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Taylor Aug 2012
All alone in a crowded room.
So many eyes,
Staring at me through the glass.
Isolating me
Until I exist solely in my own reality –
With so many watching.

An icy substance.
I cannot feel my fingers,
But I know they are still there.
I'm watching them twitch,
And for once we have something in common-
We're both watching me.

Vision blurring,
I no longer see clearly.
But I see your face,
Standing out amongst all the strangers.
You cannot stop staring.

Something's changed in me.
What have they done?
Oh God, what was in that vial?
Why did you passively stand by and watch?
Watch me –
I'm succumbing to the experiment.

My spine is breaking.
I do not feel it,
I am numb,
But my view has shifted.
Now I see the ceiling.
Tiles, shifting?
I can no longer name the colors.
Muscles tearing.
What shape is my body in now?
Can you tell me?
I know you know,
I feel your eyes watching me.

I'm screaming,
Though I cannot hear,
My eardrums popped long ago.
I'm bleeding,
I cannot figure out where.
I'm choking,
I'm suffocating.
So much blood.
How can you watch me die?

My last thoughts,
That I'm crazy.
My last thoughts,
That I'm out of control.
My last thoughts,
That you watched me
Aug 2012 · 586
Taylor Aug 2012
I rise,
compelled by your stare.
Those sparkling blue eyes,
the most beautiful things I have ever seen,
command my every move.
Anchored to the ground by the strain of my toes,
I could easily rise higher,
floating away in a giggling bliss.

You make quick work of the space between us,
dispelling the nothingness that tries to keep us apart.
A trail permanently burns into my skin
where your hands had traveled before resting on my hips.
The warmth of your body,
fueled by a quickening pulse,
becomes my new life source.
No longer will I need to breathe
with you breathing,
for the both of us.

I rise,
compelled by your stare.
You step in,
drawn to my confidence.
You and I,
Aug 2012 · 590
Beautiful Syllabels
Taylor Aug 2012
I whisper it over and over again –
your name.
Under my breath,
as I repeat it like a secret,
the syllables tickle my tongue,
linger on my lips,
then hover in the air around me,
warming both my insides and my limbs,
enveloping me in a cloud of magic,
making me whole again.

My tongue expertly navigates the rising and falling sounds of your name.
It is similar to mine,
eerily so,
with a sweet twist that never fails to plaster a smile to my face.
My lips form the letters of your surname at a leisurely pace,
indulging in the pleasing way it fits in my mouth,
cradling the sounds,
wishing for them to remain mine forever.

I whisper your name wherever I go,
carrying you through each part of my life.
But when I'm alone,
your name echoes off the walls,
electrifying the air with the addition of two new words,
a loaded gun,
uttered before your thrilling name,
I and love
a collection of beautiful syllables that I can no longer contain.
Jul 2012 · 2.6k
Yellow Rain
Taylor Jul 2012
The soft texture tickled her toes
And she was quick to replace her bare foot,
Searching for a place free of the
Delicate petals
That fell from her hands.

Twelve more fragile futures fell to the ground,
Collecting in an indecisive heap
Whose beautiful, red hues
Played tricks with the sun,
Filling her head with illusions
That all will be alright.

She slashed at the other flowers
Standing tall and proud around her,
Dancing with the wind
To heart stopping lyrics
Sung in a language she could not understand.
Tearing them up from the roots,
She cursed their peaceful attitude
And cold, heartless souls
That continued to exude radiance
As they teased her fragile heart,
Dishing out good and bad news
With a lovely toss of their golden center.

It began to rain on their flawless figures,
Yellow drops burning imperfect circles
Through the otherwise perfect surface of their petals.
For minutes, it continued to pour on the flowers,
The large bottle held in the girl's trembling hand,
Marked kerosene,
Seemed to never run dry,
Drowning the roots in a deadly poison.

"He loves me not!"
She shouted,
Tossing the bottle aside,
Only after showering herself in the
Polluted rain,
Becoming momentarily fixated on the way she reflected the light
With dozens of drops clinging to her skin.

The lighter was ruby red,
Just like the petals who told of such a gloomy future.
She had purchased it at the drug store because of its color,
Her reflection bathed in red hid her uneven skin tone,
Making her for the first time an image of beauty.  

Flames took to the parched earth
Like a teenage girl to dreams of happily ever after.
Petals turned to ashes
And skin to a yellow, melted liquid,
Which fueled the inferno better than the yellow rain.

Blistered fingers still held the lighter,
The only thing visible in the dark,
Smoky air.
She clung to the image of her reflection,
Staring at the face that had never been loved,
And never would be,
Long after flames took her sight.
My take on "He loves me, he loves me not."
Jul 2012 · 688
Just One Night
Taylor Jul 2012
I want to write beautiful words on your skin.
Tattoo them with ink mixed with berries and blood.
I want to whisper my love in sweet, gasping breaths.
The words will seep deep and etch forever my name.
I'll make a mark in your life,
You'll be forever divine,
Forever mine.

Let's get drunk off each other,
My breath reeking of wine,
Yours smoky and sweet.
I'll pull you along on a leash made of roses
Picked straight from the garden,
Thorns dripping with love, a deadly red poison
A sticky, crimson substance addictive and ****.
I'll make a mark in your life,
You'll be forever divine,
Forever mine.

Close your eyes and count to ten,
Trust me not to take your life.
I'm learning a language known only to us,
Each gasp, breath, and jagged promise
Creating a rhythm of love lost to others.
I wish to place a finger on your lips
Trace your face and kiss your jaw.
Just like the blind learning to see,
I'm creating a map for a world just for me.
I'll make a mark in your life,
You'll be forever divine,
Forever mine.
Jul 2012 · 904
Lovers Dance
Taylor Jul 2012
I love you more than words can ever say
As I'm swaying to the music that I know will never die.
Take my hand,
One last dance,
Until eternity fades away,
You and I were never meant to separate.

Sing a tune,
A whistle high,
A melody oh so low,
Slowly turning, twisting, to the beat.
As time ticks away
We shall never age
You and I free forever
Like the notes that can never seem to stay in-between the lines.

The moment passed long go
Where we could go our separate ways.
Now you and I remain intertwined.
One beat that's true
One breath that fades
Changing with the tempo of our love.
One life to live
One voice to sing
One never ending melody
One world that's wrapped around our poisoned ring finger.

The sunsets on the fading day
It's crushing weight to hide the light
Yet we still shine through the inky night
Waiting for the world to end.
You know those things you are in love with when you first write it, but after you read through it, you realize it is not so great? Yeah, this is one of those.
Jul 2012 · 706
The Tattoo
Taylor Jul 2012
Her fingers shook as she pulled up her dress.
Nail polish,
A ninety-nine cent ‘Reckless Red’,
Provided startling contrast to
Her deathly pale skin
Covered with gooseflesh.

“I’m not sure,”
She whispered,
Her voice hardly audible to the man
Standing above her.
Her thumb drew circles over a patch of unmarked,
Smooth skin.
She added a little pressure,
Giving color.
It didn’t take much to feel her bone.
She was such a delicate woman,
No, child,
And her skin was paper-thin,
Her body free of fat.

A new set of fingers joined hers.
His touch sure and gentle,
Obviously aware of her nerves,
Trying somehow to reassure her
And succeeding.
He had closely clipped nails,
Filed with tender care
Into a smooth curve.  

Letting go of conscious thought,
She allowed her body to relax into the chair.
Intense, focused lighting caused sweat to bead on her skin,
Her body sticking to the fake leather.
Soon her voice erased all further nerves
As she trusted the stranger with her life story,
Which he sketched onto her skin,
Adding his own take of ‘The End’.

Her fingers shook as she traced her journey.
Nail polish,
A ninety-nine cent ‘Reckless Red,’
Complemented the inked stars
Which said more than words ever could
About what she overcame.
I dislike the last two stanzas.  I wasn't sure how to introduce that she was in fact getting a tattoo because it kind of implies that isn't what is going on in the previous stanzas.
Jun 2012 · 2.2k
Taylor Jun 2012
S tronger than myself,
You chain me to your wrist and
Narrow my vision
Until all I see is your sadistic face through the tunnel and
Those malicious brown eyes
Above thin, chapped, upturned lips.

T ainting my face, you do,
Painting with tears of both
Joy from your eyes and
The frustrated loss of hope that claims to be mine,
Which I proceed to rub with a scalding cloth
Until raw, I become
So I can claim to be blonde when people question if they saw and
Make a narrow escape from shame.

R un, I cannot; and
However cunning I may be,
You will still be on my tail,
Nose to the ground and posterior in the air,
Gaining speed at an unnerving pace,
Until my skinny knees clatter and
I violently shake,
Vomiting on myself,
Either from exhaustion or fear,
However, the later holds more ground.

E ven my breath becomes yours and
My dreams are at your mercy.
Consider my plea,
Lucky are thee to have me beg,
Thrown to the ground where dirt may stain my face,
An honor rarely reserved for anyone, but
You hold over me all I wish to have.

S neaking past all my guards
In elaborate disguises,
Thrown around in white and
Handed out with smiles,
I run like a fool into you,
Wrapping my arms in a tight embrace,
Greeting you like a friend who hides a knife.

S uffocating under your pressure,
I find myself screaming out.
In the darkest corner, I wish to hide,
Buried in words that cannot hurt,
Contrary to your bitter whispers and
Pestering bites.
Like a wound you fester
Deep beneath my skin.
Yes, I cannot take it.
Under your pressure,
I make myself mute.
My take on an acrostic poem.  
Personification and imagery, my two favorite things, all in one(:
Jun 2012 · 2.5k
The Moon
Taylor Jun 2012
By the light of the moon,
I will feel better.
When the clouds give way to its red, crescent shape
I shall no longer feel alone.
My pain is not so foreign,
Instead, it has been replaced with something familiar.

Thousand's litter my body,
Appearing with each new cycle of despair,
To be captured by a photographer,
Forever to scar my once perfect skin.
Now I can cry for something new.
These tears are for a pain that makes sense.
Jun 2012 · 471
Taylor Jun 2012
He told me he liked to tell stories and
Create things,
All while I sat at his feet,
Watching grey ashes from his Agio cigar
Land on his worn, steel-toed boots.
Condensation left a permanent ring around the handmade side table,
Having dripped off his always-present glass of Scotch.
'I used to enjoy olives, too,'
He had said,
Plucking two or three of them out of his drink.
He spoke that way,
Out of turn and in riddles.
Mother said he came back from Vietnam talking like that.
He also brought with him a scowl and limp in his left leg,
And on occasion he would lose feeling in that foot.

'I used to enjoy creating things,'
He always said,
As if those few words could bring back the past.
Jul 2011 · 796
Taylor Jul 2011
I can feel myself fading into the shadows.
Fingers claw at my shoulders,
Dragging me in deeper to an empty void.
I've been there before.
I've seen nothing,
Heard nothing,
Felt nothing all once before.

It starts with the shadows that cover your eyes.
You don't see much but the outline of your bed.
Waking up is a challenge,
Falling asleep is even harder.
And now…now I feel nothing.

I tear at the claws halfheartedly.
I'm scared to go back,
But I know I've already lost the fight.
I need something to stop this before it gets worse.
I need someone to hear the words I cannot say.
I need to be awakened,
Jul 2011 · 1.0k
Taylor Jul 2011
As the sun came up,
I cried for hours.
I gazed up at the sky hoping for a glimpse
Of the stars that sheltered me during the night.
I fashioned a boat out of a hickory spoon
And sailed the seas of melting ice.
I thought that if I were to be a sailor
And search the sky for the North Star as all sea-goers do
That I would find my comfort blinking, leading the way.
But atlas, the sun was too bright.
I closed my eyes and only hoped I'd guess right and sailed on in hopes to find
The stars that used to guide me.

As word of my peril reached those of the sky
Something in their heart opened up and the winged beasts flew,
Desperate to play the role of hero.  
Me, lost in my longing for a sight of a star, was at a lost for fear.
I grabbed hold of a dragon's foot as he flew across the valley,
Over the mountains,
And through the snow to fulfill a prophecy that would print his name in gold.
Wings folded back, he flew into the sky and through the fluff of fairies.
We were high enough to touch the beard of God,
But still the stars were hiding from me,
Playing a game I had no desire to play.    

And yet, as night falls upon the land,
The stars so close yet so far away,
I realize what a fool I am.
As I turn away to hide my blush,
I realize the stars had never left.
If I wanted to see them again all I had to do,
Was look into your light blue eyes.
Jul 2011 · 546
Bitter Words
Taylor Jul 2011
Shattered glass on the floor.
Broken dreams splattered against the wall.

Many can't see all their words touch.
Sometimes they heal,
Often they shatter at the ears.

Bits of papper scattered upon the bed.
Tortured words stain the sheets.

Tread lightly, speak softer.
Each words a gift,
And a curse
Jul 2011 · 9.3k
Taylor Jul 2011
They put red tape over lifes speaker.
All that is real is now lost.
They try to supress you,
Replace all you are with lies.
They want to make you all one being.
They fear the rise of a greater power.
They fear freedom and individuality fore it is the birthplace for rebellion.
The brainchild of longevity.

They hollow out your mind,
Make you numb inside.
So raise your voice,
Burn the tape.
Life is calling,
Shout out in reply!
Jul 2011 · 554
Taylor Jul 2011
The roaring sea became calm,
The shouting of birds ceased.
All children in class were silent,
The old and the young became still.
For one glorious second,
The whole world knew Jesus Christ and was at peace,
Before breaking out into a cry for the Lord.
It was a celebration,
One more girl had entered Lords magnificent kingdom.

But for one girl,
The peace, the serenity,
Lasted more than one second.
It stretched on for minutes,
For Eternity.
For she knows Jesus Christ,
Our Lord, our Savior.

She sat still,
Reveling in her happiness, her peace.
It wasn't shown on her face,
The change inside her,
She seldom smiled or frowned during important moments of her life,
Instead her eyes conveyed her joy.  
They were, as quoted, 'the windows to the soul.'
And her soul was shinning at that moment.
Casting rays of gold, green, purple, amber, and blue
Upon her heart, her life, and her mind.
For eternity.

She was at peace with herself.
She struggled no more,
And she knew she wouldn't face as much strife as before.
Lord now shared her burden,
Giving hope when she had none,
He was her shoulder to lean on for support,
He was for her to confide in and share her joys with.

She had been born again,
Into the kingdom of Jesus Christ.
God was who she served for.
He was her king,
Jesus was her translator.
She found purpose through Him,
Found life through Him,
Loved through Him,
And WAS through Him.

The world broke out into a cry.
Jul 2011 · 5.5k
Taylor Jul 2011
It's not in the art you make,
Words you sing,
Or grades you get.

It's doing what few do.
It's lending a hand.
Jul 2011 · 447
Love that never lasts
Taylor Jul 2011
"Love, why are you crying?"


Like glass,
Your image shatters.
I wake up with sirens blaring in my head,
And tears marking through the dirt on my cheeks.
I cling to the shreds of my dream.
Oh please don't leave!

Alone in my room I dance.
I dance to the sound of your voice,
That hasn't yet left,
From our meeting last night,
Late at midnight.

"Love, dry your eyes, I'm always yours."


Why must my dreams tease me so?
When waking up is so hard to do,
I sleep again just to see you.
I run through valleys,
Hugging myself.
Longing to feel your touch once more.
It all seems so real,
Because you are real.

I sing to myself.
I sing out loud our song.
The lyrics tell tales of what could be.
Of what follows me in my dreams.

La La La

"Love, why have you waken me?"
Jul 2011 · 1.8k
A Childhood Dream
Taylor Jul 2011
A purple sky gave backdrop to a web of stars.
Fairies flew through the night.
Waves of scarlet, indigo, and violet mark their trail.

A dragon roars off in the distance.
A wolf howls at the moon,
And a kookaburra sings,
Lending its voice to the chorus of the night.

Glowing fish zip through the moonlit lake.
Mermaids rest on rocks,
Tails adorned with patterns that come alive with the touch of a lover.
Their hair is done up with beautiful braids,
Dew drops as bracelets on their wrists.

A griffin lies at the mouth of a cave,
Its golden hide tattooed with a delicate hand.
Cubs learn to take flight,
Dodging pixies dancing in the night.

Young bear cubs run through the forest,
They hunt out sleeping wood nymphs,
Making a game out of waking the beautiful girls.
With a whack of a branch the game ends,
But not without a satisfying laugh from the nymphs watching above.

An elf watches from above,
Drinking in the smiles of the night,
The twinkle of the stars,
And sighs of embrace.

What a night to be alive.
Jul 2011 · 446
Taylor Jul 2011
I see the smile that threatens to appear on your face.
I see the sparkle in your eyes that toys with so many people's emotions.
Yeah, I see you.

I feel the skip of my heart when you **** your head to the side.
I feel myself struggling to breathe when you're so near.
Yeah, I feel what you do to me.

I hope you don't look at her the way I look at you.
I hope you see what he sees in me.
Yeah, I hope you want me too.

I love your brief moments of wisdom.
I love the trust you have in yourself.
Yeah, I love you.
Jul 2011 · 808
My selfish ways
Taylor Jul 2011
To be selfish as a child was to be naïve and unaware.
When I sat in the corner and tried to learn the ways of the world,
Struggle with what little philosophy I thought I knew.
Just six years old then and already losing myself.
I asked, "Does everyone else feel, or are they just here for my entertainment?"
That got me a smack from my mother, and forever kept my mouth shut.
Not once again did I share my wonders with her.

And older I got, wallowing in my selfish ways.
Grade school lunch room was where I practiced that awful sin.
Just two cookies was all I ate,
When just one I'd be fine with.
Genny there needed it more than me.  
But selfish I was, though it was just a little thing,
But a little thing was big enough to get a talking to from my mother.

Here I am now, still younger then all of you,
In ways I'm the same six year old losing myself.
Selfish thoughts I still think,
Never voiced but one.
I ask myself, "But who would really care if I ended my life?"
But then I hear my mother's voice,
"Selfish fool, my life would be nothing if it wasn't for you. I don't have enough tears for all I'd need to cry."
Yet selfish I remain, I still think those selfish thoughts.
Though I try to do good, I try to be unselfish,
But the devil has an interesting way of wrapping up death and serving it on a silver platter.
Jul 2011 · 1.2k
Once Lost, Forever Forgotten
Taylor Jul 2011
This is a poem for all the lost things.
The lost socks and pocket books,
The lost remote that was never found.
All the lost lines inside your head,
All the words left unsaid.
The lost hopes,
The unreachable dreams,
This is a poem for these.

This is a poem for all the forgotten.
The forgotten sweaters that can't shed a tear,
The meals that go uneaten.
This is a poem for all the forgotten friends,
And lingering touch of a lover.

This is a poem for all the lost souls.

This is a poem for the forever forgotten.
Jul 2011 · 3.3k
Dear Wildflowers
Taylor Jul 2011
Dear Wildflowers,
How does it feel to be the moons favorite child?
How about the suns personal treasure?
You're born in the spring,
Bloom in the summer,
And creep into our hearts in the winter months.

Dear Wildflowers,
How does it feel when the rain falls on your petals
Washing away your impurities?
Teach me how to guide the wind.
Teach me how to live life
Simple and Easy.

Dear Wildflowers,
How does it feel to be free?
To have no boundaries?
Share with me your secret,
How did you do it?
Did you charm them with your beauty?
Or do you simply have the strength?

Dear Wildflowers,
I envy you.
You're so beautiful,
Graceful as you dance together,
Mimicking the movement of the waves,
Magnifying it.

Every teenage girl who has ever gazed out the wind,
Across the lawn,
And into life's eyes.
Jul 2011 · 915
I wish I had a Talent...
Taylor Jul 2011
I wish I had a talent for drawing men.
To paint a picture with my brushes,
Sketch his jaw strong and straight.
I would make him with shaggy black hair to cover his eyes.
He'd carry a dagger and a young woman's heart.
And behind those eyes of his there'd be a story beyond compare.

I wish I had a talent for drawing girls.
I'd make her graceful and beautiful,
Just one stroke of the hand and her eyes alight.
She'd have flowing gold hair,
Wings to fly her high,
And love in her eyes.

I wish I had a talent for drawing flowers.
I'd draw a bouquet from him to her.

I wish I had a talent for drawing horses.
She'd ride upon the majestic stead,
Far and wide she'd search for him,
Just to sneak a peek at the smile he wore.

I wish I had a talent for drawing.
I could paint a picture worth a thousand words.
But then I remember where my talent lies,
Between the black and white lines.

I could make the man wield the dagger,
Either to save or hurt her.
I could make the girl fly high into the sky,
Or low to the depth of hell.
I could make the flowers give her joy,
Or end her life with the polluted smell.
I could make the horse run all the way,
Or collapse and never reach its goal.

I have a talent, the most dangerous of all.
Whatever I write,
Whatever I wish,
Is in my command.
Jul 2011 · 521
Father's Time
Taylor Jul 2011
Up on the chair he stood sneaky and proud.
The grin on his face gave it all away.
This boy was doing something not allowed,
He was sneaking into Fathers room.

He had curly brown hair to frame his boyish face.
Big brown eyes stared up with wonder.
He wore faded overalls over his cream shirt,
It was obvious he didn't belong.
But when he smiled at me,
It was hard not to lose all sense of mind,
To not right him off his wrong,
And send him on his way.

He stood with no shoes on an old wicker chair.
Up high on his tiptoes, higher than me.
Those small greedy hands reached up in pursuit
Of the only thing on the long pale wall.

"What are you doing," I asked in a voice much unlike my own.
It was southern and sweet,
With a grown up allusion.
"Nothin' ma'am. Just lookin'."
In seconds he was gone,
Left from Fathers room.

I had to hold back a chuckle
As I took away the chair.
The boy was trying to steal Father's time.
He was trying to make the world stop spinning,
To save my broken heart.
Jul 2011 · 740
His Vision, Her Brush
Taylor Jul 2011
He took her by the wrist and gently placed a brush in her hand.
She dipped it in a bottle of pastels,
And under His watchful eye
She drew a sky with all the colors before her.
A shade of blue glowed on the page,
And in the distance birds cawed.

Once He nodded in approval
Her brush painted a scene of love and silent tears.
Houses appeared on the page,
Each with more meaning then the next.
Gradually the scene changed,
As things do with age.

Her brush faltered,
Painting a scene in all blacks and blues.
She shaded her face until only the tears showed.
The painter stubbornly looked down,
Ignoring the face of beauty looking down at her,
Ignoring the gentle touch on her wrist.
She painted scenes of confusion and pain,
Worry and death.
She became ignorant and blind,
Forgetting the setting she had once loved before.

The painter suddenly noticed her mistake,
And once again found Him and the guidance He gave.
He whispered his plan to her
And her brush danced across the page with a renewed hope.
She painted all the joys in colors of yellow,
All the little hints of love in various tints of red.
Times of growth and understanding leaped off the page in vibrant greens.
She didn't hesitate to paint the sorrows,
Knowing that was what He wanted her to see.

And on the seventh day, He rested.
The girl, old and wise from the life she led,
Became a lifetime younger.
She curled up into His arms,
Like a child on a cold night.
He smiled down at her and she set down her brush,
Retiring to heaven
To admire the painting they had created.
Take a look at my deviantART profile.

— The End —