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Literature Text
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- she's a wild version of ten, flaming hair drawing attention to the freckles on her nose and the ice in her eyes. sunstrokes and snowflakes, she calls them. imperfection and heaven trapped in her face. she struts like models down the runway of life, her smile created from playdough and ruby-red tint...but it never touches her dimples. instead, she kicks the can of sweet innocence down an alley of demons and worries the world won't understand. she's cast out of concrete and painted pastel, but the colors don't match the words in her heart. and when she opens her mind, reality seems like a game. she shoots rockpaperscissors with shadows and she always wins, but when she opens her mind, they fight back with bitter-stained teeth. when she opens her mind, her strength disappears...and she cowers.
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- she's a sprightly fourteen, lips pouted into premature kisses and heart already scarred by the reckless failings of love. she sticks a's in her pockets and holds her chin high, but once school is out, she's just another pretender in a skirt much-too-short. she wears shells on her wrist and holds her tongue when they sing, the ocean her favorite legend of death. suicide. and she imagines a world where families don't break and mascara knows better than to give her away, but she never dreams of a rainbow. she wears her bangs long to cover her eyes, but when she sleeps, she tucks it away. the moonlight illuminates her freckles like fireflies, and when she sleeps, she forgets not to bother. when she sleeps, she forgets she can't dream.
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- she's a daydream eighteen, eyes glazed with the vodka she sips from her glass in hopes it will let loose the pain. her seashells broke years ago, replaced by bangles and cuffs, but the jewelry on her wrists doesn't matter. she locks a key to her neck and holds it close when night falls; if asked, she'll tell you it's nothing. just an escape from her rambling hopes. she sways her hips like she's in the ballet and ignores all the whispers around her. and she claims it doesn't sting when he catches her gaze, but the passion of his laugh is melting her soul. and when he touches her hand, her freckles almost disappear, remorse at her life welling into her cheeks. he's brimstone to her hell and his lock fits her key. and for once, she doesn't remind herself to let go. he's a different sort of dream...and she takes the plunge.
Suggested Collections
Part Two?
The first (supermanboxers and lovedreams) can be found heeeeeeeeere:
[link]
I think there might still be more to come of these. I sort of like them. A little.
November 2009
The first (supermanboxers and lovedreams) can be found heeeeeeeeere:
[link]
I think there might still be more to come of these. I sort of like them. A little.
November 2009
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Comments12
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and mascara knows better than to give her away
Once again, lovely work.
Once again, lovely work.