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pushyou were never proud of me.push
you bruise my hands and lips and eyes with words spat in disgust and anger. you curl your fingers into your palm, and lean in close to my face. you have dark, too black hair from dye you wouldn't let me help you with, and misty green eyes that are frigid on my skin. you always smell like nicotine and stale peppermint- the smoke clings to your breath and your clothing, and you reek for days and days. you try to cover it up with too sweet perfume that makes me gag, and it's all i can do from covering my nose and spluttering. your scent used to be so familiar- comforting in a way. now all it does is make
by ~xXBlackDawnRisingXx
our wounds are superficialwe took it upon ourselves to breathe until the very last second, and we refused to crawl even when our legs collapsed. we still had chances left when the lights went out, so we travelled on anyways in the dark, counting the steps it took to get us back to daylight. i was cold and wanted to curl up on the stones and sleep, but you held my hand and kept my head in your lap, and whispered quietly that sleep was for the weary, and you weren't tired yet. .our wounds are superficial
when i cried and told you i was tired and sleep would be so much better, you kissed my forehead and pulled me into your arms. 'i know it's hard,' you whispered, 'but we have p
by ~xXBlackDawnRisingXx
waking up uselessyou are beautiful like cardinals in the snow and silent like december nights. you sigh into the darkness and shake your head, wondering if anyone will ever hear the songs you're writing on the walls. you count the bricks at your fingertips, floor to ceiling, and figure out that you're trapped- trapped by a number so big, you lost count at one million. they cut you and break you and make you feel like you're suffocating in broad daylight. you were surrounded on all sides by stones and sin and wishful thinking. you were freezing- but this place was familiar, and so,waking up useless
you stayed.
.
you had warm hands and misty oc
by ~xXBlackDawnRisingXx
paper cutssometimes i feel like going into old bookstores and hiding notes between pages for people to find. and they'll say things like 'she was never supposed to fall so hard', and 'does he ever get the girl?' and maybe it'll make me feel better about the damsels who couldn't save themselves, and the villains who never got a second chance. but then i'll always wonder if the pages were ever turned, or the chapters left unfinished, because then the words of saints and saviours would be lost to dusty shelves and coffee rings. is it sad that fiction sounds more like reality to me?paper cuts
.
i was screaming in my sleep and smiling
by ~xXBlackDawnRisingXx
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that night i slept on your side of the bed; 
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Dont Stop Believing
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'my sorrow, when she's here with me,
thinks these dark days of autumn rain are beautiful as days can be;
she loves the bare, the withered tree;
she walks the sodden pasture lane.'
-Robert Frost<3
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My work is copyrighted ©2009 *Deb-e-ann. Therefore do not use for any purpose without my prior permission.
--
'my sorrow, when she's here with me,
thinks these dark days of autumn rain are beautiful as days can be;
she loves the bare, the withered tree;
she walks the sodden pasture lane.'
-Robert Frost<3
--
If you're afraid of making waves, you will eventually drown.
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'my sorrow, when she's here with me,
thinks these dark days of autumn rain are beautiful as days can be;
she loves the bare, the withered tree;
she walks the sodden pasture lane.'
-Robert Frost<3
--
Photography is a way of feeling, of touching, of loving. What you have caught on film is captured forever. It remembers little things, long after you have forgotten everything.
- Aaron Siskind
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'my sorrow, when she's here with me,
thinks these dark days of autumn rain are beautiful as days can be;
she loves the bare, the withered tree;
she walks the sodden pasture lane.'
-Robert Frost<3
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breathe deep.
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'my sorrow, when she's here with me,
thinks these dark days of autumn rain are beautiful as days can be;
she loves the bare, the withered tree;
she walks the sodden pasture lane.'
-Robert Frost<3
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