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Sea Girl was my love.She liked to tie feathers,
In strawberry blonde hair
So silver, and blue topaz,
Shone in late afternoon sun,
She trespassed in graveyards
Overlooking the sea,
Smiled, and pretended to jump;
Then fly away.
To her mother's despair,
She'd shake her head
Onyx curls escaping,
Muttering profanities under breath.
She liked to tie feathers,
In strawberry blonde hair,
Watching them flutter
Like baby chicks,
Pecking at porcelain skin,
She was a wild girl,
At least at heart.
Wished never to be caught,
For even rooms became cages,
Wrought iron and wood.
I found her cliff walking
At day break, her lilting voice
Echoing over rock; back
To where birds nests lay.
"Peter, oh Peter, what am I to do?
Things are still changing,
And I'm falling for you."
Blankly I stared,
Unsure of the words to fix her.
(her and her blue grey braids)
I stood for too long,
Gazing out to sea,
Searching for my feathered foe.
My one true, sweetest love.
My sea girl.
All For YouThe cold, silent whispers inside your head
They eat away at you day by day.
And the soft, gentle words you think of
Are always ripping away at your unprotected soul
All you really need to make these things just go away, is someone like me
If you feel lonely and hurt inside
Then just call me
If you feel mad and there's doubt inside
Then don't worry
All you need is a hand to protect you
So just yell out my name and say you need me
The disgusting faces that I saw you make at yourself in the mirror
Just find their way on your every-day smiles
And the feelings that you get when you sit alone
Are always tearing away at your unconscious mind
All you really need to make it disappear, is someone to hold you
If you feel alone and used
Then just call me
If you feel sad and there's doubt inside
Then don't worry
All you need is someone to just love you
So simply whisper my name and say you need me
Why must things always be this way?
You're always crying, every single day.
If this is how you feel, j
If I Die YoungIf I die young,
take out my worn down,
with the love letters
to my angel
sapphire and crimson ink.
Give my journals to my mother,
so she can see
the inside of my mind,
for a few hours,
and know that
I adored her.
Let my dog,
sleep on my bed
to make up for all the times
I never let him in.
Give my daddy
all my cameras and memory cards
to let him see
all the times I wished
that he was there.
Send my grandmother
everything I ever wrote
fine point Sharpie
to show her that
I still think about Grandpa
Then tell God,
or whoever put me here,
that I'm sorry
for not giving Him
a second chance.
The Parlour IncidentOne day in July, I believe it was, I found myself sitting with several acquaintances in Christopher's parlour. It was one of those deliciously lazy afternoons which only the summer in her full glory can bring. The room had a wan, listless light to it, relaxing the other guests and myself as we languidly chatted over tea and crumpets. The air was also sluggishly heavy, dulling the senses to a slowly-blended calm engendered by the heat of St. Othniel's southerly climate.
At length, after much stimulating conversation, Christopher stood, producing a book of sheet music.
"What do you all say to a bit of music?" he asked.
"Certainly," I answered.
"Oh yes, please do darling!" Tabitha exclaimed, "he's quite the maestro."
Christopher laughed, shaking his head.
"Now, now love, I'd not go that far."
He strode over to the piano as the other guests urged him on. Ida entered the room bearing a merrily steaming teapot and more crumpets.
"More tea sirs?" she inquired, shooting sideways glances at her
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More