Viewing member 1 to 13 (of 13 active members)
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emptycarousels - - "Just one thought, and my heart’s still beating fast One single memory of a person from the past. "View -
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photicaphotic - - "I should spend every moment kissing you. For all the times I couldn’t, for all the nights I spent tossing and turning wishing for nothing more than the scent of you beside me, and the freedom to kiss your temple while you slept, unaware of the roiling and growing and burning of my love and my longing. "View -
thirteenthwind - - "Never allow someone to become a priority in your life when you’re just an option in his. "View -
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chamomilecourier - - "His thoughts float about the room, dancing with the spiraling particles of dust that had been disturbed from their stationary positions with the slam of his hand against the table. He starts pacing. Back and forth. Back and forth. "View -
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beppyweppy - - "Silence bears down; a cacophony of loneliness as I sit, surrounded by empty canvases and a palette full of inarticulate desire. Thunder threatens to break the hazy light of seeming calm as it settles into the night air, reminding me to close my window. But the weight of emptiness paralyzes my limbs, though my hand closes around a paintbrush. And though I sit bound by stillness, colors dance behind open lids to the beat of my heart pulsing in my left wrist: strokes of crimson regret fading in and out under the overlay of a wistful moon’s azure reflection. But the brightest patterns dissipate into hesitation before my tired fingers can distinguish their form. And I remain alone, but for the hum of night whistling through my open window, and a lap-full of blank canvas: a testament to indecision. "View -
subtlewhispers - - "My body aches for a warm bed But I won’t let it rest It doesn’t understand It will never see There’s a paradise inside my mind One that’s bursting to be set free The words pour out my fingers Making my knuckles dance They’re trying to sing the song of the desperate Quickly they release their silent chant This is a poem for an artist A melody for a madman For when the body aches for contentment Is when true creation begins "View
