to answer questions about astrid. “you’ve known me your whole life. that’s the most peculiar thing to ever come out of your mouth.” i was avoiding eye contact. keillan’s got this way of making you feel totally at ease with even the most uncomfortable of topics. i guess it’s a good trait to have.
“okay, you guys are always talking about
A Little Bit Like Crazy: Chapter 3.1Chapter Three
The only person that was at home when I arrived back was my sister Brinley, a spoiled fifteen-year-old with a penchant for making my life miserable. She was lying on the sofa Daisy Buchanan-style, sprawled lazily reading a fashion magazine.
“You’re home late,” she grumbled, not even having the decency to lift her eyes from the gossip column. “How was your drunken rave last night?” Her words were dripping with sarcasm, a smirk on her lips. She genuinely repulsed me.
“You didn’t,” I spat gruffly in her direction, wide-eyes full of anger. “You did not see anything.” I was terrified, not that she had seen, but that she had shown our parents.
“Au contraire, my dear sister,” she chuckled nonchalantly. “I especially liked the one of you smashing a beer bottle into Mrs. McCartney’s heirloom china vase.”
“Brin, you wouldn’t dare,
fresh.don't look at me.
every time you do i see her.
you look just like her, but
shorter thinner sweeter
younger. you are so much younger.
you're nowhere near as naive.
innocent is not in your expansive
vocabulary. your voice is both
agonizing and intoxicating.
we used to lie next to each
other, hold hands and harmonize.
you held me when i cried
and laughed at my cheesy jokes.
now you have gone. you don't
even speak to me, no choral context.
but you look at me. and you smile.
and you make me feel so fresh,
don't ever leave my side.
a memoir of a butterfly.her memory is like a dead mockingbird.
something so beautiful, but remnants
scatter in the wind, unable to
comprehend whether it was deserved
perishing or a mistake.
will you remember in twenty
years, or twenty months, twenty
goddamn seconds, or will she
fade like the fluttering feathers
of the bird shot down in anguish?
can you kiss yourself goodnight
because her butterflies will never
again land on your fleshy lips?
laugh to keep from crying, cry
to keep for being numb,
pretending her presence was
that of a ghost inside a dream.
cover your wrists in gauze and
guilt to prevent moral infection,
feign disinterest when she bites
her lips, don't crave to be the
one biting back, because you'll
only be chewing yourself out.
don't look directly at her, she
is a sapphic eclipse, tease
me with your sloping neck,
tease me with your impeccable
jawline, hazel eyes and
crooked nose, a sweet breathiness
achieved by her trembling,
raspy alto, how i want to
press my mouth to hers and utter
the cure for romantic epilepsy is you.lighthearted heartthrobs
leave me tenderhearted for
the moment, callously discarded
when the brokenhearted relapses
occur and my heartache is just
a simple subtraction amongst
the breakage and blood pumping.
can you heal me? can you heal you?
do you know how to divide me
into the good, the bad, and the
parts that get too clingy?
can you tell me what it is
that keeps you clinging?
your body is like a metronome,
and i just want to move
to your tempo, you envelope
me with your beautiful
lyricism and lips like a rose.
hands hold like roping soliloquies
of the what-ifs and what-nows,
they're clenching like we're
on a roller coaster and i just
want to hold on to you, if
i could kiss you would i be
considered lucky or a casualty?
i want to peruse the inky pages
of your loitered soul, picking
up the pieces because something
as beautiful as you doesn't
deserve to be littered.
all i want you to do is stand
near me, not even next to me,
because the glow of your glower
is gorgeous even in your mos
drowned.this ice is getting thinner
and i keep feeling like i'm
about to fall through. i just
wanted you to envelope me in
your harmony, sweet kisses
making the syncopation
between broken glass and
heart pieces, shattered
with lips uttering breathlessly.
i wanted to be warmed by
the sound of your melodies,
you told me of my beauties
and i believed you, remember
that my soul is fragile and
that suicide and silence
start and end the same way.
keep in mind when you told
me how much you cared and
how much i hope you realized
at this point the water is
freezing and i can't swim.
love like remission.everybody says that
i'm a specific type. i
think that's just an
excuse to say there's
really no chance i can
ever be loved. keep saying
that i'm beautiful, keep
saying that i'm good.
do you really think i
believe any of that? i'm
trying to turn a new
page, cleanse the wounds
she caused me, and now
i don't know which way
to turn because neither
path is paved for me and
neither door is open. i
wish i could say it was
easy but i can feel it
coming back, steadily like
a creeping animal ready
to pounce on my freshly-
healed heart and soul.
everyone says i have a type.
i believe that in a
heartbeat because each
heart that beats next to
mine is sweet in the melody.
i don't have my choice of
the picking but i can
pretend to be free of this
illness, relapsing on
romanticism and using stoicism
as a crutch, this wall i
put up can be broken down
by whoever's love is strong
enough. someone, take my hand
and lead me through the disease.
he leaves with his parents
i think of rushing after him and saying goodbye
and the blow from the absurdity
almost knocks me back into someone else
my fingers freeze and i feel my lungs grow corrupted
but i breathe steadily and try to think about the new year
i feel a sense of dread growing
and the world continues
a chase of laughter and solitary sadness flung together
a sour mix that doesn't sit well on my tongue
frost slicks itself onto my curb
and i find myself hanging on for dear life
not much of a life though
and i can feel my ribs becoming brittle and broken
but no one knows
the air is heavy with heartbreak
most days i want to lie on the floor
and never wake up again
there is not much to say about january
it is so ... january
the scent of him still clings to my skin
it's a voucher, a token
a little souvenir from last year's love
it has been three or four months
part of me is becoming restless
In Her EmbraceThe room is dim, but soft is candlelight.
So soon outmatched by her inner radiance.
For the glow in her soul exiles the shadows
And brightens the opaque path of night.
She is truly the light on the darker side of me,
The ghosts and demons of my nightmares
Lay vanquished by her smile
In her embrace, I surrender.
Her whispering breath speaks of serenity
And in her eyes, I can see eternity.
There is a sense of belonging in her embrace,
And those three oft-repeated words are abridged in one kiss.
The faintest feeling is felt at first sight
Only to fade in a heartbeat
But the feeling can come back, and before you realise it
You cannot go back...and never want to.
what words cannot describe.they say a picture
is worth a thousand words,
but when i see your face
a million praises
rush to my lips.
and yet when you're standing
right before me
with those pale eyes glowing
my throat is locked
and i am speechless,
is so vague
compared to you.
Love isn't beautiful,
Nor isn't bad,
It is usually both,
A mixture of feelings,
Some people decide to show love with care,
Others want to be selfish and make them do all the work,
It never works out...
Some people wake up in the morning feeling good inside,
To cherish their love for the person they love most.
Some people wake up and wish they can start over,
To die and wake up to a new life.
To start over.
Love is hot,
Love is cold,
Love is poison.
Love is evil,
When love is good,
But what is important is.....
Love isn't perfect
You, me and simple us.Roses are the desire,
from the thorns that enclose them,
from me to you,
from the violets that bleed unknown,
from the love of mine to yours.
Though I've only known you for a while,
Our thoughts are enlaced in our timelines.
Even as I live to this hour,
I recall the moments spent together,
You, me and simple us.
The reminiscent of the distant future,
It is a simple reminder of us,
Heartache we learned,
distance we learned to keep
I recall the moments spent together,
You, me and simple us.
I've been having the dreams
I don't see his face
I see his back
All I see is him
His hair is blue
Does it mean that I miss him?
When I think of him
I start to cry
He has my heart
And he always will
It's his, and only his
creepypasion(fanfic ben x jeff) capitulo 10Capítulo 10: la carta de violeta.
Luego de haber tomado un baño y de haberse vestido ben entro a su habitación, se encontró con un desastre que había hecho violeta; sus videojuegos estaban regados por el suelo, sus distintas consolas estaban desordenadas, su ropa rota y en mal estado, y se notaba que habían estado saltando en su cama.
-¡JEFF, VEN A VER LO QUE HIZO TU AMIGA!- grito ben con rabia
Jeff llego al cuarto y se sorprendió al ver el desastre del cuarto, de seguro que ben lo obligaría a limpiar todo. Entonces vio que sobre la cama de ben había un sobre pequeño adornado con la flor que usaba violeta cuando la conoció.
-¿Qué es eso?- dijo Jeff acercándose para tomar el sobre
-es una carta pero ¿Qué hace aquí en mi cuarto?-dijo ben sentándose en la cama
Jeff saco su cuchillo y con el abrió el sobre del cual saco una cadena de oro con el nombre d
Gaze of an AngelYour words of grace and true compassion;
They light up my world like a thousand suns.
Your gleaming, beautiful smile;
It makes me see the world in a clearer light.
Your magnificent, perfect eyes;
They allow me to see through the gaze of an angel.
These words, oh, these words..
They soothe me like the moonlit sky.
As we dance underneath the starlit moon,
Our eyes meet one more time;
We lean in and our lips meet.
This is my dream,
This is my salvation,
This is my everlasting joy.
Your beautiful soul is what makes me whole.
Shall I love you forevermore?
The answer will always be yes.
Your HandsI remember when your hands
Were intertwined with mine,
Twisting, turning, constant
Yearning to know exactly
What this was, this feeling
I'm learning to cope with.
I never liked holding hands,
For in the hands the heart
Is held, folding fingers
Over one another's was never
That appealing to me, but you.
You kept my head reeling,
Returning for more, I would
Soar as your hands wrapped
'Round my body, discerning
Why this felt so new, a few
Had called me cute before,
Why is it different when
You say I'm beautiful?
Now, it's all changed, it's
Over, you were the reason
I felt this switch, a changing
Season, you said the words,
"I love you." You said it to
Me, you see, I take things
Like that pretty seriously.
You caused me such grief, a
Relief now knowing you aren't
As great as you think you are,
I'm far changed from those days,
I don't hate you. But I don't
Miss you, or to kiss you. I was
Happy to dismiss you, but I miss
Your hands intertwined with mine.
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More