daniela-nordquistWhisper

American
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Warmth"*You're cold.*" / He said as he took her hands and he couldn't be more right and wrong at the same time. Her gaze simply fell to her feet as she let the silence envelop her. She felt cold, her soul quivering somewhere in the corner of her heart, obscuring its rhythmic beat and creating a swell of off tempo chaos in her veins. Her memory of his whispers were akin to the sudden rush of wind that hit her skin, wet with the storm of tears and caused chills to cascade their way across her body. / But he was wrong, it wasn't she who was cold, it was him who was stealing everything that made her warm. Coaxing her with his silver tongue, murmuring the words he knows she wants to hear, testing his skill and bringing her to the edge of the flimsy fortress she calls defense, to where she's just barely out of his reach, a paper thin wall separating his will from hers, and he nearly giggles in delight when he causes her to tear it down herself, like a spider tearing down its own web.
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A Woman Like WaterI knew she was like water, she'd probably wish to be compared to a sea but she was more like a lake. Still, calm, never moving without an outside force. / But still I loved her. Her calming waters soothed my wounds and her reflective surface forced me to see myself the way I am. But still she never moved. I could ripple her surface, make her waters splash upon new sides of her shores, but in doing so I watched in somber wonder as she washed the people in her shallows up upon her banks, sore and bruised down to their hearts, and neither would reach for the other, trapped in the curse of stillness. / She assured me she loved me, she assured me I'd always stay in the deepest depth of her heart. And yet slowly, what was once a depth so warm and vast, I found my toes grazing the bottom, and every time I did I tried to swim back, back to where the water was endless, bottomless, yet never could I stay there long. Other people were causing wakes, and fighting against them was becoming difficult, for I am not the strongest swimmer.
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Moonshine and FirefliesShe would collect fireflies in mason jars that smelled of moonshine and take them to her room. She’d tape black construction paper in layers on her windows and pull down the shades to watch them glow and fade in an intricate rhythm of heart beats, of long forgotten conversation, of whispers and of secrets, dancing and pulsing together in an ancient SOS. And I’d watch as green eyes became molten emeralds in a warm yellow glow, and tell her if she didn't set them free, they’d slowly stop shining; one by one, the pulsing would slow, tiny legs would quiver and falter, before falling lifeless to the bottom. And she’d look at me, her honey hair in ringlets from the summer’s humidity, and she’d trace a painted fingernail down the edge of the glowing glass and merely whisper, “I know, but its better this way. They should have someone watching their beauty carefully to every detail, right until the end.” / We’d sit outside on rainy days under the cover of my porch, and set me in her lap as she braided my hair and asked me if I believed in angels. She’d rest her chin on my shoulder and stare off in wonder, while I listened to the tinkling rain drops fall upon our teacups from the day before. She’d start murmuring how silly they are, looking down on us from above, gossiping like old women about the choices we make as their pure white feathers yellow with age, like dusty wedding dresses locked in old heavy chests in the attic. “Nothing is beautiful forever, and they’re ridiculous to look down on us, look,” she whispered against the skin of my neck “even they have to walk upon the ground when it rains.” / I sat in front of the redwood vanity, playing with the limited make up supplies I possessed, painting my lips with pink lip gloss as she painted my fingernails with the same color she used, and she asked me if I’d ever thought of kissing boys. Her giggles floated through the air like wind chimes, soft and sparkling with the smallest breeze when my cheeks began to burn and fluster. And those perfect peach wedges curled around ivory teeth and eventually found their place, full and soft against my forehead, and as those glittering irises met my own she said very softly, “Be careful when kissing boys, girls are soft and easily bruise, and boys like to play rough.” I asked her what she meant and she merely smiled and told me that one day she’d tell me, but for now she wanted me to lay in the sunlight with her and find the fairies in the dust motes.
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Confessions of a GoddessI am a ******* goddess, and no one can convince me otherwise / I am beyond his comprehension, so to this day i will confuse his thoughts / I will rule his world, his heart, his mind, his soul
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Papaver Somniferum ***** Poppy)My darling mother use to make / The most savory muffins you'd ever find. / No texture was ever quite as soft,
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SeasickYou swear this water's still, and it's quiet, inky blackness is all around us, / Lacing itself with the thick cotton fog that makes my hair stick wetly to my skin and / You *must* be lying because my world is swaying
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943
You Wicked Little Thing“Why are you so evil?” / The words hung in the air, a condemning bell tone across the dark room. / Shock. It’s the only way to describe how the limbs seize up and remain frozen in their place, how all of a sudden the blood feels colder as it circulates through the veins, carrying the virus phrase along with its stream.
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926
A Symphony Stained RedShe sings from her wrist / And watches in marvel as the lyrics flow from her / Pulsing to her own personal beat
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UntitledI. / His hands on my skin are warm and his touch is feather light / and he moves and I inhale his voice rumbles low murmurs in my ear
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HungerI had always wished that someone would devour me slowly / With my heart pulsing upon fine china / Sliced into daintily with only the finest silverware
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