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A Moment in the Night SkyLast night I went outside and saw the sky. It was cold, though not bitter, and the clouds were cast over in shades of white and grey. The trees were dark against the clouds. One in particular stood out, the leaves had fallen and it was thin and blackened by the night. The tree in fact looked dried and dead. But just beyond it was a break in the clouds. Navy blue stood out in contrast with the clouds.
There were no stars, no shining elements to attract attention.
Or rather distract.
Blue, showing through the cold grey that blanketed the area like snow. I felt comforted. At home in the greyness because I knew there was a break in the clouds. I relished in it for a moment. I took a breath and felt the coolness run through me.
The clouds were not moving.
I wanted to be naked. To feel the chill on my skin. To touch the clouds, the wide space so high above me.
An area in the sky was charred a grey-black. It was far from where I stood and I knew it had already passed o
From the BalconyThe view from the balcony is hiding between the smog and buildings. Rising high from the ground are the school boy dormitories, caught up in a scholastic cycle. Horns beeping, cars passing, a sea of life half visible in the polluted air.
The city is infected.
My horizon consists of man made, architectural madness. Twenty stories, thirty stories, ten stories, all aligning against the sun. It's cold and I see the breath rising out of my companion's mouth. The air is thicker. A rail is blocking us from going off the edge, but the smog is infiltrating; swirling around and blocking our view. Cement against cement. Apartments and dormitories, sunlight reflecting off of the clouded air.
An afternoon in Yangzhou, China.
I Don't RememberI don't remember the things I've forgotten
All of the fleeting thoughts that have passed through my mind
Moments of affectionate touches that has gone-
by the wayside
I don't remember the feel of a man's lips on mine
So long has it been since they have been-
I don't remember the desert air
The hot, dry feeling against my skin
Sand blowing against my face
Heat rising from the ground
I don’t remember those hands I once adored
The shape or length-
of the hands that used to caress me-
I don't remember how many kisses I've had
Too many or too few-
the number escapes me
Dozens, hundreds, or thousands
I will never know the answer
I don't remember all of the things I've wanted
Wanted so much and yet I can't say what they are
Insignificant when the world is seen
Through clearer eyes
I don't remember when I realized-
how in love I've been-
with one man
For too many years
Or too few
I don't remember what it is I am supposed to do-
with my life
Out in the real world
I just wa
Lake GardaLake Garda by Alynne Sharp
2005 Acrylic on Canvas collection of Dr. Phillip Sharp
The winding road ascends and drops out of sight in a sharp descent around a bend, disappearing between the trees. Hard and cold, the road offers me no refuge from the white and grey sky, the icy chill of the empty lake.
Trees lost to the power of autumn, grow taller almost reaching the sky. They outshine the ones that have lost their color and died, not long after the summer breeze turned cold. The dark brown figures are miniscule in the distance. A storm is coming in the winds and waves of this forbidden land. No light to offer me but for the orange dirt that remains bright before the storm.
I walk along this road not knowing where it will lead me once I pass the cold waters and dead forest that lie ahead. Beyond that I see nothing.
The autumn trees are the only living things next to me in a desolate land of burnt dust and frozen air. A color peaks through the clouds, a faint blue almost
Letter VIIIIt's hard.
Day after day knowing the truth and yet hoping I mean something else to you. Seeing the reflection of me, in you, and yet you don't really see me. Not the way I want to be seen.
Always do I wait for you. I give you whatever you need. Always am I thinking of you and I wonder, if you think of me. I always feel alone at the end of every day and every night when I lie awake and wonder what it is I mean to you. I hate you.
But I know it's a lie whenever I say it. Because in reality I love you, with every fiber of my being, I love you more. More every day and every night, and I dream of you all through the night.
I once dreamed that I was lost and I needed you. But I couldn't find you. Try and try as I might I couldn't find you and I was scared. So scared and terrified and I realized then that I was alone.
And then I woke.
And I was still alone.
I'm alone on a cliff of words and lies. At the peak controlling every word I say to you fearing what you will hear, what y
Someday My Prince Will ComeSomeday my prince will come
And he will say 'I love you'
And we will not sing spontaneously
But smile and provide me with the patience I need
But might not ask for directions when he's lost
Someday my prince will come
I don't know what he will look like
Or what his voice sounds like
But he will accept my love for coffee-
Someday my prince will come
And we will dance late at night-
In a slow revolve to jazz music
And he will say 'I love you,' quietly
Someday my prince will come with takeout food
Like Chinese or pizza-
And we will drink and watch a movie-
Comfortably on the sofa
Or even sit on the floor
Someday my prince will come with a smile
A careless one that shows his teeth
And a laugh, half chuckled
Because something funny happened that day
Someday my prince will come home with flowers
Something pretty and brightly colored
For an anniversary-
That I probably forgot about
Or was it my birthday?
Someday my prince will come home with tools
To fix a leak or repair som
Davey Now I don't know all the facts about it, who hit who, and I don't know the name of the guy who should've died, but after that˗˗life started to really suck.
Maybe it was already bad and I hadn't noticed. Maybe Dad was already having an affair with this guy named Eric, and Mom knew. When my sister Allison died, that's when I noticed things were bad.
"Move over," said Michael. I did and he took a seat on the cracked pavement. His blonde hair was matted against his head from the heat, and his skin gleamed from sweat. The streetlight down the road flickered, and went out. The closest light now was from ABC liquor store across from us. I guess the 'B' broke because it just said A C Liquor.
"Do you ever wonder about shit?" I asked. Michael held his sweaty hand out, and I handed him the rest of my joint. I didn't smoke it. I tried a bunch of times before but I ended up coughing, so I let it burn to make it look like I did.
"Like crap or like stuff?" he aske
Brick Did you know that you were the color of mocha? Yes mocha. You remind me of a good cup of coffee. Unlike coffee, you are slanted at the top ever so slightly to the right. You're missing pieces here and there and in one spot you're white. Stretched and lined you are on the surface with many holes, some deeper than others. You are no larger than the length between the tips of my fingers to the middle of my arm, several inches short of my elbow. You have six sides; some short some long and wide. While you are not particularly even you are symmetrical in your own right.
A Thousand ThingsIf I were to write a thousand things about you
I would say that I hate you
But only sometimes
I love you more often
Than the times that I hate you
Which is only sometimes
More like … rarely
Did you know….
I love your smile?
A thousand things to write
Is a lot
Need your embrace
A moment to say-
I love you
I need a moment
I need affection
A moment where
I love you
There should never be pauses in passion
This isn't passion
It's just pauses and my resigned nature
If I could say a thousand things
About the way I feel-
I would say…
That I think about you
At war with myself
Everything is a mess
But at least my shoes are nice-
Away from you
I don't know anymore
My feet move
I'm here with you
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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