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AngelsAfternoon makes me sad.
It's something about
The color of the sunlight
And the length of shadow.
this day will never come again.
So hold onto it.
She wears a ring
Around her left ring finger
She isn't so alone.
She knows that there's still
Only canned soup
And her pet goldfish
To come home to.
Lonely girl at school
Feeling cold and friendless.
She hears the words spat at her
In the metal-lined hallways,
Bitch. Slut. Whore. Stupid. Fat. Ugly.
They sting her eyes and heart
(Sticks and stones may break my bones
But words will always hurt me)
There's a boy hiding in his room.
And he hears them screaming.
He tries to pretend he doesn't,
But ugly words seep through his headphones.
Stop it! Stop fighting!
He's screaming back at them.
But they don't hear him.
And even if they did,
They wouldn't be listening.
Pile of rags outside the Dunkin' Donuts
There's a cane leaning next to him
And in his hand is a paper cup.
He peers anxiously
Marry MeWhen I say "Marry me," here is what I mean:
I will have and hold you, love and cherish you, for better and for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness or in health, 'til death do us part.
Let me take care of you.
Let me buy you things that you want and make you feel special.
I want you to burn my toast and spill my orange juice.
I know you as a thunderstorm, as a rainbow, as the city, as a dancer, as a friend, as a lover, as a fighter, as a writer, as a woman.
You're always saying that there's six billion people in the world. I want you to always remember that it may be true, but there's still only one you.
Be aware that I will hide your lipstick and eyeliner because I know that you are beautiful without it.
I understand the difference between what you want and what you need. Know that I will give you both.
Deny me nothing and I will give you everything in return.
I don't love you just for your face or your body; I love you for you
Should Have She walks into the school cafeteria. It smells like overly processed food and it is loud in the way that only high school cafeterias can be; everyone's chatter blended together in an indistinguishable lump of noise. She slows to let a group of other girls race in front of her to the vending machine. She turns her head and sees a boy.
This boy is sitting alone. The first thing she notices is that he has acne - severe, angry pustules clustered and mottled like bumpy red rashes all over his face and neck. She is a little startled and tries not to stare. He is despondently eating a sandwich, a crumpled brown paper bag on the table in front of him. He has wire-rimmed glasses and rumpled brown hair and he does not look up. She feels the urge to walk over and sit down with him. Try to be friendly and cheerful. Try to erase all the blemishes practically obscuring his features. Try to make him laugh, to lift his shoulders, to make him forget all th
Like a RainbowShe is yellow in the mornings. A pale yellow with gentle tinges of baby blue. She rises with the sun, slowly, gently. Unrushed and sweet. She blinks sleep from her sunrise eyes and stumbles into the bathroom for her toothbrush.
She is orange on Saturdays. Dancing or running around with her friends, a bright halo of vivid tangerine swirling from her soul. Her smile is like flip-flops and Popsicles and she smells of summer.
She is purple at night. When the sunset fades to dark and the only things you can hear are the occasional car whispering on the highway, it happens. Deep purple infuses her soul and she becomes one with the night sky.
She is ice blue in the winter. The snow and wind and frost eat at her and she feels asleep. It is all so barren and full of cold concrete. Winter seems to last forever with no respite. She wants to wake up.
She is red in the hospital. Burning with fever and fight, she rails against the above 102 degree temperature flaming her body. She swears at the dise
Blue Eyes in FlamesWhen the prince sees the flower bloom from the palm of her hand, he orders her arrest.
She is only seven years old.
He takes the flower from her and keeps it, even though he knows he shouldn't. He puts it a vase, or, rather, his servant does that for him. The flower doesn't ever die, even years later.
It's dawn of a December morning, and he's cold. But still, he stands next to his father dutifully and looks at the little girl with blue eyes that are now black from seven nights sleeping on a cold, dungeon floor behind bars. They cut off her dark brown hair during that time. She's tied to the pyre, and there are seven guards around her, holding sharper swords than normal, not that she could get away. There's one man dressed in black holding an unlit torch, with a mask over his face to prevent his death. His father raises his arm, and the torch is lit.
She locks her gaze to his, and he blinks at her. It's like she expects him to prevent it. He couldn't, though, he can't. She scares him, w
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More