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LOVEI never understood this feeling
the way my heart flutters
the way i dont know what im doing
and i cant under stand my own heart
why im sad when your gone
why i never let you know
the way i keep thinking of this love song
and cant seem to find my words at all
the way you make me sing
make me dance and spin
why your voice has this ring
like ive herd it some where before
why i smile at you like this
why i shock at your very touch
and at all the things i miss
like how you seem to be the same
how your eyes never leave mine
how you blush when i say your name
and cant seem to say the right line
and how you seem to smile sweetly
i can hear your heart beat
somehow matching mine
and it seems we always meet
when we are thinking of the other
how we count the seconds that pass
till we meet again
and how each feels so vast
and how this one word escapes up
LOVE and with us two
how we wait to hear these words
I LOVE YOU
AND I LOVE YOU TOO
I never understood my feelings for you
why i blush at your sigh
Wing BeatsA single feather
a single wing
The breath of souls in flight
A night of stars
the moon so bright
the beat of twin souls intertwined
And shall we part
the strings of fate
will keep our wings around us
our hearts will fly
mine on wings of light
and yours on wings of dark
The feathers fall
floating on a swift breeze
covered with the tears of our past
And shall we fall
ours hearts torn from never too late
may our paths meet again
on the wing beats of fate
may your heart meet mine
may your courage reach me
may our souls weave into our wings
wings on opposite sides
wings of light and dark
wings as pure as the silver moon
And when the stories end
and time stands still
I will remember the beats and hold
the feathers of our love close
by katelyn pritchard
forgotten thiefWhat if you were a divine and a ruler in your own world .and what if you had a mate but some how kept losing your memories of it all this is the story of the divine black wings the witch wolfy the monster cheshire ruler of the divine Sylia blackwings.
When i first woke up al i could remember was i was a divine my name was Sylia and a single voice saying "I'll always return to you Sylia" when i opened my eyes i was alone in the forest surrounded by trees a field with millions of lovely flowers a lare cottage with 2 stories a water fall and a lovely lake and hidden cave. the house was empty of people but ad plenty of witch equipment i decided that i would practic magic to make money for myself and so my new life began.
The next day i dressed in a black robe under which was a long dress looking around i was in a small demention called romantia it had soft orange tall brick building with red and white roses climbing up the walls lovely castles and many rivers it was beautiful t
Changes and formsShe sings she dances
The graves silent
unknown names long ago blurred away
unnoticed by her and her games
no one there to hear the melody
no one there to see her gleam
she is not in our world
but in a dream to be a dream
She is not this worlds
for she is not human
She is her own
not angel nor demon
She stops and stares
stares up to the sky
where she begins her change
black wings form unfurling with a sigh
they stretch and fold
each feather gleams silver then black
she goes up high high in the sky
her feathers glide her on her back
the clouds she lays on
the stars her lights that gleam
her wings fold around her frame
the moon listens as she sings to her dreams
Devines and ProphetsOnce in a time long forgotten. Where trees grew high like wall and magic could be found around every corner there lived a young prophet named Sirren. He had amazing powers in his control and because of such found him self in the church of prophets to learn control of his abilities. He liked his life but found him self feeling alone too often. All the little kids thought of him as scary and all the older kids studying under the church feared and envied him and the adults just wanted to use him. At the age of 14 he felt terrible depressed from there hatred. He wanted to leave and so at the age of 15 on his birthday he left and on his travels he joined a large circus troop for a life of preforming. And preform he did at night during the end of the show after the young unicorn rider was done and the griffins and fairies left the stage you would see a type rope and in the middle was Sirren dancing and holding a strange sword that after a flip turned into a flute that he began to play out of
A night's dream A Night's Dream
A simple star making it's way to the sky
oblivious to the passage of time.
A ravens feather floating down
swirling twirling to the ground.
The silver light of the moon
surely it will be fading soon.
For the night is like a single dream
a little more than it may seems.
But the night is my single bliss
a happy moment i will miss.
For in its fold is simple quit
with no reason rules or riot.
In the dark I sing my song
in a silver graveyard long.
I sing for happiness and dreams
for my soul and memories.
I love the dark
deep in my heart.
i hold strong for the night
to open up my sights.
To be free of shackles and fright
to escape to lovely night
to be myself and all i seem
to escape to a nights dream.
It's Okay to be ImperfectThe moon
Unable to loveMy love was pure
I only wanted
But my heart
Because my love
Like a piece of garbage
And now I'm unable
Because the shreds
Of my shattered soul
MathematicsI am but the sum of my
F L A W S;
a network of
S C A R S
a disaster of
D R E A M S
a shield of
B O N E S
C A L C U L A T I O N
a void of
to the girl i lose my words aroundi have been meaning to tell you for years:
i think you’re beautiful. i have
seen nothing on earth that holds a candle
to the ocean you carry inside your body.
it spills over your edges sometimes, like
a rain shower around you, blurring your penciled-in
lines until there is nothing left of you but your natural
cliffs, valleys, and deserts.
i like that.
i have never met someone who is, somehow,
a sea and a storm at the same time.
maybe i never will again.
maybe you are the only one
who gathers clouds on her forehead
like a promise, or feels the push and pull of the tide
with her every step.
you are beautiful, honestly.
you are honest, beautifully.
it is in the way you talk, the way you hold ice
on your tongue but forget to use it—
you always forget to use it, i don’t think
you know how.
to be truthful, i’m afraid of your smile
and how it breaks over me, how it pulls
me like a whirlpool down, how it pushes me
like a current back to the surface. i’m afraid of
the certainty of imminencei.
tomorrow spills over
inevitability-rapt and enveloping,
as wakefulness startles,
i'm caught up in past-time
i forge(t) myself in oblivion
midnight so hollow,
we all stop
with the clocks.
nothing looks the way it did
and i guess it seems
i'm blinkered, brevity-bound
in century footsteps forever stumbling,
always being blindsided
by the passing
Abuse Is Sometimes NecessaryPush and pull at her long hair, topple her to the solid ground,
elbow her sharply in the raw gut, shove her harshly around.
Scratch him in the pale face, punch him in the broken jaw,
do anything necessary to him that's considered breaking the law.
And when she cries because you've punched her, let her be,
and observe her when she returns to her habitual smoking.
When she passes out next day, because she's drunken too much booze,
slap her in the face once more, though many would consider it abuse.
When he can hardly walk because he thinks he's high in the clouds,
rip the needle out of his arm, and with your nails, slash him across the sweaty brow.
Grab them and shake them till their battered and bruised,
tear at their heart, scream in their ears until you've reached the point of verbal abuse.
And when she falls into your chest, and he collapses to the ground,
pull them closely, and whisper, “We can turn this all around.”
And rehab is a necessity for all of you, because you'v
Good (Great, Greater, Greatest, You)Good (Great, Greater, Greatest, You)
I hope the title caught your eye,
because this is about you.
Many of us speak in superlatives
and ambiguous language.
In imagery-laden text masquerading
underneath double entendres
keeping us from a part of the truth.
But purple streaks and red bands,
harp strings and soft hands
don't begin to explain
the love I have for you.
So I lay these words down
simple in its vulnerability,
blemished and raw in its purity.
The term lissome fits you in many ways,
but not necessarily it its textbook form.
I speak on the part that is not readily seen
but what is easily most cogent.
Your consciousness' cognizance
is graceful in the way
you fold one syllable over
another, supple in its meaning
that can take many forms
going from idle lies
to how we idolize hollow eyes
and uncovered hip bones.
Elegance is an understatement,
but I refuse to speak in cliche superlatives.
I speak honestly
but not with exaggerated grandeur.
Because your immediate app
ScienceI am more than my
F L A W S;
a masterpiece of
S C A R S
a delicacy of
D R E A M S
a sculpture of
B O N E S
R E A C T I O N
a well of
A broken heartI promised myself I'll never fall in love
Whenever I fall in love I feel renewed and happy
But like a drug
Once everything finishes
I'm crying, depressed and the wreckage of my heart
I always end up feeling worse
I want to find someone that is special
But I'm afraid to suffer again
I'm afraid of losing another person
Do not want to suffer
Do not make me suffer, do not lie to me
Do not hurt me, no more
I will not hold on to people who only sink me
I'll be free and live with have left
A cold and lonely spirit.
Deathyour time is here
you see a figure in the light
then you see one in the dark
and in the end you turn to the night
you walk to your death
and greet him like a lost friend
a long time foe
whose strength he would always lend
you smile no longer afraid
he holds out his hand
taking you in to your eternity of sleep
asking for company to deaths land
promising a secret
a secret finally found
you ask him about death
and wait for the sound
the old angel smiles
leaning in to tell you
to whisper to you his answer
and ends your life too
your life gone
in that small amount of space
you follow fast
and to the death you race
you die ending your life
waiting to see the new world
and what it has to hold
and the misted valley swirled
you would stay
stay while your heart raced
stay with your angel
in deaths embrace
The Coffee GodThe Coffee God behind the counter shuffles foot to foot, a dance of steam and espresso. Black painted fingernails, inch gauged ears and a gray striped sweatshirt, hood crooked on his back. There's a cigarette tucked behind one ear; it bobs and twitches with each step.
“Non-fat caramel latte,” he calls, just as he always does, part of a spell, part of a mantra, toneless (just a tuck at the end). I reach. He looks up.
The espresso maker hisses.
There's something like a grin, something like a spark, something like a shared secret linked eye to eye. When he passes over the drink (rough cardboard sleeve hot to the touch), he lingers. Our fingers brush, a shiver, a jolt, a ten-watt shock.
The Coffee God tilts his chin, shouts, “Hey, mind if I take my break now?”
and ducks around the counter without waiting for a reply.
He slips his cigarette between his lips without taking his eyes from mine. I follow him out the door.
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