

crime scene?There was a chalk outline of your heart in my driveway, where my daisies used to be. There is no caution tape. I cannot help but feel uneasy; your aorta stares up at me from the blood-black asphalt every time I try to get the mail. Every ventricle is still, perfect, pristine. My heart is pumping furiously, and your goddamn vena cava is just sitting there. It makes me want to tear you to pieces. I liked the daisies better.crime scene?


I, too.I, too, sing America.I, too.
I am your son or daughter. I live in fear, I love in hiding. I search for rainbows, but I am forced to shed my colors
and live between phosphorescent shades of grey.
But my love is fierce. And as lips crush and bodies touch, and our limbs tangle with leaves and branches,
we are not afraid. Tomorrow,
they will love as we love. Tomorrow,
no one will dare call us sick. Tomorrow,
no one will dare tell us we are wrong.
Tomorrow,
when sinners and saints alike


come closer.she doesn't even know him. she doesn't even know enough to pretend. the shroud of ambiguity he so haphazardly throws over himself isn't quite opaque, but translucent enough to obscure whatever colours might appear aesthetic to her eyes. he is the artist, with charcoal eyes and only the hint of a smile. he carelessly throws her emotions onto a empty canvas, while it stares back with its alabaster-eyes and silently screams to be not left empty forever. desperation, infuriation, infatuation; and as she falls into an indistinguishable darkness (or is it merely the absence of light?) she is overcome with an overwhelming sense of longingcome closer.


Untitled.Cero. And baby you were never good at making promises or keeping secrets, but this means more than pretty words ever did. And you can stop talking and keep walking, but nothing's going to stop me once I've got the key. You've got my heart in your hands, blow it up and let it go, or baby, we can take it slow, see if we can learn to play this crazy game called love. I've got my hand in yours and my feet on the ground so keep your arms open and your eyes closed, and maybe we can forget this mess, run away and hope for the best. You can hold me and smile, and I'll laugh a little while your eyes reflect the sunset and we can pretend we're soUntitled.


DrivewayWe write our names on brick walls and on the sides of bus stations so they might go somewhere and we wait for someone to remember us.Driveway
We turn on the radio to listen to this guy who was famous by the time he was fourteen My friend thinks hes sexy and closes her eyes in the back of my mothers car when she hears his voice But he makes me step out of myself like hes a lesson in how to be better and all I can do is listen. I try to leave fingerprints on my hands
He is singing about being left behind but you cant be abandoned if
--
Twilight Fan?
[link]
--
Brain tingles ftw
--
If you are not willing to stand behind our troops, please, feel free to stand in front of them.
~ShortStackStories
*dA-Michiganders
~100ThemeWriters
*Writers-Workshop
*Writers-Club
~OnceUponATimeClub
~American-Rebel-Club
--
when drinking cough syrup just ain't enough
if a picture says a thousand words; paint until your words run out
--
What if love isnt as simple as boy meets girl?
[link]
please view my gallery
--
DA's only club dedicated to the works of S.E. Hinton! :]
--
If the truth was bitter and the lies were sweet, which would you pick?
--
if we live our lives the right way,
then everything we do can become
a work of art.
Previous Page12Next Page