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Tidbits and Drabbles: HimHe is beautiful.
Others may not see it, may not appreciate it, but I can see it.
I can always see it.
It’s in the way his eyes light up when he speaks of what he loves.
It’s in the way he smiles and laughs as though this one joke is truly the best in the world.
It’s in the way his voice lilts and dips, the way his lips curl around each word, the way I find myself hanging on each and every syllable.
It’s in the way I love him, though he doesn't love me.
It’s in all of him, every part.
And it hurts.
Tidbits and Drabbles[drabble 1]
And so she sat, silently, gazing at the waters, music in her ears.
If she was aware of the stares of those around her, she didn’t show it.
She sat, and listened, and watched.
And she slowly wasted away.
And moments like these were her favorite. Moments when she could simply withdraw from the world, get lost in the music. Moments when nothing else mattered, not the obvious stares of those around her, nor the grueling troubles she’d left behind at her house.
No, in moments like these, she was free. She was unbroken.
She was home.
Drabble“Are you afraid of me?” he asked, leaning back from her with a bitter smirk. His smirk deepened when she nodded.
“Why?” he spat.
“Well…” she began, her blue, blue eyes slowly trailing up to meet his dark green ones, “you came in through my window. No one’s ever done that before.”
He blinked in surprise, not expecting her answer. After a moment, he grinned. “Fair enough. Aren’t you going to ask why I’m here?”
She shook her head. “Figured you would explain on your own; though, you strike me as the type of person not to explain anything until it’s over and done with.”
“Well, as true as that may be,” he agreed, coming down from the window sill to walk around the young girl, “I think you should at least know who I am, before I…how did you say it before? Ah, yes - whisk you away.”
The crinkles present in the corner of each eye told her that he was teasin
Friends?My heart races when I'm with you.
But I don't know, do you love me too?
You're charming and funny,
Sweeter than honey.
The most beautiful eyes in the whole damn world.
Could you ever fall for such a stupid girl?
We talk, and laugh, but nothing more.
I wonder, what are we waiting for?
I look into the mirror and see
That I am not who I want to be.
How could you fall for a girl so gross?
We'll never be together—
Hell, just friends at most.
I'm so confused, and yet I feel
I would run a thousand miles
If I knew when I was done,
That I could see your smile.
Hear your laughter, and your voice too,
Saying to me softly, "I love you."
Tidbits of Writing"Jeanette"
When Jeanette had left the room, I heard a giggle from the other side of the wardrobe. As I peeked, I saw a small, round face smiling back at me, that of a girl perhaps nine, ten years of age. This, I told myself, must be Lillian. God, how she looked like her mother. Not in a sexual way, of course; rather, she seemed to be the essence of all things pure and angelic about Jeanette. At least, until you looked into her eyes. There, in the aquamarine depths, she held a gleam of mischief that, if nothing else, told you whose daughter she truly was.
Tidbits of Writing"Jeanette"
Ah, Jeanette. Just seeing the way her chestnut curls cascaded down her back was enough to let a man die happily. Then you saw her angelic face; the soft upturn of her nose, her aquamarine eyes, her soft baby cheeks down to her wide smile, a smile so bright and contagious one felt as if nothing could ever go wrong were he to see it. Her face, however, was the only angelic thing about her. The sinful curve of her backside, the wicked v-shape of her bosom she revealed when bent over, the lusciously long legs and creamy skin tone—a dangerous package designed to bring men to their knees, while at the same time thanking the heavens for such a beautiful creature. Ah, Jeanette. Would I never tire of seeing her? Was I truly to bask in her beauty, day after day, yet receive nothing for my patience? I had yet to learn the answer to my questions, but I was determined to answer them—and soon.
Tidbits of Writing"Where am I?" I yelled, echoes bouncing from wall to slimy wall. I called again, "Where am I? Hello?" Knowing full well no one would answer, I curled my knees up to my chin and sat. It was dim in the cave, though not completely dark, as though light were coming from somewhere. Where it came from, however, I couldn't decide. It seemed as though the walls themselves were emitting a sickly, mucus shade of green luminescence. Suddenly, my ears perked. I heard something, faint, besides the drip of the wall. I heard it once more, my ears not possibly working correctly. Could it be? I heard it again, louder this time, and there was no mistaking it—someone, or something, was giggling. It sounded as though it were a young schoolgirl, though I quickly dismissed that idea. If it truly were a young girl, wouldn't she call for help, or have heard my pleas? For a time, it was silent, which made me jump all the more when I heard it again, closer this time. The laughing had taken a wicked edge, and se
Tidbits of WritingShe didn't know it was possible to hate someone so completely, so fully, so irrevocably...but he proved it true that very night.
It wasn't even something he'd done directly-though that may have been part of the problem.
She wasn't sure if what she felt was loathing, pure and unadulterated in its intensity-or if all the books she'd read were right...and she really was just jealous.
She thought the former a much more probable scenario.
Catalina...Just Names For Now.Hola! Me llamo Cat. Mi nombre realmente es Catalina Antionette Rosa Juarez. Yo vivo en Florida, y yo hablo ingles, pero soy de Mexico. Yo tengo catorce anos, y mi cumpleanos es el diecinueve de mayo. Tengo siete hermanos, tres chicos y cuatro chicas. Mis hermanas mayores tienen diecisiete, dieciseis, y quince anos. Mi otra hermana tiene catorce anos tambien. Mis hermanos mayores tienen dieciseis y quince anos. Mi hermano menor tiene diez anos.
Ahora, mas sobre me. Mis amigos dicen que soy lista, bonita, traviesa, extrovertida, y comica. Mis padres dicen que soy talentosa, creativa, y inteligente. Tengo pelo oscuro y casi rizado, y soy baja. Me gusta mucho cantar, bailar, dibujar, escribir, pasar un rato con mis amigos buenos, y escuchar musica. Mi hermano menor dice que yo siempre paso mi rato maquillarse. Es verdad? Claro que si! Soy una chica, y deseo ser bella todos los dias! Yo tengo un novio; su nombre es Mateo. Es muy guapo, inteligente, listo, comico, y simpatico. Cuando el no p
when you find yourself
in a crowd of familiar faces,
the struggle for breath
You Will PayI can taste the fear upon you:
The cold sweat in your palms,
The eyes that dart at shadows,
And the lips that are forced into a tightened smile.
You wait beneath the blankets,
Shivering each night as the anxiety rises.
You gasp at the slightest sounds and quiver...
For you are afraid of the curse that comes.
In your mind you see what you have done to me.
You watched as you ripped my tongue
And stole the very voice from my soul!
But even if I am without a body,
Even if I can no longer hold a knife to your throat.
Fear alone is enough for me to silence you,
And I will NEVER allow you to be heard!
MazeLost within myself
Looking for a way out
This cannot end like this
Trapped in my own mind
A maze with no exit
I keep running and running
But I always end up
In the same place where I began
Inner DemonI harbour a monster,
It lingers deep within.
It wants to escape me,
To tear free from my skin.
It gnaws at my insides,
And hopes that I'll give in.
It works hard to tempt me,
To lead me into sin.
It wants me to suffer
To feel its wretched sting.
But I stand true and strong,
I will not let it win.
The nights are the hardest,
In bed I pray and sing
To the Lord God above
To rid me of this thing.
But instead it remains,
My monster still within.
RustThe dwelling rust
swells this hollow garden
and somewhere in the yard
a tire swing goes flat
against the skyline.
It chokes the autumn light
in the silo,
the crush of
mums and ragged berries
It bubbles in the percolator
steeping still life
in the caul
of early morning -
the red-brown crumbs
of breakfast toast and jam
growing ghosts upon
And deep inside
I still hear you waking up
the soft salute
of morning voices
stirring the wind
outside my window.
Slaves of the deadSlaves of the dead
to find another land,
but they couldn't stand the desert and the frost.
Some died, some returned.
For those who returned
the masters had prepared a special punishment.
Their memory was wiped off.
They became thieves,
without ever understanding why.
They just felt it was the right thing to do.
Croon.And you will have my arms around you
long after the first frost
silences the crickets
that played us to sleep
through our first summer,
and their children
and the children of theirs
will play those same songs
as creases form and deepen
beside our eyes.
And I know this because
of our childish jokes
and because of the words
we are writing.
there’s something about
these kisses hitting their marks
from thousands of miles away
eliciting rouge beneath pale;
I see on your face
the dumbfounded grin
I feel spreading across my own,
our bodies built
scattered by the hand of fate
between two states.
But it is love
who is determined
to complete our picture
and it is love
who shall have her way.
Red Light ReduxHaving a truck
Paint me red
Is the strangest feeling
I’ve ever felt.
I’ve seen myself melt away
Like a mid-summer’s ice cream
While my personality screams
To be noticed. Every wall that once
Stood between me and reality
I am finally free.
Until they strapped me down
And sewed back my hands to my head.
My heart to my mouth.
My legs to the earth.
The taste of freedom
Rests gently on my tongue,
And I’ve been trying
To no avail.
MusicTo live, to learn, to fly
To love to dream to die
To give it all up for the one you love
To give all glory to God above
To know who I am
To not be afraid
To know where to go
When I need an escape
To understand you're here for me
To look in the mirror and love what I see
To play to laugh to dance and sing
Music taught me everything.
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