Follow the black tar road-
See how it shines
A smooth glittery path ahead.
Winter breathes of smoke
Swirl through air:
Hot chocolate steam;
Small hand in mitten, larger in glove
Touch difficult beauty
Extra warmth succeeds struggle.
The black ice a blended trap-
Trickery of frozen ground
With sneering crows
Our bodies topple,
Land black-blue bruised
Atop web cracked glass.
Winter breathes of smoke
Crackle in air
From dragon's mouths;
Small hand in mitten, larger in glove
Touch metallic ice
Extra freeze burns fingertips.
Follow the black tar road-
See how it beckons
A self-destructive path ahead.
Abby picks at the petals of a rose
(No daisys around)
Pinches each so hard red stains her fingers
Splotching, like ripe cherries do
Hits "send" with a thumbprint smudged with scarlet.
Mark texts the words that could make a heart
Spray-paint two sets of initials on a decaying bridge
Thumb hovers over "send"
Flickers, as does the attic light,
Propped next to his cross-legged form,
Jeans speckled with dust.
Abby places the petals
In a wispy circle around her on gravel driveway
Imagines rich silk, soft as roses
Covering her in safety.
Mark hears it
Monster opposed to love, or produced from it,
(He will never know)
Feet sink into wet doughy sand-
Leaving etchings of shoe prints
Ground has suction-
Wants me to stay, stop running,
Sink.
Can't pause for breaths
That pound fists against lung walls
Beg with whiny voices
To be freed from hot iron cage.
Running after you, an addiction
Distances alter closer sometimes
(Allusion?)
Other times, your form a salty grain
On horizon,
Parallel to lapping waves.
Water seeps into shoes,
Pulls me in direction
Of moody green-black ocean,
Beckoning with soft hands,
Urging me to stop this chase.
Wonder what it's like
To have knowledge of a person
Running behind you, for you;
To know that if
Baby, It's Cold Outside by LemonyLessay, literature
Literature
Baby, It's Cold Outside
"Baby, it's cold outside."
I feel the shivers along my arms and legs; they crawl like spiders, but underneath my skin.
"I know," I say. Of course I know. For a moment I hate Ron for stating the obvious, for bringing the oily truth to the surface. But then I look up at him, my leaning tower of Pisa, and follow his dark blue eyes to a window.
Through the window I see a smiling clichéd suburban family mother passing around a plate piled high with ham, dad telling a "dad joke" no doubt, two kids pretending to listen, although one keeps glancing down at the cell phone they hold on their lap. It looks
Fell into the puddle
Drenched in your flimsy adoration
I stand tall let it drip off me
I let myself get pulled in
Slipped under the covers
Warm with your attention
But then you left
The air began to cool
I started to shiver
Covered in shadow
All alone
When I lifted up the blanket
Painful sunlight filled my eyes
Your form far away
Head bent down to hold
Her hair, kiss her gently
Fell into the puddle
Drenched in your flimsy adoration
I stand tall let it drip off me.
Follow the black tar road-
See how it shines
A smooth glittery path ahead.
Winter breathes of smoke
Swirl through air:
Hot chocolate steam;
Small hand in mitten, larger in glove
Touch difficult beauty
Extra warmth succeeds struggle.
The black ice a blended trap-
Trickery of frozen ground
With sneering crows
Our bodies topple,
Land black-blue bruised
Atop web cracked glass.
Winter breathes of smoke
Crackle in air
From dragon's mouths;
Small hand in mitten, larger in glove
Touch metallic ice
Extra freeze burns fingertips.
Follow the black tar road-
See how it beckons
A self-destructive path ahead.
Abby picks at the petals of a rose
(No daisys around)
Pinches each so hard red stains her fingers
Splotching, like ripe cherries do
Hits "send" with a thumbprint smudged with scarlet.
Mark texts the words that could make a heart
Spray-paint two sets of initials on a decaying bridge
Thumb hovers over "send"
Flickers, as does the attic light,
Propped next to his cross-legged form,
Jeans speckled with dust.
Abby places the petals
In a wispy circle around her on gravel driveway
Imagines rich silk, soft as roses
Covering her in safety.
Mark hears it
Monster opposed to love, or produced from it,
(He will never know)
Feet sink into wet doughy sand-
Leaving etchings of shoe prints
Ground has suction-
Wants me to stay, stop running,
Sink.
Can't pause for breaths
That pound fists against lung walls
Beg with whiny voices
To be freed from hot iron cage.
Running after you, an addiction
Distances alter closer sometimes
(Allusion?)
Other times, your form a salty grain
On horizon,
Parallel to lapping waves.
Water seeps into shoes,
Pulls me in direction
Of moody green-black ocean,
Beckoning with soft hands,
Urging me to stop this chase.
Wonder what it's like
To have knowledge of a person
Running behind you, for you;
To know that if
Baby, It's Cold Outside by LemonyLessay, literature
Literature
Baby, It's Cold Outside
"Baby, it's cold outside."
I feel the shivers along my arms and legs; they crawl like spiders, but underneath my skin.
"I know," I say. Of course I know. For a moment I hate Ron for stating the obvious, for bringing the oily truth to the surface. But then I look up at him, my leaning tower of Pisa, and follow his dark blue eyes to a window.
Through the window I see a smiling clichéd suburban family mother passing around a plate piled high with ham, dad telling a "dad joke" no doubt, two kids pretending to listen, although one keeps glancing down at the cell phone they hold on their lap. It looks
Fell into the puddle
Drenched in your flimsy adoration
I stand tall let it drip off me
I let myself get pulled in
Slipped under the covers
Warm with your attention
But then you left
The air began to cool
I started to shiver
Covered in shadow
All alone
When I lifted up the blanket
Painful sunlight filled my eyes
Your form far away
Head bent down to hold
Her hair, kiss her gently
Fell into the puddle
Drenched in your flimsy adoration
I stand tall let it drip off me.
Why do you call her
naiive
with a sneer so judgmental?
Maybe it's because you wish you
Yourself,
Could still be that
innocent-
But you bowed to lipstick
And eyeliner and fishnets
And men and the cold
Bathroom floors.
Your heart is intertwined
With threads
Of cynicism
You miss being
pure
Even though when you were,
You every night wished not to be
So pathetically unknown
Oh, the irony
At both periods
look outside the window by stains-on-myheart, literature
Literature
look outside the window
If you crawl underneath my covers
on a brightly lit
city night,
shut your eyes
and it feels like you're running away.
if you look outside the window:
there should be stars in the sky
but there are none.
why has the moon thrown them all away?
maybe the moon has run out of glue
and can't afford to paste the little stars up anymore
or maybe he's done pretending that his sky is beautiful
when really it's just
black.
maybe I should let him borrow my tape
because when everything is so sad down here
it would be nice to see something sparkle
once and a while.
but if I give him my tape
my glue
I'll surely fall apart again
and the
Midnight Meltdown by stains-on-myheart, literature
Literature
Midnight Meltdown
rain
washing us closer together,
pushing us further apart.
wading in the syrup we've created,
leaves drenched and sticky
attempt to tape us back together again
falling softly across our flesh
and the sky continues to ooze
drops of red
blue
and all of the above,
rolling over the ragged bumps
dropping into the valleys
we created
between the curves of our bodies.
and they
keep falling
through a mixture of all that was
and will forever be
even when
I'm sorry-
forever is lost,
and everything falls in the end.
Feet sink into wet doughy sand-
Leaving etchings of shoe prints
Ground has suction-
Wants me to stay, stop running,
Sink.
Can't pause for breaths
That pound fists against lung walls
Beg with whiny voices
To be freed from hot iron cage.
Running after you, an addiction
Distances alter closer sometimes
(Allusion?)
Other times, your form a salty grain
On horizon,
Parallel to lapping waves.
Water seeps into shoes,
Pulls me in direction
Of moody green-black ocean,
Beckoning with soft hands,
Urging me to stop this chase.
Wonder what it's like
To have knowledge of a person
Running behind you, for you;
To know that if
Favourite genre of music: Pop, light rock, dance Favourite style of art: Writing, photography Favourite cartoon character: Lisa Simpson :) Personal Quote: "I hate stupid people."
Hey, to everyone checking out my art. Thanks for all the views and all the favorites. If you have any questions about my poetry or photography, feel free to ask. I haven't published anything on this site for awhile, but eventually I probably will again.
Hope everyone is doing well. :)
So my sleep schedule's messed up (meaning I can't sleep-in anymore…) and I haven't done a journal entry in awhile and I don't feel like being productive, so…quiz time! 
TEN HOW'S:
How did you get one of your scars?
Appendectomy. I think it's cute.
How did you celebrate your last birthday?
Sleep-over with my favorites, because I'm never too old for sleep-overs.
How are you feeling at this moment?
Really good.
How did your night go last night?
Worked, then went to bed very early for me. Dreamed about things I don't really remember.
How did you do in high school?
Very well. :)
How did you get the shirt you're weari
Aww, I'm so happy. One of my poems has gotten 20 faves -- the most out of any of my pieces. :aww: Thanks to all my friends for your continued support! It really means a lot.
Hope all is well. I'm rather content with my life as it currently is. Can't wait to go to Europe next fall...
I need to write and submit more! And photography, too. I need to go out and take more pictures...
Okay, that is all. Just wanted to share my joy. :D