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SGHby =PaperBoatDreams
The Rolling Sky.If I could go back in time, I'd lay down on the grass for days on end. The bowl was deep and smelled like earth. And in the summers, following the aftermath Of the war between the sprinklers And the endless blades of grass I didn't know weather I was looking up at the stars Or down at them. There was a spot that held my exact shape And it provided comfort That no human being could. The land hugged me tighter, much tighter, Than a woman ever did.The Rolling Sky.
So here's to you Spot behind the chapel. With your greens and browns, And often yellow, reds, and
by =PaperBoatDreams
Another Hesitant NightTonight is not a good night to forget you Darling, Tonight you will remain. The air is gold, the night is moving, And the sun is a few minutes away From peeping through my window frame. My mattress says he misses you. My pillow says he doesn't feel the same. So for their sake I will keep you. Just a few days longer. In a pocket in my brain.Another Hesitant Night
Yes, I know you don't belong there anymore. But the memories of us running Skipping. Jumping. Playing.
by =PaperBoatDreams
Camila"Goodbye to you" Says my embrace. "I'll see you later" Says my hope, My heart won't turn to see you leaving, It hurts too much to see you go. My hands can't talk But still they wave to you. They're message stuck Deep in my throat. And so my lips Bid you good night. They slowly part To say "you know i loved you so"Camila
Just so you know, My eyes are stubborn. They pretend you never left me. They see you here More than you know. It gets hard to close them On some evenings. So I stay up And write out how it feels
by =PaperBoatDreams
Favourites
glittering, struggling.i.glittering, struggling.
"i am going to make every person
around me as happy as i can,"
i bravely declare.
"you should get a job," you offer,
and i draw a heart on a whiskey bottle and say that making people happy is my new job.
"you should get a paying job," you clarify, and i fill the whiskey bottle with glitter and kiss you until it doesn't matter anymore.
you don't need money if you're
dead.
iii.
i tell you that i'm going to leave because even if it hurts now, it will
eventually make you happy, and
you refu
by *estallidos
the things we can't remember-you have my ring, you know. my thick silver one that says my name. you used to wear it on your pinky because your fingers were too big, clicked it annoyingly against glass surfaces. you also probably still have several of my socks, sticky gummi bears, and the necklace you took from my kitchen and promptly broke.the things we can't remember-
you still have the note i wrote you in september of 2006, the one i penciled on yellow cardstock that you tucked into your wallet. the fortune from the chinese restaurant that said i would be your wife. a deck of cards that i wrote on, fifty-two reasons why i loved you.
you still have my learner's permit in y
by *estallidos
borderline nostalgic.i used to stand in the middle of the railroad track on sundays, one foot on either side of the county border line, just so i could tell you that i was in two places at once.borderline nostalgic.
you would shake your head in that disapproving, familiar way, and tell me that no one could be in two places at once, and besides, standing on railroad tracks was illegal, and i had better watch it or else i was liable to get ticketed.
i informed you that wanting to live a little was not illegal.
the day you died i rode full speed down the nearby hill with my bare legs on the handlebars of my mother's bike, the sun shining full in my
by *estallidos
you can't make them love you.He is beautiful, new, unexplored. He has wanted to kiss her ever since they met one week ago and fell prey to helpless chemistry.you can't make them love you.
“Don’t,” she says, moving her hands in a subconscious “yes” pattern along his arm as he rubs his cheek against hers. “You don’t even know my favourite colour.” The wind cuts through her thin jacket, and his chest is so warm.
“Red,” he guesses, improbably correct. His ears are cold.
by *estallidos
telling a sad story backwards-17.telling a sad story backwards-
it smells like grief and sterilized metal.
i climb into andrew’s bed, though the nurses have strictly forbidden it. he closes his eyes and holds me tightly, because he says when he can’t see me, it is easier to pretend i never happened to him.
15.
he pushes the cart aggressively down the aisle, pretending to mow over old ladies doing their sunday shopping.
"stop," i say giggling, lobbing a can of ravioli at him.
for a moment i think he simply didn't see me throw the can; it glances off his chest and falls to the floor, exploding in a pattern of
by *estallidos
by *estallidos
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ZestdeviantID
| Don't have much talent except for a bit of writing experience.. However i still love to do photography and painting. (currently in need of a camera if anyone is selling or giving away ;D) I LOVE getting my stuff critiqued! and i actually appreciate constructive criticism more than praise  so feel free to tear my stuff a new one! |
Devious Info
- Interests: Writing, Photography, Painting, Videogames, Music, T.V.
- Favourite movie: Too many @.@ but to name a few: Shrink, The Boat That Rocked, Brothers Bloom, Perfect Blue, Akira
- Favourite band or musician: A Day To Remember, Muse, Bayside, Enanitos Verdes, Tegan and Sara, A7x,
- Favourite poet or writer: Pablo Neruda, Dean Koontz, Robert Frost
- Favourite photographer: F64 group
- Favourite game: Scriblenauts x3 (spelling)
- Favourite cartoon character: Walter (from Hellsing) Bender (Futurama), Stewie (Family Guy), and that guy from Megas XLR
- Tools of the Trade: Pencil, Pen, Paper, Keyboard.
- Yahoo: Uincubus2
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=PaperBoatDreams
- you're vry welcome x]
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~chittybang
- thanks a lot dave.
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=PaperBoatDreams
- Hey look I have a shout box... where did I get premium membership from
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