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you're the reason for my fraying edgesA piece of me snagged
on your fingertips, now
I'm spending the rest
of my life unraveling
About a girl(French version below)
Naiad, braving the tumultuous streams without risk
Your crystalline beauty illuminates these shabby, spineless and muddy reeds,
The softness of your skin like a caress that even the sea air couldn't bring me;
Oh My, I'd like to snatch this ivy leaf which covers you way too much!
I accomplished the most perilous labour just by staring at you;
My Hesperide, your breathtakingly high curves entice this pilgrim, blinded mortal,
And force naked and fool men to carry their own Iliad out to conquer you.
The singing of your voice shall guide us through this long, calm watercourse to the Elysium.
Your smile, forbidden sin, makes me break all my oathes.
For a brief moment, I vow to let myself be fooled by these pipe dreams of fantasy -
I want to dedicate this lyric song you've inspired me to the Gods, Polyhymnia,
You got me sailing on the river of dreams.
About a girl
Naïade, bravant sans péril les flots tumultueux
My Dark OneMeet me near the
Drape me in your
Only you can give
Never forget our
Seeing GhostsBefore the mirror she is seated,
the beauty that she sees before her
confounds her hesitant gaze.
Her reflection too
seems to keep her eyes averted,
as though she also possessed
the gift of sight, liveliness
of mind. Sentient she might be
and see too clearly how
that captivating face
had only eyes and love for her,
who was only a figment,
the stuff of unreality!
Both gazers blinded by their vision,
by eyes much too expressive,
by the ache of unattainable yearning
- much too intense for either gaze to meet.
PermanenceNot a day goes by that I do not think if you. That I do not wish to hold you close and never let go. I never thought I'd be so happy. So happy and in love. So joyful in life.
You've changed me for the better in more ways than you could ever know.
It'd probably take an eternity to explain how much I love you. I couldn't express said emotions. The feeling of longing and devotion rather well. The feeling of never wanting to let go.
I've never been one for sappy love letters and long winding esoteric lectures ,yet I'm writing this. I'm a walking contradiction.
I've never been one for romantic things , yet my words are flowing through my veins so poeticly. Like an electric current of passion. A sea of never ending happiness.
You're the only person who could make me feel this way.
I long to embrace you more than life itself. Without you ,my heart has no meaning. It beats as I breathe. It beats with a feverish pace. An unwilling desire to never end.
Guardian AngelLet me kiss your heart,
to take all your pain away.
Let me hug you
to make you feel safe.
Let me kiss your eyes,
to drink your tears and wipe them away.
Let me touch your soul,
and fill it with my love.
Let me be your only guardian angel,
ready to protect you till the end.
LanyingThe morning is cold and unwelcoming in this
part of town where the yellow hills slant
and the flowers grow; unnamed
and unrecognized by scholars, herbalists.
I roll out of bed and walk; barefoot,
to the veranda, feed the baby wrens
that come to dip their windblown
feathers in the marble bird bath
and gorge on summer berries.
You're here; sneaking around
my mother's azaleas; China pride,
trying to spook me out of my wits
but I'm too quick for your amateur
fairy games,your schoolgirl pranks.
"Lanying, take it to the yard,"
I say, playfully pushing you out of the way
as I hurry along with my chores.
You were never pressured as hard as I was
by parents who didn't have much money so
a good reputation was all they could
strive for, for their daughter's future;
hold onto, greedily, in a town of
painters; homeless and starving.
I was the only child; a Cinderella wannabe
who couldn't even walk gracefully in heels
but who tried every dying swan evening
with thick books balanced on her head.
death is the space between his heartbeati. she has spent so much time howling at the moon that she isn't sure what the sun looks like, anymore, and her heartbeat has stuttered to a standstill in her chest and she is neither here nor there, not dead or alive but she is everything in-between and people wonder why her favorite color was grey.
ii. in truth she speaks now only to those she deems worthy of her words. elongated conversations and more than two words, be them verbal or text, requires an amount of willpower that is growing smaller each day and she wants to ask for help but she's already used up her allotted slots of words for the day and come the morn she will have forgotten by then.
iii. she is not angry so much as she is hurt and, god, she isn't even sure why it's taken so long for the pain to come. fuck, it isn't as though this is new in any fucking way yet she expects different, wishes and hopes and perhaps she should have known better.
iv. he can't find it in himself to care about anything as of late. frie
Blood BrothersBrookie always holds my hand when we cross the street. She's never given a reason for it, she just does it. It's become this unspoken rule with us that whenever we cross the street together, she slips her hand in mine and I lace my fingers through hers and we walk hand-in-hand until we reach the other side and she drops her hand and we both wipe our palms on our jeans. Brookie's a little scared of crossing the street. Her poppa died in a car crash when we were six. He was a pedestrian. She's never gotten over it.
Brookie is my best friend going on sixteen years now, which is pretty impressive considering we're both sixteen. We don't have some cute little story about how we were born in the same hospital on the same day or about how our mothers were best friends long before they were pregnant with us and somehow passed on that bond while we were still in utero. No, Brookie and I met the same way ever
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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