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gift - for CatThe first thing Lance wanted to do as soon as he got home from work was plop down on his bed and have a nice long nap. But Jackqueline wasn't going to let that happen. As soon as he walked through the door of his apartment, she was there in front of him, blue eyes big in her face and hands worrying themselves.
"Uhm . . . Lance . . . "
He blinked at her, unsure of how to respond. "Jackqueline . . . first things first. What are you doing in my apartment? Are you demented?"
"I came to say hello to Rex and drop off some lunch for him. He doesn't usually eat lunch and I wanted him to have a little something. So . . . we ate lunch together and stuff. I talked most of the time and he just sat there. I'm not sure what was going on in his head, but I don't think it was good. I tried to get him to talk to me about it, but he didn't really want to. I suppose that's okay and I should expect it "
"Get to the point." At this rate, he'd never find out what was going on and he had a bad feeling
60 - Rejection: TearsHe hadn't cried since the funeral. No, never mind the funeral, he hadn't cried since the day he'd gotten the phone call telling him his parents had been in a car crash. He'd raced home, been driven to the hospital by his aunt, and then been told both parents had suffered fatal injuries and had no chance of survival.
He'd refused to accept that. He'd begged, pleaded, shouted, and even screamed at the doctors to do something anything. But they couldn't. No one could.
The funeral hadn't made any difference. The impact still hadn't hit him. He felt like all he had to do was make a phone call and his dad would be there on the other end, telling him it had all been some sort of sick joke and everything was going to return to normal.
The day after the funeral he even tried calling his dad's cell phone, fingers trembling over the buttons as he pressed them, heart fluttering in his chest as he lifted the phone to his ear.
His aunt found him frozen like that with his hand pressing the pho
RainWhen all the colors run together
And rainbows trace their fingers
Down my window in drops of
Rainwater, I have to stop and listen.
Listen to the rain making little
Animal footsteps on the roof and
Windows, while the rainbow drops
Chase each other down the glass.
Angels and Shooting Stars - 4"Every life has a choice - to rise above, to fill the void. Every heart has a mission, and we are called to be human."
- "Human" by Jordin Sparks (singer and songwriter)
It was his cellphone ringing that brought Lance out of his thoughts. Three days had passed since the accident, but he hadn't been to visit Rex once due to the fact the boy was in a drug induced coma to ensure minimal brain swelling from his concussion. He'd petitioned one of Rex's nurses to call him if she was able once they brought Rex out of the coma.
Therefore, he answered his phone immediately without even glancing at the screen to see who was calling. It had to be the nurse since people rarely called him.
"Is this Lance Kilkenny?"
"Yes." A knot of worry was forming in his throat, but he forced it down with a swallow.
"We've called the people who looked after Rex at the therapy center, but we were told to call you as well. Rex was slowly brought out of his drug-induced coma, but
b-day gift - for KatiaThe fire crackled and the wood within the hot flames popped loudly, sending sparks toward the starlit sky.
Blade watched them with his head tipped back, a small smile on his face. He looked to be dreaming to himself those blue eyes of his were farther away than the stars. A gentle breeze whispered through the trees and spun the sparks from the fire around and around, sending them into a frenzied dance. The breeze ruffled Blade's pale blonde, almost white, hair and made him close his eyes for a moment before opening them again.
Orethan watched his brother in silence, eyes dark with the intensity of his gaze. He often wondered what drew his brother away like that. What about those sparks entranced him so much that his full attention was on them?
A slight frown crinkled his brow and he reached up to rub it away with his fingers. Sighing softly, he let his eyes wander away from Blade and up to the sparks that seemed to fascinate the boy so much.
After about a minute of wa
Clytie and ApolloShe resides on the river bank,
Never leaving as she waits
For the sunrise, whose rays
She drinks with eyes full of love.
She watches Apollo's chariot
As he traverses the bright blue sky
Toward the western horizon,
Fair skin shining in the sunbeams.
Her heart sinks with the sun.
Eyes watching as the last of the
Light vanishes with the shimmering
Golden head of the sun god.
Apollo never once bends to
Acknowledge small Clytie; but
He is not aware of her passionate
Love for him and his brilliance.
Night after night she waits,
Anxious to see Apollo's chariot
Speeding up over the horizon,
Heading on the same sky-path.
Her love for him never dwindles,
And the gods are inclined to take
Pity on the girl and turn her into
A flower, reflecting Apollo's face.
The sunflower resides on the river bank,
Never leaving as it patiently waits
For the sunrise, whose rays warm its face,
Which its petals soak, trembling with love.
gift - for JennaI found myself chasing stars again last night.
Every time I came upon one I couldn't resist
I traced its outline with my fingertips,
Painting the air afterward with stardust.
It's easier to believe in fairies and magic
Surrounded by the sparkling stars and drifting clouds.
gift - for KatiaAs Lance entered his apartment, he was greeting by an intense silence. Of course, it wasn't usually loud when he got home every night, but he was used to hearing Rex doing something around the place: scrounging around in the kitchen, drawing with his pencils scratching and squeaking across his sketch paper, doing his homework with music playing in the background, or . . . pretty much anything that didn't require such a dead silence.
A frown wrinkled his face as he hung up his jacket and pulled off his shoes. "Rex?"
A knot of worry began to form in the pit of his stomach. Had Rex gone out of the apartment without his knowledge? Not that it would be wrong of him if he had, it just wasn't something he usually did. Taking a breath in hopes it would calm the speeding up of his heart, he let his gaze wander down to where he'd placed his own shoes. Rex's were in their usual spot, so he obviously hadn't gone for a walk or anything.
His frown turned into one of confusion as he headed
gift - for ZepheliaThe soft flakes of snow drifted down to rest on Shym's upturned face and he let out a faint sigh, his breath coming out in a puff of warm air against the cold. The moon set the snow to glittering in a seemingly endless blanket of immaculate white. His eyes flickered shut and he felt snowflakes accumulating on his eyelashes.
A moment later, all his breath was forced from his lungs as something cannoned into his stomach. He instantly knew what that "something" was and his eyes snapped open to focus on Uketim. Thankfully, his stomach had been slightly padded by his winter clothes.
He gasped, desperately trying to get his breath back as he mustered up a feeble glare. It wasn't very effective with him lying on the ground in a deep drift of snow and with his triplet sitting comfortably on his chest, arms folded, mouth curled up in a smirk.
Finally, he began to breathe normally, and he also registered the snow melting down his neck. He sniffed, nose running from the cold. "Uketim, get off."
She's a WriterShe sits at her desk
Her headphones in,
The world shut out.
She bleeds for others
As words fly from
Her mind to her fingertips.
She stares at the screen,
At every little comment,
The good and the painful.
She forms her emotions
Into books and poems
To throw away the hurt.
She's a writer,
And her best weapons
Are her mind and her pen.
BetrayedI won't swallow your lies anymore
I can't stand your presence
You used to be my friend
But you're nothing to me now
And soon you'll be
Another bad memory
I won't be able to forget
Do you know what it feels like...To be lonely?
To be bullied?
To be called ugly?
To be unattractive?
To be compared to other women?
To be considered unnormal?
To be unloved even though you give love to others?
To face issues that you don't in reality know how to fix?
To think that your goal you're reaching for, is unattainable?
To feel like the cause of many people's problems?
To be held up on a high pedistal that you can't get down off of?
To realize that people don't like you based on your personailty?
To at no avail, keep up your happy and upbeatness for others?
To look at happy couples and wish that you had someone to be happy with?
To stop fighting for anything anymore?
flower petalsi know that when we touch
that my energy is yours
that we are like flowers
because at our roots
we need water and love,
we reach tall as we can
to get to the sun
and stretch our leaves
to welcome it all;
and when we touch
i know that our skin isn’t skin
too soft for this world
when it grows rough with gravel
so i invite you back to our bed,
soft with the earth
where we can lie gently
and sleep until it is time
You AgainOh, it's you again. I must admit,
The crooning has
The lies have been
And mine are like swords
It's just you and me
In this sick game
I can tell
You're pulling me in,
And I don't have
To pull you down
Sometimes, I've had
And all I see is
Then it became
I don't know
How to escape
Dark to see.
And all I can
Wonder at every
Turn I make
When can it be
SightStars in the night sky
I see beyond that and through
Greatness into darkness, I can fly
Here above the earth I can see the truth
There is an angel that will love me until I die
An artist (revised)
Staring blankly at a white sheet of paper
Can truly be an artist’s worst nightmare
An artist’s duty as its shaper
Their thoughts up in the clouds somewhere
Looking for bits of inspiration
Their eyes searching the skies
Nothing can break their concentration
Nothing can blow out the passion in their eyes
Being an artist does not always mean you are skilled
You do not need to be Picasso or Bach
It means you want to see your dream fulfilled
And that you will never give in to an art block
jackal grinMy orange peel
lips split: the beams
a deck of cards
nana’s worn porch,
and fingers weaving
through grass blades
when the light is
soft and warm.
(have you f
I Don't Come with the Edgesi.
It cries the way dragonflies leave ripples
in the rain. On days I swallow
whirlpools for breakfast and
drown with libraries for fun,
I can almost allow myself to forget
And it doesn’t want to make
me kneel on my shoulders
or pluck the weeds
from my scars;
I can see it try so hard
to be my friend.
But if I could choose
polka dots over tail lights
and sun screen over
I wouldn’t think thrice
or even once
not to blow the candles
on my grave.
That’s why I keep
the colons of analog clocks
under my tongue;
so I could keep the
figures eight of cliché’s
as keepsakes for old age.
I like to think infinities
have loopholes; tree rings
that dissolve into each other
with exhales for a caress.
And just when the tones
of lyrics would enter the
eutony of names, only then
would I drift into love.
When I wouldn’t be holding
my blood in my temples-
when all I am is a thought.
The running footsteps
we’ve come to cla
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More