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StringsYou play your song well
Expertly, your fingers manipulate
The tiniest, most delicate
Strings of my heart
If you carelessly break one
Who is to know but the instrument?
Your music is my sigh
My melancholy moods
The thoughts of you
That cannot be shaken
From a tortured,
What would happen, were I
To stay your hand
And bring it to my lips?
Can I touch your strings?
Can I caress them and
Let you hear the melody they might hold?
It’s unwitting, though
This song you make
You know not that you hold the tool
You know not that you pluck the strings
And that your sure touch
Is the making and undoing of me
So, to interrupt it
With my trembling fingers
Which so long to explore your every chord
Would be to destroy the beautiful pain,
The unknowing, unwanting perfection
As you snap the string in your grasp
A StoryAlready, I am sick their affections
Bearing down on me as they do.
Can they help it?
Do they know how pathetic
Every awkward, dawdling step seems
Formed by those fleshy feet,
Guttural noises emitting from a misshapen snout.
How is it that
I, a superior being in every way
Just cannot bear a day without their stupid,
ApocalyptomaniaWe held hands as the world crashed down
Tumbling in and out of control
Strange; for once we weren't afraid
No more plans to be made
Hold me while the atmosphere
Alights all that we hold dear
So it's just you and me
Free of all the little things
Like cars and dogs and wedding rings
The ash isn't quite like snow
But baby, we still have no place to go
So let it
A Lack of SentimentalityYou gave me bitter almonds
Plain like winter leaves
And told me that you love me
Yet I clearly asked for berries
Red as desire and chocolate kissed
From where did the idea come
To bring the jar of honey
A sweetened, cheapened sentiment
Compared to the gold ring I eyed
Last Sunday when we walked the town
So take your foolish, childish gifts
And find another lover
And I shall spend St. Val's day
Dreaming of sweets and shiny, romantic things
Alone as I always do
the lost spirits
look in our windows.
Thousands of perfect
frozen like stone
on the people
with their life
(Req) Methods of Communication (Canada x Reader)
"Ahh! Oh no!"
Pausing mid-sip of your drink, you glanced up.
Matthew Williams, probably one of the most discussed guys in your year at college, was standing a ways across from where you swear, beneath a large oak tree that had likely been planted there when the college was first built. Its great height and width stood as a testament to just how much both it and the college itself had grown since their beginning. From the distance you stood, it looked like Matthew had dropped a folding, sending a wad of papers scattered about his sneakered feet like giant, grounded butterflies. He hastily crouched, grabbing at the papers haphazardly, in a desperate attempt to stop them from being swept away by the breeze snaking its way between the buildings, but taking care not to crumple or rip the pages.
One paper, however, missed his frantic fingers and zoomed off, carried away by the air current. You glanced down, jolting slightly in surprise at the paper slapped into the leg of your jeans. Bending
AlliesXDead!Reader: I didn't notice , I love you~At The Allies Meeting..........
Here we are at the Allies' Meeting well it wasn't much of a meeting all of them were just sulking. Why? Its because a girl named (y/n) had died they had accused her of killing Kyra Vaski the personification of Pangea .
Russia smelled like Vodka and the sunflowers he has have all wilted he had spent most of his days at a bar drinking until he passed out.
France had stopped flirting and smelled like vomit like Russia he drank much to his heart Content.
America had stopped calling himself a hero , he didn't even dare to eat a burger like the two he hasn't eaten anything except for beer.
England the man who claimed he was a gentleman and hated it when his brothers came home drunk but now he was drunk himself , he even burned all of his books.
And lastly China the most cheerful and self proclaimed big brother of the Asians was sad but at least he wasn't the worst the only thing he drank was water.......
The Allies were having a m
Reader x Trickster!Nepeta: Egg Coloring"EY YO BITCHIE-"
"Oh my god she's still alive are you kidding me?"
Your name is ___ ___ and your... matesprit, Nepeta Leijon, Tac as you call her, is frantically pounding on your door.
"BITCHIE LEMME IN I REALLY NEED TO MAKE PLANS WITH MEW AND YOUR CUTE BUTT."
"Do we have to?" you groaned. You were literally laying on the floor of your cute little one-story apartment. Your Siamese cat, Simi, licked your nose. Simi was fond of the troll and in return, the troll was fond of Simi.
"Uh. Well not really but I'd sure as hell purrefur mew did." you heard her make a face. "And befur mew ask, no I didn't kill anyone this time. Da po-po let me furreeeeee~" the Trickster chirped.
"Fine." you simply said, wiggling over to the door and sitting up, staring at the oversized wood plank. "What's the password?"
"THERE'S A PASSWORD?!"
You stifled a laugh, merely smirking and standing up, stepping back to dodge the olive blood's attempted tackle-pounce as you opened the door. "Hello t
A Southern Story: Chelsea at the supermarketHey! How you doing, I haven’t seen you since before the reception!
Aww, that’s good to hear, glad everything’s going okay for you! Me? Oh, I’m just bracing myself for this coming football season. I got stuck in charge of the cheerleaders again, and you know how that turned out LAST year. Put all that effort into getting skinny, ah, well, you know, not quite so hugely fat, and they all looked at me doing that and went back to stuffing their faces.
I’ve already made up my mind, I’m not even going to try this year to make these girls lose any weight. It's down to them, if they want to look good, they can stop stuffing their greedy little faces. If they want to make terrible messes out of themselves, then go ahead, have that fourth plate of nachos. I’m just gonna sit back and let them do it.
We had our first meeting last week and guess who just waltzed in ten minutes late, shoving a Hershey’s bar in her face? Kaitlyn O’Leary, reme
Easter Sexy - TGMy mother buttoned up my shirt, shaking her head because I kept pulling away. I hated having my shirt buttoned up, so I would always undo the buttons. Before I could undo them, my mother handed me a little green weaved basket with my name on the side. Immediately, I knew what time it was and I jumped in place. “Easter eggs, Easter eggs, Easter eggs!”
My mother laughed and my shirt into my jeans, kissing my forehead and standing up, taking my tiny hand. “Yes, it’s time for the Easter egg hunt, and this year we hid more eggs than we have ever done before. So hopefully you get lots and lots of candy.” Her comment just made me pull on her arm harder, wanting her to start moving. “Alright, calm down Jacob.”
Finally, my mother started moving out of the room and where all of my cousins were waiting. I broke away from my mom and ran to my favorite cousin, Elise. We hugged each other and started telling stories while we waited for our aunts and uncles t
A Southern Story: Tori's RealizationOh, hey.
Ah, nothing much, I just figured, you know. It's a nice day to do some sunbathing, better not waste it. What's up with you? How you been?
Ah, good for you, glad to see SOMEBODY'S been having a good time recently. . .
Ah, no, no, it's nothing big, I've just been having a rough time the past few months.
You probably heard by now, right? Well. . . It's true, I broke 200 pounds. That's old news, though.
You want to know about the most RECENT kick in my super-sized ass? Well. . . Eh, screw it, it's not like you won't hear it from someone else anyway.
I went to the doctor the other day, already knowing I was over 200, I'd weighed myself a few weeks before, and I was something like 202. That was bad, you know, I had a whole “OH MY GOD I BROKE 200!' thing. Elizabeth being Elizabeth, she had to mess with me, throw me a party to celebrate my being fat, but honestly, I kind of chalked it up to, I dunno, natural weight fluctuations or something, but what that doctor was tellin
The Shrine Maiden
It was a cold December night. At an old shrine by a river, drummers beat an ancient rhythm. Lanterns burned brightly, illuminating the paths between the many stalls hastily assembled around it. Children flocked from game to game, an old priest sold protective amulets, and local artists displayed their work. Schoolgirls trilled like songbirds. A young couple shared an order of takoyaki. My stomach rumbled, reminding me I hadn't eaten that day.
At the time, I was a young freeter, drifting from job to job with the seasons. My previous employer had let me go two weeks before the festival, and my savings were running low. Even the internet cafe where I usually slept would become too expensive before long. Needless to say, I hadn't stopped by the festival to sample its overpriced food and souvenirs. I had a different objective in mind.
On most nights, the shrine grounds had no cover to hide a 174-cm man with a backpack. On mos
Levi x Reader: After All This Time? (10) It was an early morning. A girl no less than 10 woke up. She yawned in her bed, the early morning rays breaching her small window. She was very beautiful and mature for the early age of 10. But she was sick. Not the sickness which attaches itself to the body though. It was a sickness of the mind. And where sickness thrives, bad things will follow (A/N: Any fans of 'The Hobbit' reading this?'). Under that sweet, adorable exterior; was a dangerous creature.
She went down her bed, quietly as to not wake up her sleeping brother in the other room. She was going to check if her mother was home. Due to her job at the local hospital, she would come home late at times. She approached her parents' room when she heard noises. They were quite familiar to her ears by the time, but she wanted to see if the story was any different. She opened the door slightly, allowing her eyes to take in the scene before her. It was her father, Lewis in bed w
Mother and Daughter Moment: The Escape ArtistYeah, I know I broke my own rule with that last story – let’s just say it was a rare aberration. They do happen from time to time, you know – in the same way that, just occasionally, I find myself challenged in other ways.
A few years back, I was in Kensington High Street, doing a little window shopping when I saw this mother walking past, carrying some designer bags. She was about five eleven in height, with blonde hair that fell down her back, and wore a black sweater, blue jeans and knee length black leather boots with the cuffs turned down.
Her daughter was about fifteen years old, and also had long blonde hair. She was wearing a black short sleeved top over a long sleeved green one, blue denim shorts over black leggings, and black Ugg boots. She was talking to her mum as she passed me, about the nice new earrings that she had bought for her.
They seemed to me a typical Kensington mum and daughter, and the bags they were carrying suggested
Full Danging drops glaimed me, grabbed at my hair with igy fingers until I gould go no more. Winded, weary, I fell to the earth with a gry. The mud sugked and smagked, a stigky embrage that held me to it even as I struggled to free a leg, a hand, a limb that hadn't so gallously abandoned the form it onge galled master. It was fear, then, that found me. Madness, too. Gan the best of us glaim to be free of weakness? Gan the best of us resist the urge to gry when we've disgovered the endmost limits of our resolve?
Exhaustion threatened to drag me, heavy, into the very bosom of the Earth. I finally gave up the fight for good. The darkness reaghed for me and I welgomed it, too tired to gontinue with this farge.
"Damn you, Ghinese food." I gursed softly as I sank slowly into the abyss.
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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