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regretstop looking through empty windows
and thinking it never rains enough indoors.
stop tracing outlines of dusty coffee cups
thinking you'll grow accustom to tainted teeth.
you won't love him tomorrow. this feeling you're feeling, it's not going to just go away. this feeling you regret that you got yourself into.
you won't tell him the truth. no, i won't tell you to either. i believe one sad soul is better than one guilt ridden, over rehearsed one.
you won't know what to say when he asks you how you feel or how you are or what he could do to make it better. and when he jokes he'll have to leave, you wish he would.
you don't know what's wrong with yourself. you think you should be happy but he's like a closed door without anything worth opening for. but they love him so much, why can't you. he cares, he says, about you that is. but he's so careless, he's still stuck in reverse. he's happy with bringing up the tortured souls of noshutupidon'twanttohearit.
bring me your sunrisemy name is drunk
and i've mentioned your shoes in conversation more than a many times.
my name is drunk
and you seem to understand how my clothes were never really made for my skin.
my name is drunk,
and yours is?
did you know you're a beautiful boy with beautiful scars
and your hands are bruised and cold but warm
and clumsy and mine and i hold them in my lap.
and you tell me about the beautiful weather i assume
but then you say something about not
talking about the whether.
i like to kiss you, because it seems perfect.
hello. my name is drunk.
and tonight. i love you.
but sober says it too.
consoleyou won't kiss me because your lip is split and drowning your tongue.
you won't kiss me,
no you wouldn't dare.
i want to tell your shoulder blades iloveyouiloveyouireallyreallyloveyou.
but i think, i already did.
stumbling into your arms on a busy highway with a cocktail that i cannot spell for my life, thinking sexsexsex on the beach in the snow. and you're saying
no, that's okay.
it's your brother in the emergency room.
yeh, he'll be alright.
and you hold me so tight and we watch these brightbrightblurry car headlights.
and i'm thinking baby, you never let me go.
no, never let me go.
you whisper all these words i want to scream.
and for then, it's all so right.
you've seen me like this and that and totally uncontrolled.
and i've seen you, yeah. and your eyes rolling over hills.
and your bandaged hands. your purple, cold cut hands.
and i think, minus your imperfections you're perfect.
and i love this, th
runway superhero.vacant spaces between emptied hearts.
it's like deflated balloons and clowns that refuse to smile.
like dying daises and sticky sponge cake.
it's like, this is where we went wrong.
now, i feel your tongue, but it's his bubble gum i taste.
it's his foreign hands i lust and his jumbled words,
but it's you i collapse into.
it's you that holds my hand and kisses my hair.
that whispers into fingertips
and repeats broken record forevers.
you're on repeat.
and i want to live in his deceit.
because, we'll be equal.
i'll be equal, with what i feel.
i promised you the sinking sun,
and i'm sorry to tell you that we're sailing south.
we're going the wrong way, cause we are the wrong way.
we're so wrong to feel right.
this is us, in a chasm of defeat.
but she'll stitch you safe and he'll
break my bed. don't you see how
fucking wrong this is.
you branded the rules, you're bending
them, i am
now sticks and stones,
you're too late to break my bones.
usthis is me drunk,
and hating every second of it.
this is me.
this is me, shedding skin on your front lawn.
i'm trying to say
please don't leave. please don't leave.
because everyone was in on it, except for me.
i am skeletal remains off yesterday and screaming
i love you
i love you
i love you
i got high of some suckers kiss and
said goodbye to everything
but i am still screaming for you
defacing disgracei guess we could say
your bruises were
and you'll end
up where we
we sat face to face,
i wondered how you could breathe through
a nose so small and thin and
you could be.
go on lace the lust,
rough canvas you
stretch and strain across
some stay ugly,
with reflections of
masquerade, late night
we need to stop having sexual
relations in public.
my mum would kill me.
her curls are cold.and she'll say, 'did you hear -'
and i'll say, 'no, really?'
but i'll actually mean, yes. i did. i was there.
and she'll say, 'it's a pity, she was so pretty too.'
and i'll sigh and say, 'she was.'
but you'll notice i'm looking elsewhere and ask,
'are you okay?
'sweety, i know it's hard.
'oh gosh, i didn't think you two were close.'
and i'll be in english, and you'll be copying shakespeare
and i'll be elsewhere and thinking,
no. i didn't know her at all. i was there. i was the only one there.
and she'll say. 'hun, you got to move on. it was nobodies fault. it happens.'
and i'll say, 'i know. i just. oh, she was so pretty. what a waste.'
and you'll nod and force a sympathetic smile.
i'll be thinking.
i'll be screaming.
i'm that nobody. it was my fault.
and three years later, we'll be in a coffee shop.
and her brother will be running his hand up my thigh.
wanderlustsometimes i think maybe i'll look for you.
they put up posters you know,
they're all over town.
now i get why you would never take pictures.
just tell me, this is want you want, right?
it been months now.
your description fits millions but
i know i could find you,
if you'd just let me.
i hope you're alright.
i won't say i miss you.
it ended with,
'where did the boy i fell inlove with go.'
'he ran away with the girl that fell inlove with him.'
'distance was never meant to change us.'
'but we have, everyone has.'
'not deep down.'
'especially deep down.'
we were just protecting our ignorance.
sometime i think i'll maybe look for you.
but in truth,
that's only sometimes.
a taxidermist in my spare timeit's always the last week of november when i'm making up statistics to say how awfully uncomprehensible i am. and it's always at exactly a quarter to eleven when i'm writing about nothing except for the vomit in your eyes or the blood in your mouth or another cliche of how pissed off/upset/overdramatic
not in love,
and i am not dressing corpses in your clothes,
and i am not in love,
and i am not lying to 500 strangers right now,
and i am not in love,
and i am not pretending that the sweat in your hair or the vomit on your skin or the blood on our tongues is anything other than some absurd metaphor for
because i've been stuffing stockings with christmas lists three weeks early to get the only present i want/need/despise, which just so happens to be in the future, and i need a time machine just to visit it, because i really just want to
because i've been stuffi
maybe we shouldmaybe we're all waiting for something that will never come.
today i discovered that i miss him most on tuesdays fridays and sundays,
and today was a sunday.
today i remembered that the three things i hated about him the most were
his insensitivity, his un-loyal-ness and his bitten fingernails.
then i realized how stupid that sounded.
so today i realized that i love him the most when his fingernails are bitten
and he's just insensitive by nature and most of the time,
today i realized that i'm stuck.
morning morning sunshine-
pull on your day cap because today you'll dance through jungles of confused
people with empty hands and gaping hearts.
they'll reach for your wrists but pull away- their need is temporary.
soon their hearts will be filled with clear spirits and they'll all forget that their hands and hearts are empty.
but you're different.
you are the wilderness you are the treetops you are the jungle-
the jungle that insists i stop living.
you need to tr
Something honestIt starts with you,
and ends with me breaking down in the middle of cooking dinner,
or on the train,
or in the public toilets.
Clawing and cutting and sitting up till 4am, because what the fuck else is there really?
You spend weeks idolising someone or something, an event, an act an unpredictable. Then when it happens its built up so much that nothing could possibly compare.
You go out and you have fun.
Then come home and feel worse than when you left.
You can try and starve the pain away,
or cut, or cry, or write, or sing, or paint, or play music, or read books, or throw things, or shout and run down the street in your dressing gown.
Anything to distract yourself from the day youre having.
Or curl up in bed and wonder where you are?
So I drive and drive and I chase the sun and chase the moon (across the world if I have too) and sit on the rooftops, and sleep under the stars, then carry on my search for you.
And I ring through the phonebook and wait at the stati
Nicholas HeartTo Nicholas Heart, with love.
everythings gone all wrong.
i could blame it on the drink -
but for god's sake, i can take a whole decanter of gin in one sitting.
i really am my fathers daughter aren't i?
any normal person would probably expect you to get the next flight over,
but somehow i don't think you will.
you've never put much faith in pieces of flying metal. or me.
To Gabrielle's failing liver.
don't you dare forget i only want to make her happy.
though i would also like to know the difference between sparrow and angel wings, and why you consider yourself a bookend?
please tell me. and remember,
"love is constant."
To Nicholas Heart, with love.
i'm tired of leaving mixed messages in sand,
and worrying if the wind will distort your view on things.
my heart is sick.
To Gabrielle's ribcage.
i'll fix her.
sometimes, i wish i were a carpenter so i could make you tiny wooden elephants
and hide them in different rooms of your ho
JoshuaMy shoulders click and my wrists snap. I dislocate fingers as I thrash violently on the kitchen floor. And try to project myself away. To Joshua.
Hes lying upside down in an armchair engrossed in his book, Im four years old drawing picture after glorious picture in my turquoise notepad with my set of crayons by my side, they are every colour of the rainbow and more.
As I finish each picture I show it to Joshua and he smiles this huge smile and says, Thats really great, its beautiful Maggie. Just like you. then goes back to his book.
Whats it about? I ask him
Its quite complicated really, its to do with time and space and travelling great distances he pauses, thinks then tells me, you wouldnt understand.
I can try, I offer.
Well its just about the solar system, different theories about the planets in orbit, and the stars. Explaining that no matter how hard we try
best friendsyou can be my best friend,
and we can hold hands everyday on the way to school -
or you can move 300 miles away and we wont hold hands anymore.
but you can still be my best friend, if youd like?
its ten years later that we meet quite by chance
youre giving me this look and -
i have a bag full of bottle caps and
and its not mysterious or intriguing or anything.
its just annoying, and they jingle and clatter together when Im walking and
its just annoying. okay?
and why should i even talk to you?
when you promised me youd stay in touch and that wed always be best friends
but you didnt. and now were not. so why should i even talk to you?
you you have untied shoelaces and mismatching socks
so i dont believe you are in any position to give me looks and -
and suddenly were in a bar and im kissing you. and suddenly its two weeks later and we
dakotai wake up tasting of cigarettes and -
it's funny because i don't even smoke.
see, i heard about this girl who smoked in secret for fifteen years.
not even her family or closest acquaintances knew.
but i think it's quite fantastic.
i used to wonder why she never told anyone.
she had -
friends that made her laugh.
friends that she kissed.
friends that made her laugh but she would never dream of kissing.
friends that kissed her but often made her cry.
i suppose she spent more time kissing and inhaling then opening her mouth.
she'd sit in open third storey windows and wear cheap heavy perfume.
she had polished nails and white teeth, and eyes so fucking blue it was unreal.
you'd fall in love with her.
she was so giving of herself, so eager to please everyone.
i think she needed something of her own.
something she could keep secret.
and though no one ever mentioned it,
all of her friends agreed
"that dakota tasted of smoke."
lines lines lines lies.so tell me boy, did you carve pretty poetry in your wrists, too?
i've seen your masochistic smile and bags of worry under those green green eyes-
do they ever fall apart?
you're a stone- faced gargoyle and i am notre dame and we co-exist in
a way that we destroy each other, one limestone chip at a time.
tell me if you long for silence because my words only make you feel emptier than before because they're so meaningless-
but boy, the only thing i have left are words and if they aren't enough
then i never will be.
i need to see your hands so that i can tell if you've given up
because i've come to realize that the truth is only told in your palms
and those green green eyes can lie their way straight
through to my stone-cold heart.
when silence holds you by the very tips of your toes
and threatens with her golden teeth to let you slip slip slip away in
to the black abyss of quiet
she sings you a song you'll never hear twice-
of raindrops floating through clouds and radio lines of love.
whimsical thingsshe can't sleep at night, so instead she watches the stars from her bed and writes poetry in the folds of her mind. she watches the sky change colour from darkest purple to a light blue and watches as the stars dissapear one by one. she feels redundant, watching the sunrise.
we're sitting on her bedroom floor and she's got a spoon and a lighter, a syringe and a lack of something to keep her happy. sometimes i think, when we're here, that she should write her poetry down. that she could escape some things. i never tell her out loud though; we just shoot heroin and fuck with the stars. we shoot heroin and fuck with ourselves until everything is perfect.
sometimes i think i love her. sometimes, i think i just love the way her skin is too pale and her hair too dark. other times, i think maybe it's the way her eyes are sometimes green but sometimes brown. or maybe i'm just waiting for the unpredictable, emotional girl to write me a poem.
i never thought to ask her what she does with t
infinity plus one two us.i forgot to remember to say
all these stupid things
you would have
liked to hear.
but remember you forgot to tell me
you insisted that cars were not
stop for fools that
ran red lights.
that cars were not meant
to stop for you and
stick and stones
were nothing like knives and
you were destined to
whatever it was
within the earths failing
just smoke more.
i used to scream and cry and gasp
because i wanted you to kiss my
forehead and hush me to sleep
in your arms.
you knew this so.
you just can't follow through
i miss you so.
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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