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ellianalyn
19/F/Connecticut An aspiring poet.
complete absence of sound  Sometimes silence can be the most empowering kind of love, and not a silence you wish to end, but instead, a silence you hope lasts, lasting long enough to enjoy all the best parts of him --  the missed heart beats when you rest your head upon his chest and he pulls you close, or maybe the quiet giggle that escapes his lips when you press yours to the outer corner of his smile, along his jawline, to his cheek and down to his neck, only stopping to let your eyes meet his before closing the space  between you.  A silence that’s familiar,  comfortable, as you listen to the rain outside his window  and feel the cool breeze making a home within his walls.  However, the only thing creating shivers across your skin, being his touch, and him kissing a trail down your body, often a finger tip moving ever so slightly up and down the length of your arm.  Sometimes silence is often the most beautiful way of expression, as you sit between his legs  and feel the way his hands explore the depths of your back, and as he pulls your shirt higher to expose more of your skin, you find yourself craving his lips on your body  and as if reading your mind -- he holds you really tight, brushes aside your hair and places his lips to your neck. And even in the silence, you allow for a small gasp to escape the lips you held between your teeth.  He’ll move himself to face you,  wrap his arms around the small of your back  and place his lips to yours, kissing you, like it was the first time -- all over again.  And sometimes even silence needs to be broken, to allow for I love you.
0
Apr 10, 2020
Apr 10, 2020 at 9:54 PM UTC
silence (n).
complete absence of sound  Sometimes silence can be the most empowering kind of love, and not a silence you wish to end, but instead, a silence you hope lasts, lasting long enough to enjoy all the best parts of him --  the missed heart beats when you rest your head upon his chest and he pulls you close, or maybe the quiet giggle that escapes his lips when you press yours to the outer corner of his smile, along his jawline, to his cheek and down to his neck, only stopping to let your eyes meet his before closing the space  between you.  A silence that’s familiar,  comfortable, as you listen to the rain outside his window  and feel the cool breeze making a home within his walls.  However, the only thing creating shivers across your skin, being his touch, and him kissing a trail down your body, often a finger tip moving ever so slightly up and down the length of your arm.  Sometimes silence is often the most beautiful way of expression, as you sit between his legs  and feel the way his hands explore the depths of your back, and as he pulls your shirt higher to expose more of your skin, you find yourself craving his lips on your body  and as if reading your mind -- he holds you really tight, brushes aside your hair and places his lips to your neck. And even in the silence, you allow for a small gasp to escape the lips you held between your teeth.  He’ll move himself to face you,  wrap his arms around the small of your back  and place his lips to yours, kissing you, like it was the first time -- all over again.  And sometimes even silence needs to be broken, to allow for I love you.
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40
(n.) things better left unsaid; matters to be passed over in silence Often, the thought of him will cloud her head, the what if’s and often enough, the thought of maybe she wasn’t good enough will take it’s turn, tugging on her brain. She could recall the exact moment she caught herself falling for him, a thought that never seemed scary to her before, but in the moment, she was the most terrified that she’d ever been. You see, love was never a thing that she saw for herself especially when it came to him. Romance was the last thing on her mind when he was around. She could remember all the rose golds and hearts around Valentine’s Day, her favorite heart shaped candies that boys would give out, a simple “be mine” that changed a girl’s life. A flavor that wasn’t ever nice to eat, but somehow, the fact that is was given by a boy made all the difference of how chalky it really tasted. So when he walked in with his deep brown hair, she imagined herself swimming in the pools of chocolate that occupied his manipulative eye sockets. Eyes that had stared into her soul a million times before, but for some reason, this time felt different and she couldn’t quite tell why, but it had to do with the fact she had seen what those eyes really look like, when you’re alone in the dark and there’s no one around, left to impress. She felt shivers, and she knew that with every bat of an eyelash, he was slowly throwing aside her shirt once more, and leaving her vulnerable once again. A manipulation that she’s sure other girls have witnessed, because she knows she wasn’t the first, and she certainly wouldn’t be the last to rest her head upon his pillow, and moan out in pleasure. The walls seemed to cave in around them and she could feel her body go lifeless, trying to get deeper and feel every possible warmth from the boy who swore he loved her. And she said she loved him too, even with knowing the true risks of getting involved with him, but one thing she never thought she’d witness from him, heartbreak. Because after all, most things are better when you keep them to yourself, especially telling a boy you love him too, when he never said “I love you.”
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Sep 12, 2019
Sep 12, 2019 at 2:57 PM UTC
Tacenda
(n.) things better left unsaid; matters to be passed over in silence Often, the thought of him will cloud her head, the what if’s and often enough, the thought of maybe she wasn’t good enough will take it’s turn, tugging on her brain. She could recall the exact moment she caught herself falling for him, a thought that never seemed scary to her before, but in the moment, she was the most terrified that she’d ever been. You see, love was never a thing that she saw for herself especially when it came to him. Romance was the last thing on her mind when he was around. She could remember all the rose golds and hearts around Valentine’s Day, her favorite heart shaped candies that boys would give out, a simple “be mine” that changed a girl’s life. A flavor that wasn’t ever nice to eat, but somehow, the fact that is was given by a boy made all the difference of how chalky it really tasted. So when he walked in with his deep brown hair, she imagined herself swimming in the pools of chocolate that occupied his manipulative eye sockets. Eyes that had stared into her soul a million times before, but for some reason, this time felt different and she couldn’t quite tell why, but it had to do with the fact she had seen what those eyes really look like, when you’re alone in the dark and there’s no one around, left to impress. She felt shivers, and she knew that with every bat of an eyelash, he was slowly throwing aside her shirt once more, and leaving her vulnerable once again. A manipulation that she’s sure other girls have witnessed, because she knows she wasn’t the first, and she certainly wouldn’t be the last to rest her head upon his pillow, and moan out in pleasure. The walls seemed to cave in around them and she could feel her body go lifeless, trying to get deeper and feel every possible warmth from the boy who swore he loved her. And she said she loved him too, even with knowing the true risks of getting involved with him, but one thing she never thought she’d witness from him, heartbreak. Because after all, most things are better when you keep them to yourself, especially telling a boy you love him too, when he never said “I love you.”
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66
Her hands trembled as she reached for what lie in front of her, a sight she hadn’t grown fond of. A face, nearly scarred from the time it laid in the hands of another. Poorly treated once before, unfortunately all to familiar with the rough touch of a lover. One who is supposed to guard and protect you, is soon the one to turn and beat you to the ground. A fear she had kept hidden inside, not wanting anyone to know the truth behind her brown eyes. Glazed over and protected by a thick black line, to make her feel pretty. Even though with one swift move, he made her feel like the ugliest person to breathe in the oxygen that he share. And soon she knew, that in her hands lie a mirror and the face she seeks, was her very own; staring back at her.
0
Aug 21, 2019
Aug 21, 2019 at 9:35 PM UTC
Inside. Part 1
Glazed over eyes, ice on an old winter road. She waited for bittersweet wind to pierce through her skin like the icicles hanging from the porch where she lay.
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Aug 16, 2019
Aug 16, 2019 at 11:50 PM UTC
Pierced by winter's touch
Skinny Love (n.) when two people love each other, but are too shy to admit it, yet they show it anyway Your eyes trail down the endless miles of my scarred pale canvas. Untouched for quite some time, unwanted - by all that came in contact. Yet, your hands wander and explore all the possible depths. A shaky hand, tracing patterns up my spine, lingering longer on the ink claiming a home within my shoulder blade. A longing gaze meets mine, and with every breath taken, goosebumps replace my smooth skin. And I swear I’ve felt this way before. But something about this is different, new, for both of us.
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Jul 22, 2019
Jul 22, 2019 at 11:44 AM UTC
Skinny Love
So I’ll take one more flight just before you grab hold of the angel in my heart, and rip me right back down to hell with you.
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Jun 21, 2019
Jun 21, 2019 at 10:47 PM UTC
an angel's wings
I can’t bring myself to tell you how I really feel, like a friend instead of your lover. A friend that benefits you when in need, feeling pleasures you can’t feel on your own -- because it’s never the same as the touch of the one you fancy. Making me think you’re interested, only to ditch me when I really need you. Pulling on the strings that keep my heart bound -- a heart that I would’ve killed to let you have. But I got too close, and now you don’t want it anymore. But instead of telling me the truth, you’ll string me along, let things go unsaid, and watch as I slowly fall apart in front of you. Then, and only then, will you let me hurt, throw me into the ground and laugh as cuts and scrapes are made because it’s not your fault, and it never is your fault, that I fell for the same boy who broke me -- time and time again. Without any signs of disgust, I’ll believe that you can’t live without me, that you’ll never be the same, that you’re hurting too, maybe not as much as me or maybe not at all. You’ll tell me that it wasn’t my fault that you lost interest, that things just happen for a reason, that we weren’t meant for second chances, or thirds. I never wanted to hate you -- feel a raging fire inside of me, whenever I see you. With nothing left to say to you, I’ll hold my head up high and keep my gaze away from you. I’ll let you push me away. Everyone told me I could do better, that you didn’t deserve my time, but I never believed them, in hope that something good would come from this but reliving the past is never something to do.
0
Jun 21, 2019
Jun 21, 2019 at 10:39 PM UTC
two's a crowd
I can’t bring myself to tell you how I really feel, like a friend instead of your lover. A friend that benefits you when in need, feeling pleasures you can’t feel on your own -- because it’s never the same as the touch of the one you fancy. Making me think you’re interested, only to ditch me when I really need you. Pulling on the strings that keep my heart bound -- a heart that I would’ve killed to let you have. But I got too close, and now you don’t want it anymore. But instead of telling me the truth, you’ll string me along, let things go unsaid, and watch as I slowly fall apart in front of you. Then, and only then, will you let me hurt, throw me into the ground and laugh as cuts and scrapes are made because it’s not your fault, and it never is your fault, that I fell for the same boy who broke me -- time and time again. Without any signs of disgust, I’ll believe that you can’t live without me, that you’ll never be the same, that you’re hurting too, maybe not as much as me or maybe not at all. You’ll tell me that it wasn’t my fault that you lost interest, that things just happen for a reason, that we weren’t meant for second chances, or thirds. I never wanted to hate you -- feel a raging fire inside of me, whenever I see you. With nothing left to say to you, I’ll hold my head up high and keep my gaze away from you. I’ll let you push me away. Everyone told me I could do better, that you didn’t deserve my time, but I never believed them, in hope that something good would come from this but reliving the past is never something to do.
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48
Before you, my heart didn’t know any emotions except how to feel sad… sorry for myself. I’d look in a mirror and instantly regret ever getting out of bed. My own worst enemy was the brain inside my skull. And eight times a day, I’d talk myself out of performing the acts that my head told me to do. I didn’t want to live, and I have no shame in admitting that. I’d sit and try to rack my brain of the numerous possibilities that someone would actually care if I went missing. I’d count the scars on my skin that overstayed their welcome, pick out everything wrong with myself, every single flaw that I came across. I used to play with fire. I’d steal my moms old lighter, and ignite a flame… over and over again, until the idea of the flame accidentally meeting my thumb, didn’t scare me anymore. Until I felt invincible. After you came along, everything changed. Since the day you came back into my life, my heart knows every emotion possible, annoyance seems to be its favorite. Or sometimes it chooses not to feel at all. Getting out of bed isn’t at hard as it used to be, if anything it’s harder, especially after we’ve had a bad night and by we, I mean you because you decided to go and ditch me once again, left me sitting around and waiting for my knight in shining armour to arrive, but he never did, and he never does. The sight of you makes me want to crawl inside my skin and wait out the storm, I know is about to hit. The funny thing is, even though I’m expecting it and I know every single ******* time it’s going to come, you still ******* hurt me. Over and over again, and I don’t seem to learn but maybe it’s not even worth it. Since that day, feeling invincible in front of the flames, I’ve never had someone make me feel so vulnerable, before I met you.
0
Jun 21, 2019
Jun 21, 2019 at 10:38 PM UTC
invincible
Before you, my heart didn’t know any emotions except how to feel sad… sorry for myself. I’d look in a mirror and instantly regret ever getting out of bed. My own worst enemy was the brain inside my skull. And eight times a day, I’d talk myself out of performing the acts that my head told me to do. I didn’t want to live, and I have no shame in admitting that. I’d sit and try to rack my brain of the numerous possibilities that someone would actually care if I went missing. I’d count the scars on my skin that overstayed their welcome, pick out everything wrong with myself, every single flaw that I came across. I used to play with fire. I’d steal my moms old lighter, and ignite a flame… over and over again, until the idea of the flame accidentally meeting my thumb, didn’t scare me anymore. Until I felt invincible. After you came along, everything changed. Since the day you came back into my life, my heart knows every emotion possible, annoyance seems to be its favorite. Or sometimes it chooses not to feel at all. Getting out of bed isn’t at hard as it used to be, if anything it’s harder, especially after we’ve had a bad night and by we, I mean you because you decided to go and ditch me once again, left me sitting around and waiting for my knight in shining armour to arrive, but he never did, and he never does. The sight of you makes me want to crawl inside my skin and wait out the storm, I know is about to hit. The funny thing is, even though I’m expecting it and I know every single ******* time it’s going to come, you still ******* hurt me. Over and over again, and I don’t seem to learn but maybe it’s not even worth it. Since that day, feeling invincible in front of the flames, I’ve never had someone make me feel so vulnerable, before I met you.
Continue reading...
59
They say that heartbreak is one of the worst feelings you will experience during your time in this world. And I used to believe that, until I was standing and looking at someone that I wanted, who wanted me too but we couldn’t have each other. Our hands longed to touch one another, feel a sensation we felt once and never again. Run our fingertips over the surface of each others skin, and never wanting to stop because in that moment, we both felt whole. And we both felt something that we didn’t for a really long time, and maybe we would be okay because we were meant to feel each others embrace, or maybe at the last second, one of us would pull away because there wasn’t enough time left for us to feel. Because maybe it’s better to end things short and move on, instead of trailing along for something we both knew wouldn’t last much longer. But something about knowing, makes it hurt even more. Because we both knew we were enough for one another.
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Jun 1, 2019
Jun 1, 2019 at 10:34 AM UTC
Longing
Splatters of blacks and blues arrange a pattern amongst what’s left of my unscarred canvas.
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May 3, 2019
May 3, 2019 at 11:29 PM UTC
Stolen & Scarred