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Elle espere.Every moment that Sarah wasn’t standing next to him, was a moment of delirious confusion and, at the same time, a regrettable calm. It took only a walk down the slow streets of the city to catch a whiff of his scent among throngs of people, akin to small clusters of cobwebs. It sent her mind into a switching of gears and immediately a naïve little girl took the wheel.Elle espere.
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The final stretch of sidewalk lingered up ahead, marred only by the blue lake that shimmered on either side of the bridge, coalesced with a cacophony of automobiles that shot past in their hurry to go nowhere.
The final bend nea
by ~WordlessApplause
look closer.The air tasted funny. All around her, it swam in her head. It was bitter and melancholy, this taste, and her senses swam in a panicked frenzy. She smiled slightly and watched her teeth glint off the faded mirror, reflecting a feeble moonlight that peered in through the stained lace curtains.look closer.
There was someone in front of her, and she reached forward. Her fingertips met the cold glass of the mirror and realization shoved her dully. The pale, ghostlike figure hovered, hands clenched around the neck pleadingly. The pale ghostlike character smiled at her mockingly and she reached up and patted her mouth as if to make sure she wasn
by ~WordlessApplause
the boxed girl.There is a girl trapped inside of a box.the boxed girl.
She sits there, draped in a thick layer of velvet threads, biting her lip, keeping time to each heart beat. The redness of skin is highlighted by fresh blood that seeps out, pumping through the veins to the heart once more. Pump. Pump. Pump.
Thin layers of gloom shed the heavy face upon which childish lines are drawn mockingly, dragging distilled eyes towards ears that do not hear. She feels her way through the sights of quotidian life, using fingertips to lightly touch each sensation; she does not trap, she does not like traps, is trapped.
Is this fresh blood, is
by ~WordlessApplause
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Morrissey's Funeralin the mournful evening, as the clouds rolled in the sky like oceans: i burnt all my morrissey records. the words curled from roses to ashes, and they sang a smoky nocturne as i kissed them goodbye with tears. i kept them all, a dead lover in an urn. they would sit and whisper their solitude into my ear; it would amaze me how his voice never cracked but overthrew the strangling glare of love with some wretched grace you would drown in.Morrissey's Funeral
the cemetry gates seemed to rust as soon as i touched them; nothing was true anymore. the stars gave
by *sonicbutterfly
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Devious Info
- Interests: Writing, photography.
- Favourite movie: Edward Scissorhands.
- Favourite band or musician: The Gossip, The Beatles, Regina Spektor.
- Favourite poet or writer: David Adams Richards, Ian McEwan, John Keats.
- Favourite photographer: Thirza Schaap.
- MP3 player of choice: 3rd generation iPod Nano
- Personal Quote: À vaincre sans péril, on triomphe sans gloire. - Corneille
- Tools of the Trade: An endless mind.
- Website: http://twistedlemon.deviantart.com
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