siriuslyremus34
Cover up my green eyes?
I think they were once funcitonal. It used to be that you'd put them on, and voi la! The gift of sight in bright places. Now they're a fashion statement. The bigger the better, everyone! Which is astoundingly weird when you think about it. Eyes are one of the prettiest part of anyone, why would you want to cover them up with as much as possible?
She wears a crown but no one knows what's really going on inside that head of hers.
She longs to be free,
to live a life with...meaning.
Unrestricted
By the wills of her father, the calls of the people,
the needs of the kingdom,
The wonders of the palace.
Even if it means forsaking her prince charming.
she's not a normal girl, this princess.
Something no one truly is. Everyone is unbalanced in someway. Everyone has some glaring gap, and everyone is fucked up. No one can be perfect. And it's those imperfections that we can find to love in one another, that make us who we are and drive us to be the people we want to be. They're our motivations. Our instabilities.
The sweeping, plummeting, moving, cascading fanfares sounded in her head to deafen the noise of the real world. The soft, spirited melodies and the dramatic, quieted moments swept her away from her trivial concerns and into a life where nothing mattered except the bow in her hand and the sound of the strings. The vibrations themselves seemed to exist as their own life force, their own energy, their very own being.
Dozens of beautifully colored strips of paper lay piled around her in an organized chaos. she lifted each one in turn, flipping them to their back sides so they would dry an even texture. She had the lights on dim, to avoid altering the colors she had worked so long and used so many dyes to make. As the papers began to dry she began to tear them into smaller strips and pieces to make her end result. she worked witht he prints for hours, wading through a moss of soggy paper until, before her very eyes, artwork unfolded. It was as if she was only the messenger, allowing it to come to the world. It wanted to be there. She looked around her and all she saw was a room full of beautiful, faceless people made of prints. All of them looked so different and so lost in their own emotions that she smiled, for they were her and she was them.
He turned is face toward hers, light glittering in the moistness of his eyes. And she knew right then that no matter what happened, no matter what she had done, he would love her. He would forgive her. His look held such a tender, loving compassion that it made her heart melt. She was his. She had always been his, and she would always be her his. "Take me". She said, and together they fell.
A stupid, stupid, corny ass song. I really am not a huge fan. But umbrellas themselves I really like. They can shine like beacons in the rain. When everything around is gloomy and grey, the umbrellas around can all be bright and shining orbs in the otherwise depressed landscape. And they keep you safe and protected from nature; though once in a while I would consider it a good idea to just walk and dance in the rain.
The sweet, sickly smell rose up from the glass, invisible. It seemed not even to be there, which, you would think, would make it harmless. But as she watched the last few drops fall out of the vial she knew that when his lips touched it, he could never, ever come back.
A bright sphere floating in the top of my vision. My eyes blur in the light, as a stare around me at a concrete ceiling and dirty walls. I try to move and realize I cannot. Where am I? I look blearily around and my eyes flit back to the only recognizable shape in the room: the bright white light bulb. I take comfort in the light when all else seems to be confusion.
If I had wings I would give them to you. I would give them to you like I have given you my heart, and together we could fly. We could see the universe together, you and I. We could be magical. And we could share in our love just as you share in my wings.
Flight is a beautiful gift. To fly would mean everything to us. I hope someday you'll fly with me.
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writing since 2011 · 16 entries · 16 days shown up
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