I'm moving to notyetgone on deviantart.
I guess that'd be notyetgone.deviantart.com
but I'm also on tumblr: minutesintohours.tumblr.com
so... check it out?
'Perfect'Perfect: (adjective) entirely without flaws, defects or shortcomings; to make flawless or faultless.'Perfect' by WinterofFire
The meaning of the word is subjective, we all have our own ideas of perfection. In today’s media, perfection is flawless skin, hair without a strand out of place, thinner than a ‘normal’ person. That’s what we strived for.
It was midsummer, maybe in July, and we had been bored, sitting in Her room talking about the upcoming school year and what we would do with it. Somehow, it made sense at the time for the two of us to try and be those movie teenagers who were ‘cool’ and ‘pretty.’ By the time I went home, we had already come up with a list of things for us to do to ‘improve’ ourselves. Our lists were different, but we both had one thing in common: to ‘lose weight.’
At that time, I was about 105 pounds, and I was pretty healthy, I wasn’t morbidly obese and I could do the mile run. However
Stubborn HeartI don’t know why I refuse to get over him. Maybe it’s the sense that he’s the one that got away, maybe it’s because I still have feelings. Anyway, it’s been three years, and I just realised there’s something wrong about this. I have friends who hate him, the others don’t care. Maybe it’s my renowned stubbornness. Maybe I’m being stubborn about him the same way I was stubborn with him all those months ago. Maybe I’m just stupid, and foolish for holding on to something that has no hope, a plane that would never fly, a business that would never take off.Stubborn Heart by WinterofFire
Maybe it’s because I’ve never been happy, unless he was somehow involved. Even they saw it, the teachers, directors, and other students, they saw how the light in me, usually so dim, lit up when he was involved.
Maybe it’s because he was the only one who got me, who took all the weirdness, and drama and insomnia and made it okay. Maybe it was because he understo
Starring as the wallsYou know how it is to hear people talk about you as if you weren’t there?Starring as the walls by WinterofFire
Your mother complaining about you to your friend’s mother, all the while saying that she’d rather have your friend as a daughter. Your mother complaining to your father about your lack of family affection. Your mother complaining to your far-too-young brother, and saying that he’s better.
And it’s stupid, don’t you think, that they never consider that you are not affectionate with them for a reason? That it’s because of them saying that you were never wanted, and never would be good enough?
That’s the thing, after you learn that even your family doesn’t want you, part of you just dies. And you get the sense that you’d never be wanted.
So you act like you don’t care, treat everyone cruelly because it’s all you know. Pushing people out so they can’t hurt you, and they can’t be hurt by you. You let them know you’re screwed up,
To the boy who cried bitchi.To the boy who cried bitch by grew-up-a-screw-up
That’s what you called me
The second time we spoke
You said I glittered
But the gold had long since then
Left the contours
Of my jaws
that I don’t know how to
I am a diffracted spectrum
That knows no bounds
you said I reminded you
of your abusive uncle
and you tried to seek solace and safety
in a girl who belonged to no one
I will not say sorry
for being unable
to your ideals
you called me a bitch
since i've known you
6 of which
I know that I am far too static
I lack tact and often
Leave a bitter taste in your mouth
And in all honesty
Apathetic to your whining
I pointed it out to you when we first met
Find another shoulder
To cry on
on seeking solace in strangersAnd she felt like homeon seeking solace in strangers by grew-up-a-screw-up
her arms gave
way to the sand
castle of her
i loved her for it
she was a dragon
of a girl
beneath her eyes
from the corners
of her lips
like a faulty tap
to me she was beautiful
like those obscure
lapses in time
at 3.25 AM
with her legs
stretched across the
smoking my cigarettes
as she let her words
into the quiet
s p a c e s
she still sparkled
with this rebellious
twinkle in her eyes
and those eyes
they felt like home
all the doors
I miss you, and i can't say i'm sorryI miss you by DearPoetry
because these slender, spider fingers
ache to trace the curved letters of your name tag,
emily. i notice you write everything in caps.
( have i ever told you
how much i enjoy saying your name, -EMILY. )
you are screaming to the world, quietly.
but we, we are mid-morning whispers
over stale, back room coffee,
silent eyes, and window pane love.
these hearts were runaways once;
hitchhikers on a trail to nowhere.
you shared pieces of yourself with me then,
emily, between beats and bathroom stalls.
you were a gargoyle under the heat
of july summer. evenings were our playground;
rose garden beasts lingering in feverish night.