anna-lynnWhisper

Canadian
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The Forgotten Fruit.The peach was soft and fuzzy, bruise less and juicy, waiting to be tasted. / Yet no one would touch it. / Maybe it was because it was the last peach left in the ceramic fruit bowl.
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1.7k
The birthday cake of denialAnd it just sits there reminding you of new memories to make, futures to come, friends to forget. Denial is in the icing, dead dreams in the wicks of the tacky pastel candles. The blade of regret cuts through the thick layers of new broken promises. Sprinkles to soften the blow of reality, chocolate crumbs to help savor the empty moment. The birthday cake of denial cannot be denied. Nothing is final until the last overly sweetened piece that sits on your tongue, full of expectations is / *gone.*
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Shut upHe thought I needed him. / I laughed. / Why would I need someone who treats me like ****
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Deja vuMy déjà vu was loving you / And now I just forget
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A Putrid FairytaleThere is no fairytale in misery. Yet I find myself drowning in this unpolished desire to hold the hand of greed. I pulled out the knife too quickly, leaving it to heal improperly. Forever a mistake, forever a lost cause. My light seems broken. Every time I open my eyes, all I can see are shards of multi-coloured glass surrounding the happiness I cannot have. The nightmares have taken root and are a crippling comfort in which I cannot bear. I wipe away the mothering tears and hold back the putrid ***** Passion is my curse and sorrow is my blanket. I lust for the ugly and jagged pieces of hope, because it's all I have left to lean on.
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Tango of liesWe danced that exhausting tango. / That tango of lies. / Wrapped up in deceit, spinning in ecstasy.
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NakedYour face is a naked palette my dear, it has yet to be blotched with colours of wonder, love, hate and fear. You shower yourself in innocence and write your feelings on the walls. / You are too young to believe in reality, and far too naive to realize that dreams don't come true.
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StrawberriesRaw and uncut, to the bearest of bones. / I am an open novel and full of old woes. / I crack under pressure and wear my heart on my sleeve, I cringe with every soul that I too must grieve.
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The Sweetest TasteSlowly tasting every sweetened word that escapes your dewy mouth, I crawl into your arms and / dream of the impossible. / I remembered all at once that I had emotions.
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Knotted WoolThe icy cold stares seep through my pores until they can see my darkest secrets. They judge and they wallow in their supposed morality as I drown in my own peer pressure poison. So I crack a smile and feel it fade because I can't fake what I can't feel in front of those who don't care. I shoot the silver arrow into the crooked branch so I can remember that not everything we want has to be perfect. And that I can find the diamond among the soiled ******* if that's what I deeply desire. I've never wanted anything more than to just be let in the herd and melt into the shadows. But then again, I don't want to lose myself. So I stay on the outside of the porcelain shop and watch all the shallow customers ****** the useless crap with their greasy fingers as I paint my words in colours no one can recognize just to **** with the egos of the cowards that always seem to have something to say. I want to make them all speechless as I sheer the sheep of their knotted wool and show them for who they really are.
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