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7They say that seven is a lucky number, and I guess it is for me too. We’re in our seventh month and we started out relationship on the seventh month. And I’m so glad we’re together. You make my days brighter and happier. You know how to make me smile, make me blush, and get me to laugh even when I’m sad. I couldn’t ask for a better person to hope to spend the rest of my life with, and I can’t picture myself with anyone else.
I love the nicknames you give me and I love the way you get excited about things, it makes me happy, to see you happy. I love the way you smile and the way you laugh, even your sleepy voice when we’re saying good night.
I love you, Eli. Happy seven months, babe, and here’s to being one month closer to a year of happiness.
Ugly Duckling Chapter 1
Sixteen…the year that everything was supposed to change for a girl...yet, I knew that this would be the same as all the others. I did not look like a supermodel, nor was I a genius. No I, Gabrielle Livingston, was a normal, one of the many that had to work their way to get what they wanted. Wandering throughout the halls of the prep school that I had worked so hard to get into, I knew that I stood out, especially when I stood next to one of the gold spoon toting, ass kissing richies that ruled the courtyard with a jewel encrusted fist. I was not blonde, or well-manicured and I especially was not a size zero, don't get me wrong, I'm not five hundred pounds, no, but being any higher than a size four and you were considered a heifer. Myself, being a size ten, I fell into that category, despite being able to still fit into the fashionable clothes, the fact that I filled it out a little better and the clothes didn't hang off me meant I was called a pig and a fatass on a regular
Excerpt From Ugly Duckling Sixteen…the year that everything was supposed to change for a girl...yet, I knew that this would be the same as all the others. I did not look like a supermodel, nor was I a genius. No I, Gabrielle Livingston, was a normal, one of the many that had to work their way to get what they wanted. Wandering throughout the halls of the prep school that I had worked so hard to get into, I knew that I stood out, especially when I stood next to one of the gold spoon toting, ass kissing richies that ruled the courtyard with a jewel encrusted fist. I was not blonde, or well-manicured and I especially was not a size zero, don't get me wrong, I'm not five hundred pounds, no, but being any higher than a size four and you were considered a heifer. Myself, being a size ten, I fell into that category, despite being able to still fit into the fashionable clothes, the fact that I filled it out a little better and the clothes didn't hang off me meant I was called a pig and a fatass on a regular basis
Broken HeartbeatYou seem to break my heart beat into shorter syllables,
like every time I touch you,
It just gets
/\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ / \ /\ /\ /i r\
________/ \ / \ __/ \ / \ / \ ___/ \ /\ / \ m \ s \ / \ / \_______l i k e__I 'm__g a s p i n g__f o r__a i r_________
I wanted to write you a lovesong.i.
Summer rain has nothing
on the sound of your laugh,
little pinpricks of sunshine
lounging across the cobbled
streets of midnight,
cooled grey eyes, shining
tears of nightlights
glowing like stars in your cheeks;
in darkened archways,
hollow stone walls
reverberating through my skull --
back to earth, loving
taking root under the city floor,
breathing across cool hands
in warmer songs, notes
bundled under my sheets
thoughts that last all night
and drift between the rafters
of my chest
wanting at last;
pure, starry sky and
dawn rolls down the mountainside,
turrets and towers
crinkle-eyed smile batters
falling -- falling --
more delicate than down
softly into the clouds.
one life into another
the moon has sunk
into my soul; I am losing
but the bloodl
She Is PoetryShe speaks to me in sonnets
Sighing her similes
Angrily articulating her alliterations
and ranting her rhymes.
She mumbles her metaphors
Heaving heavily her haikus
Bickering her ballads
at my feeble free verse.
You really wanted a girl who wasn't me.I fell in
love with you or
not quite you,
because you said
you'd never love
sacrosanct perversionhe is
my paragon of feverish intemperance
my blue-flamed boy nova
the burning of my besotted wits-end and start
the reticence under the gape of endless stars
whose abdomen fell
prey to my scathing eyes and starving claws
whose mien asphyxiated
by my irrepressible thirst
past his past lovers and navel gait
how i pine
for the warmth of his gargantuan laughs
for the coolness of his gaze transfixed
on my lips
blue-fire fervor and inferno
dearest penned don
grant me my sip of the holy grail
i would become a polyglot existence
singing of her myrtle and doves
and my mirabile dictu love
on every known continent
ways I have failedscarling I believe
I knew our stars were faulted
The same way I knew that I couldn't stand them disarrayed
I wove you slowly
into my tendons
and I refuse any dimension that finds us ceasing
just pretend I am a man
and not a knot in your chest
I will pretend that I'm not gasping for breath
you are my barbed catalyst
that I refuse to release
I will proudly dress my wounds in the mirror
knowing that everything will be better than I was
there is no part of me undoctored
no words ungreened
and no fiber untorn
you were never just a prompt
but you were always more than my thin hands could manage
I always knew you would outgrow me
Twilight's Dream Falling,
Twas a dream
You in my sight,
Just your eyes,
Oh, the way
They strip me
Of my soul,
So that it be
My darling -
In the days
You caressed me
Falling for you,
Over you -
But twas just
miles to goi.
i am tired
of having nowhere to go after midnight,
when the skies are cloudiest,
and the streets are darkest.
there's a thirst in me
that desires a map for this twisted path of life;
it's too broken in places
to navigate alone.
goodbyes echo in my head as i step
off the train platform and onto the waiting car,
but i cannot concentrate, for fear
that i have boarded wrong.
so all i can ask
is for you to keep your arms open,
for it's the closest thing to home
that i have ever known.
you set my spine to knotting
with imperfect purl of wax.
clip collarbones to drain them
of their cabernet impacts.
your swishing wakes the levy
and grips teeth of the deceased.
churns salivating testaments
in infinite increase.
the twist of looms in chaos
and cartography dispersed.
fine lines in exit vectors
looping twice about the earth.
a curvature evolving
from unmeasured sect decree
that aggravates the dialect
of treasured lecturing.
a clash of fingerprinting with
a violet wild stare.
the genesis of ending
your litigated seraphim
bow fluid at the knee.
dissolve the body noted
by the crimson lettering.
oh lover suffer sweet with me
and lush make every reap.
we'll monument the dimming light
and lustre tourmaline
I LoveI love that we started out as strangers
I love that we were role play partners and friends first
I love that you allowed me and continue to allow me to open up to you when I feel necessary
I love that we can talk about our dreams for the future
And I love that while they aren't always the same in all aspects, they all end up at the same place
I love that you can make me laugh
I love that you can make me blush and my heart race
I love that you make me feel better after a bad day
I love everything about you
But most of all
I love you
The BeginningHe told them, of course. He told those idiots everything, the whole damn story, including the blunder he'd made, and its consequences. Looking back on it later, he realized he had probably been in shock the whole time. It made sense, anyone would have been.
Soph was about twenty years old, and he'd been that way for a couple of years already, ever since the Hoarde had started attacking humanity from the past. Every day that passed, they ate at another day in the past. It sickened him. Those creatures had absolutely no regard for proper time and causality protocols.
It didn't seem to affect anyone else that way, though.
The Hoarde was the result of a human creation, of course, like everything bad in the world, though no one else knew about them. Then again, no one else had undiluted access to the power of creation. Even he didn't know much about the Hoarde, only that they appeared through some tear in The Fabric of The World and started killing people off. They appeared at some point in
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