i got sleeved in the face. she just pulled the sleeve until it became slag and slapped me with it. i couldn’t believe that little shit. Who sleeves their one mother? only that mind, of a spoiled brat would go there. I bet she learned it from her father.
Samantha
Hiding the scars down her arm, she pulls her sleeves down. She wouldn’t want the cute boy across from her to think she is a monster. She is good. Just troubled.
Steven
i love when i roll up my sleeves. it shows the liner of the inside of my blazer and it give my outfit a bit of a twist.
j sanchez
She pulled out the coveted record, sleeved in the infamous shade of red unique to the band all of her friends adored. We all hated her, as she haughtily hugged that record to her her undeserving little chest.
Out of her bag, she pulled the coveted record, sleeved in the infamous shade of red unique to her favorite band. We all looked on, mouths agape–what was on that record?
Thao
Somehow, the long-sleeved shirt kept riding up, until it was above her belly-button. Lovingly, her dad pulled it down and placed her back on the horse. “Be careful,” he told her, but she had already ridden away.
Realia
There is a shirt, somewhere. It has the name and the faces of everyone you’ve ever loved, smiling up at you.
But people walk right past it, because of the sleeves.
On the sleeves are me, loving you.
But the people, you see, don’t love me at all.
Her arms were sleeved in lace, and looking at it now, it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. She looked like some sort of old-fashioned actress, and for a few moments I thought I had the courage to talk to her.
Sarah
Something of a shit. A plaid one, a plain one. It’s a simple word, one that can mean so much in so little. If you ask for someone to purchase you a shirt, they may get sleeved or sleeveless. This is my opinion, in all honesty this is a quite plain word.
Skye
His arm couldn’t find the hole. He kept searching and searching, looking for the solution. His whole body trembled with anger. How was he supposed to go on his date unprepared?
He kept searching. He had on arm in, where did the other one go? A low growl escaped his throat.
He turned on the light, annoyed that getting dressed wasn’t as quick and easy as usual. Looking down at the annoyance before him, his eyes opened in both shock, humiliation and annoyance.
It was then he realised…
He was trying to wear his pants as a shirt.
Skye Cusack
Her sleeve of white fur bristled against my face as I wrote a story about her. “Not now, Kitty!” She meowed away and rubbed against my computer. She’s a little poot.
Owen
A dress that is kind of ugly sits in the closet. It practically hisses with it horrible torn sleevs and its stuff. Oh ys the sleeved dreess. Tis the ugliest thing I ever did
Owen
The fabric brushed against the scar-tissue on my wrists. Always warm. Always painful. The moment may be distant, but the memory was still as vivid as the first time. Cold fingers holding the wrist, stop it’s shaking. Trying to forget.
Maeve MacTire
the recipes that cannot slide under the plastic-covered pages are sleeved in the back of each section, stuck in the recipe book forever because she doesn’t cook, she only eats and drinks
P J Colando
Bellicose gargoyles ruminated. Knights of clay baked bravely under the noonday sun, waiting to fend off the onslaught that never came. The castle’s flag was just a long-sleeved shirt on a stick.
dufis
This first makes me think of sweaters. I love sweaters. The best time to wear a striped sweater is all the time. One with a collar, turtleneck: that’s the kind. Sleeves are always a good thing. Especially on long sleeved shirts. Those are my favorite kind of shirts. If you’re in the wild you could survive very well if you have a long sleeved shirt.
maggie
i am sleeved all day long. just with short sleeved arms. how about you? do you where short sleeved shirts too on hot summer days? Well, I do and they are amazing.
Nicholas Henry
Her arms were sleeved, to the world she was cold, to herself, she was hiding the ugly scars of self inflicted harm. Her sleeved arms itched, her scars burning. Her girlfriend asked her why she didn’t like showers. She replied, hiding her sleeved arms behind her back and whispered only 5 broken words; “They burn under the water.” Her girlfriend knew exactly what she meant and she broke down crying, she ran to her girlfriend to calm her. “I’m sorry Maddy..” She whispered, she didn’t want to cause Sebrena tears, she didn’t want Sebrena to think that she didn’t do anything to help her. Sebrena helped her a lot through her break downs. “I love you Maddy..please stop cutting..” Sebrena whispered to Maddy. She sniffed and whimpered out a strangled word. “O-okay…I’ll try.”.
Damion
Her arms were sleeved, to the world she was cold, to herself, she was hiding the ugly scars of self inflicted harm. Her sleeved arms itched, her scars burning. Her girlfriend asked her why she didn’t like showers. She replied, hiding her sleeved arms behind her back and whispered only 5 broken words; “They burn under the water.” Her girlfriend knew exactly what she meant and she broke down crying, she ran to her girlfriend to calm her. “I’m sorry Maddy..” She whispered, she didn’t want to cause Sebrena tears, she didn’t want Sebrena to think that she didn’t do anything to help her. Sebrena helped her a lot through her break downs. “I love you Maddy..please stop cutting..” Sebrena whispered to Maddy. She sniffed and whimpered out a strangled word. “O-okay…I’ll try.”
Damion
She had my heart sleeved and tucked away on her shelf. I was her favorite book. My pages were filled with the stories of our endless love.
He wraps me tight in his long-sleeved jacket. I can feel his warm beating heart. I know I can trust someone in this cold world. I let the tears fall, because I know they’ll sink into his protecting jacket.
Jokesterly
I pull down my sleeves. I’m that shy.. So modest.. I don’t even want anyone to see my arms.
My arms have so many scars, so many stories. So many… I would tell you all of them but I don’t have the time.
The scroll was sleeved in a delicate fabric that was bright crimson. I pulled it off, eagerly unrolling the scroll. “Dearest Joanna,” it read, “It pains me to say this, but your mother is a victim of the plague.”
Sleeves are a big deal to some people for some reason. I get harsh looks sometimes because my upper arms are showing. Some people hate their arms and cover them up. Guys tend to look good with their button-down shirt sleeves pushed up. I want to have sleeves on my wedding dress, but if you search for “sleeved wedding dresses” you get a bunch of weird elvish-looking dresses.
Victoria
i did not cut myself in half today, i fingered the scissors in the draw for a little while and imagined myself unfurling like a new kitten, or a yarn, or my organs unravelling like tiny sleeves of a whale’s childhood jumper. i am comfortable in your womb, a scarf which wraps around me.
the sleeves of her sweater wrap away at her true person.
that’s her shelter.
she doesn’t need an explanation behind her sleeves, she can hide so much.
but also, wear so much on them.
like her pride and her emotions.
while concealing them at the same time.
ryan
“How typical. What’s next? Before you know it you’re layering long-sleeved shirts over short-sleeved shirts over long-sleeved shirts.”
I rolled my eyes. “I refuse to continue having this conversation as long as YOU insist on using Family Guy quotes against me.”
I made it green, I took its forearms, and let them be covered, let them be filled.
The end of their arms let me see inside their clothedness.
Nathan
I don’t know how to write about a word I can’t even give a definition for. How can you be “sleeved”? Maybe in the case that you “sleeve” a computer when you put it in a case. or you get “sleeved” when you get a tatto that covers your whole arm.
Madison was purple-sleeved and silver-cuffed, and her hair was tied back loosely in a braid. She walked onto that stage with all the Shakespearean charisma necessary to bring justice to the idioms of the bard. She was a magnificent tragedian in the all-girl cast, bringing more bravado to the role of Hamlet than most men that her director father had seen in performances past.
Belinda Roddie
I felt sleeved when we are busy because i just hate it. Sleeved is the bad work to me because it isn’t fun, also it is very boring way to start of the new life. Sleeves it is very bad person who always want to drag people. Sleeved is the swear word and I don’t care about it. This is very upseting to me and my family.
Kenneth Zhu
i like to roll up my sleeves when i wear shirts – especially shirts that are too big for me; men’s shirts. i usually take my father’s, or a friend’s – a gay friend’s – but secretly, i hope that one day, i’ll have the kind of boyfriend who gives me one of his shirts in the morning. for now, i have the kind of boyfriend who just wears t-shirts – but perhaps one day, i’ll outgrow him, like people outgrow shirts.
CC
He looked so dashing in his long sleeved white shirt with the exquisite French cuff links. You just can’t beat a man whose all dressed up and has confidence oozing out of every pore. Yep there goes my Prince Charming.
No matter how lonely I was, this sweater would always remind me of you. I just had to warp the sleeves around my waist to feel you beside me, warming my heart.
She was dressed in nothing but sleeved garments and a tattered skirt that fell just short of her wrinkled knees. Her eyes looked as if they’d seen a war, and her shallow cheeks looked like they had something to say, but lacked the energy to do so. As I went to say hello, so turned around and ran away.
My red arms are sleeved by cloth and sadness. I lift the fabric only to paint my ivory canvas with razor paintbrush that only uses red.
Audrey
Sleeved? I’ mot entirely sure what that even means. Sleeved… Is it about a shirt? “Never wear you heart on your sleeve,” they say. Or maybe it’s, “Wear your heart on your sleeve.” I don’t know. It’s not like I care anyway.
Sleeved arms touching. Do you know your name. Or ours? How’s it like to be a human? How’s it like to touch the sores on my arm? Sleeved, you’ll never see them. But I carry them to bed. I pick at them when the moon hits me just right.
i have to dress up for this ocasion i have to play nice and wear this long sleeved shirt that my mother got me for christmas yet i hate the way i look but at least this can cover up the scars.
tattoos. scammed. covered. hiding. soul. distraught. tired. burning. light. pick me up. surrender. tears. grief.
i got sleeved in the face. she just pulled the sleeve until it became slag and slapped me with it. i couldn’t believe that little shit. Who sleeves their one mother? only that mind, of a spoiled brat would go there. I bet she learned it from her father.
Hiding the scars down her arm, she pulls her sleeves down. She wouldn’t want the cute boy across from her to think she is a monster. She is good. Just troubled.
i love when i roll up my sleeves. it shows the liner of the inside of my blazer and it give my outfit a bit of a twist.
She pulled out the coveted record, sleeved in the infamous shade of red unique to the band all of her friends adored. We all hated her, as she haughtily hugged that record to her her undeserving little chest.
Out of her bag, she pulled the coveted record, sleeved in the infamous shade of red unique to her favorite band. We all looked on, mouths agape–what was on that record?
Somehow, the long-sleeved shirt kept riding up, until it was above her belly-button. Lovingly, her dad pulled it down and placed her back on the horse. “Be careful,” he told her, but she had already ridden away.
There is a shirt, somewhere. It has the name and the faces of everyone you’ve ever loved, smiling up at you.
But people walk right past it, because of the sleeves.
On the sleeves are me, loving you.
But the people, you see, don’t love me at all.
Her arms were sleeved in lace, and looking at it now, it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. She looked like some sort of old-fashioned actress, and for a few moments I thought I had the courage to talk to her.
Something of a shit. A plaid one, a plain one. It’s a simple word, one that can mean so much in so little. If you ask for someone to purchase you a shirt, they may get sleeved or sleeveless. This is my opinion, in all honesty this is a quite plain word.
His arm couldn’t find the hole. He kept searching and searching, looking for the solution. His whole body trembled with anger. How was he supposed to go on his date unprepared?
He kept searching. He had on arm in, where did the other one go? A low growl escaped his throat.
He turned on the light, annoyed that getting dressed wasn’t as quick and easy as usual. Looking down at the annoyance before him, his eyes opened in both shock, humiliation and annoyance.
It was then he realised…
He was trying to wear his pants as a shirt.
Her sleeve of white fur bristled against my face as I wrote a story about her. “Not now, Kitty!” She meowed away and rubbed against my computer. She’s a little poot.
A dress that is kind of ugly sits in the closet. It practically hisses with it horrible torn sleevs and its stuff. Oh ys the sleeved dreess. Tis the ugliest thing I ever did
The fabric brushed against the scar-tissue on my wrists. Always warm. Always painful. The moment may be distant, but the memory was still as vivid as the first time. Cold fingers holding the wrist, stop it’s shaking. Trying to forget.
the recipes that cannot slide under the plastic-covered pages are sleeved in the back of each section, stuck in the recipe book forever because she doesn’t cook, she only eats and drinks
Bellicose gargoyles ruminated. Knights of clay baked bravely under the noonday sun, waiting to fend off the onslaught that never came. The castle’s flag was just a long-sleeved shirt on a stick.
This first makes me think of sweaters. I love sweaters. The best time to wear a striped sweater is all the time. One with a collar, turtleneck: that’s the kind. Sleeves are always a good thing. Especially on long sleeved shirts. Those are my favorite kind of shirts. If you’re in the wild you could survive very well if you have a long sleeved shirt.
i am sleeved all day long. just with short sleeved arms. how about you? do you where short sleeved shirts too on hot summer days? Well, I do and they are amazing.
Her arms were sleeved, to the world she was cold, to herself, she was hiding the ugly scars of self inflicted harm. Her sleeved arms itched, her scars burning. Her girlfriend asked her why she didn’t like showers. She replied, hiding her sleeved arms behind her back and whispered only 5 broken words; “They burn under the water.” Her girlfriend knew exactly what she meant and she broke down crying, she ran to her girlfriend to calm her. “I’m sorry Maddy..” She whispered, she didn’t want to cause Sebrena tears, she didn’t want Sebrena to think that she didn’t do anything to help her. Sebrena helped her a lot through her break downs. “I love you Maddy..please stop cutting..” Sebrena whispered to Maddy. She sniffed and whimpered out a strangled word. “O-okay…I’ll try.”.
Her arms were sleeved, to the world she was cold, to herself, she was hiding the ugly scars of self inflicted harm. Her sleeved arms itched, her scars burning. Her girlfriend asked her why she didn’t like showers. She replied, hiding her sleeved arms behind her back and whispered only 5 broken words; “They burn under the water.” Her girlfriend knew exactly what she meant and she broke down crying, she ran to her girlfriend to calm her. “I’m sorry Maddy..” She whispered, she didn’t want to cause Sebrena tears, she didn’t want Sebrena to think that she didn’t do anything to help her. Sebrena helped her a lot through her break downs. “I love you Maddy..please stop cutting..” Sebrena whispered to Maddy. She sniffed and whimpered out a strangled word. “O-okay…I’ll try.”
She had my heart sleeved and tucked away on her shelf. I was her favorite book. My pages were filled with the stories of our endless love.
He wraps me tight in his long-sleeved jacket. I can feel his warm beating heart. I know I can trust someone in this cold world. I let the tears fall, because I know they’ll sink into his protecting jacket.
I pull down my sleeves. I’m that shy.. So modest.. I don’t even want anyone to see my arms.
My arms have so many scars, so many stories. So many… I would tell you all of them but I don’t have the time.
The scroll was sleeved in a delicate fabric that was bright crimson. I pulled it off, eagerly unrolling the scroll. “Dearest Joanna,” it read, “It pains me to say this, but your mother is a victim of the plague.”
Sleeves are a big deal to some people for some reason. I get harsh looks sometimes because my upper arms are showing. Some people hate their arms and cover them up. Guys tend to look good with their button-down shirt sleeves pushed up. I want to have sleeves on my wedding dress, but if you search for “sleeved wedding dresses” you get a bunch of weird elvish-looking dresses.
i did not cut myself in half today, i fingered the scissors in the draw for a little while and imagined myself unfurling like a new kitten, or a yarn, or my organs unravelling like tiny sleeves of a whale’s childhood jumper. i am comfortable in your womb, a scarf which wraps around me.
the sleeves of her sweater wrap away at her true person.
that’s her shelter.
she doesn’t need an explanation behind her sleeves, she can hide so much.
but also, wear so much on them.
like her pride and her emotions.
while concealing them at the same time.
“How typical. What’s next? Before you know it you’re layering long-sleeved shirts over short-sleeved shirts over long-sleeved shirts.”
I rolled my eyes. “I refuse to continue having this conversation as long as YOU insist on using Family Guy quotes against me.”
I made it green, I took its forearms, and let them be covered, let them be filled.
The end of their arms let me see inside their clothedness.
I don’t know how to write about a word I can’t even give a definition for. How can you be “sleeved”? Maybe in the case that you “sleeve” a computer when you put it in a case. or you get “sleeved” when you get a tatto that covers your whole arm.
Madison was purple-sleeved and silver-cuffed, and her hair was tied back loosely in a braid. She walked onto that stage with all the Shakespearean charisma necessary to bring justice to the idioms of the bard. She was a magnificent tragedian in the all-girl cast, bringing more bravado to the role of Hamlet than most men that her director father had seen in performances past.
I felt sleeved when we are busy because i just hate it. Sleeved is the bad work to me because it isn’t fun, also it is very boring way to start of the new life. Sleeves it is very bad person who always want to drag people. Sleeved is the swear word and I don’t care about it. This is very upseting to me and my family.
i like to roll up my sleeves when i wear shirts – especially shirts that are too big for me; men’s shirts. i usually take my father’s, or a friend’s – a gay friend’s – but secretly, i hope that one day, i’ll have the kind of boyfriend who gives me one of his shirts in the morning. for now, i have the kind of boyfriend who just wears t-shirts – but perhaps one day, i’ll outgrow him, like people outgrow shirts.
He looked so dashing in his long sleeved white shirt with the exquisite French cuff links. You just can’t beat a man whose all dressed up and has confidence oozing out of every pore. Yep there goes my Prince Charming.
No matter how lonely I was, this sweater would always remind me of you. I just had to warp the sleeves around my waist to feel you beside me, warming my heart.
She was dressed in nothing but sleeved garments and a tattered skirt that fell just short of her wrinkled knees. Her eyes looked as if they’d seen a war, and her shallow cheeks looked like they had something to say, but lacked the energy to do so. As I went to say hello, so turned around and ran away.
My red arms are sleeved by cloth and sadness. I lift the fabric only to paint my ivory canvas with razor paintbrush that only uses red.
Sleeved? I’ mot entirely sure what that even means. Sleeved… Is it about a shirt? “Never wear you heart on your sleeve,” they say. Or maybe it’s, “Wear your heart on your sleeve.” I don’t know. It’s not like I care anyway.
Sleeved arms touching. Do you know your name. Or ours? How’s it like to be a human? How’s it like to touch the sores on my arm? Sleeved, you’ll never see them. But I carry them to bed. I pick at them when the moon hits me just right.
i have to dress up for this ocasion i have to play nice and wear this long sleeved shirt that my mother got me for christmas yet i hate the way i look but at least this can cover up the scars.