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The Fall: IVIV
A girl dressed in blue and yellow
wore a gown she knew could one day suit a fellow,
who sounded so highly sweet.
The girl had made her choice
to recklessly follow a voice
of one she knew not of how to meet.
Almost alone falling back to her oldest dream,
small roses of blush beamed
on her pale face until she by chance stopped her feet.
Listening for her cure—
his voice was not ever before so pure,
it made her heart skip a beat.
Walking hastily towards her was the one who spoke her to her soul
via a tone fit for the best sort of music.
His eyes were intoxicating,
poisoning her mind with unreal bliss.
Only moments away he stumbled,
tripping over a strand of gold and turquoise thread tearing from the soles
of his shoes, classic.
His mask of porcelain began unwinding
a visual target not to miss.
He fell while he mumbled.
Looking down expecting to see her dream’s face
she saw only a mass of thread sprawled between her arms.
Her heart dropped seeing the source of the voi
Moonlit BeachScattered across the drooping wet sand were a plethora of sand-dollars and various other sea shells. The toll taken by their scathed and broken appearances, we had given them value. That night, the cold air bit at our skin. We ignored this as we were merely watching our feet sink down into the chilled grains of tears. The ocean had already spat it's salt at our faces earlier. The sting in our eyes still remain. We stood there for what felt to be hours on end. Eventually we sluggishly wandered over to a soon to be lonesome large uprooted tree trunk. At least it had already felt loss. Tonight, the ocean was our therapeutic spokesmen and no more.
The pale lunar light eclipsed our thoughts from causing another schism amongst each other; for that night only. Waves continued to collapse relentlessly on to each other and ultimately to the lifeless floor, not noticing our behavior. He slowly gestured towards the monochromatic sand being overwhelmed by darkened water. My face formed a scowl in
I am a DreamerSimply, I am a dreamer. The sort of dreamer I am, slightly differentiates from what you may expect; if you are hidebound to the concept of labeling any sort of dream as chimerical- heed my warning. I follow my dreams in the sense that I have given them hierarchy over my reality. I chose to give them rule. I have trouble identifying the differences between what is dream from what is considered to be reality. I usually find that I prefer my dreams over reality, as I can alter them to my heart's content if need be; yet in the reality I cannot merely wish myself out of a corner in negative situations. By dreams I do not only mean to depict what I envision during my body's slumber but also what may overcome my waking thoughts through what you may know as a "daydream." I am a dreamer because my dreams in any case only fall under one archetype so to speak, which is labeled as "me."
If you choose to look at me but do not care to truly listen or focus on the
I Belong To You I hate rain. Not really, I love it. Just not when the most beautiful, perfect, wonderful, perfect, comfortable, waterproof, perfect coat in existence has been savagely butchered by my so-called friend’s Dalmatian. Every slap of rain on my naked arms is a stinging reminder of the irreparable hole in my wardrobe.
Some people might try to fill the void with lesser coats but I can’t bring myself to betray Valentino, even after her death. Instead my slippery arms grapple with each other in wet shock as I stumble to the op shop, clinging to one last thread of hope. I know in my deadened heart that I’ll never have another coat like her. Yet here I am, blundering through the elements in my vain search for the acceptance and warmth I found wrapped in Valentino’s woollen sleeves.
Thud. My body slams into the door, making the ‘open’ sign quiver and the bells tinkle in offense. I fight for entry, the door’s assault doubled by the stale funk of
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More