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This one is Mine.I see the look in your eye as you follow her around the room,
I saw the poem you wrote, and told her she'd know whom.
Who it was for is what she asked, and walked off without a clue,
And you stared at her back whispering "I love you.".
Well, I'm going to be nice and give you a warning here,
This one is mine, and only mine, do I make myself clear?
I know she loves me more than words can express,
And I tell you, she is mine, that girl in that dress.
I read that poem, and I must tell you something,
I love her, and she loves me, for me she would do anything.
So, whatever you're waiting for, the right place, the right time?
Stop waiting, because I'm not letting go, I'm telling you. She's mine.
One Of Those DaysKarkat can feel himself slipping, and finally coming to terms with the realization makes him lose his breath, a sob clawing its way up his throat. It burns with the threat of tears and the pain makes it all the more clear to him that it's happening.
Karkat is too late. Gamzee is no longer his.
The small teen hunches over as he sits cross-legged in front of his husktop, hugging himself. The first cry that leaves his lips brings on red tears and it confuses him because he doesn't cry, he holds it in. He's supposed to be strong. He knew this day was coming; he had the time to prevent it, to change the course of events. But he hadn't because he isn't strong. He didn't have the nerve. He is a failure.
A pained cry fills Karkat's boring respiteblock. The Cancer lets himself be pulled under, allowing his bottled up feelings to finally reach the surface where they turn into heartbreaking screams and fresh tears. Karkat gets on his knees, covering his head with his hands, pull
gamkar: if i die youngYour name is Karkat Vantas, and you're currently walking down the street towards your best friend. In your hand is an empty watering can. Your other hand is tucked safely away in your hoodie pocket. A cool breeze cuts through the blistering heat and caresses your face with its pleasant iciness. You sigh softly as you walk. Why was it so fucking hot out today...? It's burning you inside out; yet you refuse to remove your sweatshirt. Hopefully you'll have a heatstroke. You'd love that.
You walk into the cemetery, and turn towards one of the newer tombstones. You can't help the smile that breaks over your face when you see his.
The tombstone is surrounded by huge, beautiful flowers. Pansies and buttercups and lavender bushes and rose bushes and bleeding hearts-those are your favourite-and poppies and daises and dandelions and all sorts of different flowers. They ran together in a large, miraculous colourful blur. Along the bottom of the stone was a line of stones painted different colours
Him and HerHim
I was born in 1994.
I was your boyfriend.
I was someone who you loved.
But I didn’t love you back.
I was your first kiss.
Your first love.
Your first many things.
But that didn’t matter because I lied.
I knew that it would end the way it did.
And I knew you’d end up hurt.
But I still did it, because I thought it would be best for
And for that, I hope you understand that it isn’t your fault.
Don’t be so nice.
Find someone who actually cares.
Try to forget me.
Even though I know you won’t.
I was born in 1996.
I was your girlfriend.
I was someone you used.
You didn’t want me as your girlfriend.
I was your first kiss.
Your first girlfriend.
Your first many things.
But that didn’t matter to you.
You only wanted someone to pay attention to you.
Someone who would undoubtingly be a fall back if you didn’t
get what you wanted.
I loved you for wh
Get UpGet Up
You stubborn being.
Once again, you’ve come to me with
your emerald eyes full of tears.
Treacherous little bastards, aren’t they.
The first one escapes and again,
your foundation burns to ashes.
I’ve watched you fall many times
before, but I still offer my hand.
You only take it because you’re
scared of being left alone.
Brush off the embers, silently
thank me, and get back on the road.
You’ve always got to be on the
move. You never fully recover.
One step. Two Steps. You begin to take
the third one but make a mistake and trip.
You broken soul.
It’s finally time for those emeralds
to hold in the tears of destruction.
It’s hard, isn’t it.
One eludes your strength and you
fear for the worst, but nothing happens.
I’m holding you close on my foundation,
so that you never have to see yours burn.
You only let the rest fall
because you’re safe now.
Cry your heart out, forget
everything, and fix yourself.
Wasted Words.Wasted Words.
We wait for the last possible moment.
Even when confronting our opponents.
How we truly feel.
We hide behind our counterfeit expressions.
Conceal and contain our countless confessions.
Failing to announce,
What our mouths long to pronounce.
We purposely squander opportunities.
Maintaining our positions within our communities.
Avoiding any disclosure,
Reducing the risk of exposure.
We use humour to dilute what we actually say.
Because the truth does not have to be revealed today.
We know there always is a tomorrow,
So today has not got to be filled with sorrow.
We wait and wait.
Stall and prolong.
Until it’s too late
And the moment has gone.
There is never a convenient time.
For us to say what is really on our minds.
It takes the sight of a death bed.
Loved and LostJade sat in a waiting room, her cheeks streaked with tears. She was waiting for the news on how her lover was doing. With her waited his two best friends, Gamzee Makara and Sollux Captor. Sollux was pacing the length of the empty room and Gamzee sat next to Jade, rubbing small circles on her back. Jade covered her face with her hands, this was all her fault.
Earlier that day Jade had gotten into an argument with her boyfriend, Karkat Vantas. She couldn't really remember what they were arguing about, maybe it was about the class Karkat had dropped to keep his GPA from falling. Whatever it was about it caused Karkat to storm from their house. She sat in their room looking at the wall. She wanted to tell him something but she didn't get the chance earlier. She pulled out her cell phone and text him. She waited awhile but eventually her phone buzzed. It was a call from Karkat, "Karkat! I'm so sorry. I-" "I'm sorry miss but I'm not Mr. Vantas. I'm a doctor at Oakwood hospital." And that's w
The Dream GuardianA beauty- in her own world
Roaming… a blue jay between two skies
Freedom carved in the feathers of her wings
Her name was sung and played on strings
Country folks knit stories about her
The savior of dreamers upon clouds
Rainbow paths to get them laughing
Paints and brushes in her hands
Wonder is what her colors do
Creates new music in the air
Paints the sky a brilliant blue
Daisies seem a fresher white
Weaving dreams in brighter hues
Gaze around your vivid nights
Whispering her precious myths
Incandescent, intensely bright
One violet star –the nomad, through
SilenceWords never spoken,
Screams never heard.
Whimpers never noticed,
Tears never cured.
Scars carved by silence,
Forming words unspoken.
Forever I will be
Just nearly broken.
I will never give in,
Though hanging by a thread.
I will never give up,
Though my life has been shred.
With words known,
But not ever spoken,
I will never be
Her CatalystAs she walks through the maelstrom, the words trace upon the tips of her fingers and press into the stone. Every brick, every crack in the concrete, every crossed and angular stroke in reds and blacks and oranges. The drips of the gasoline pool around the base of her boots, slosh as she steps over the burst pipes and the rubble.
So much rubble. So little outcry. The silence of the city grates on her eardrums and the mantras she'd been forced to memorize. The Seers demanded they observe thirteen years of recitation before they attempt to weave their first World together.
But who other than the Seers can claim the incantations that knot the skeins they twist and pull on like reins hold fast? When have any of the Sisters recorded the visions they traced upon space-time and recited them, left them open for critique and discussion and debate?
Which is why she walks through the chalky soot of the smashed city around her. This all
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More