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"swarovski" poems
Written there in your eyes the neon light of deceit. Your focus is all askew. Is honesty obsolete? Two sparkling Swarovski crystals Fooling nobody but you Turns out diamonds aren't forever least not their tone or hue
0
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 8:53 AM UTC
Deceit
sinderella was a nickname because i was the sinner and unlike cinderella i was not a charmer i was the known kid of sin doing bad to make a livin' never the girl scrubbing floors i was the girl looking for new drugs keen to experiment with death and the guy i fell in love with i wasn't a princess in disguise or a servant dressed in rags i was the troublemaker in her fishnets & leather wearing less than a dress even during winter nights drinking whiskey to fill me to keep me warm as i walk in the big city stiletto heels and dark make-up with a cool NYC diamond jacket swarovski crystal encrusted with chanel nails a mcqueen bag with my drugs & all that **** a wallet for my few dollar bills even though i get drinks for free because i'm young attractive, little darlin' me
0
Sep 28, 2013
Sep 28, 2013 at 3:27 PM UTC
sinderella - introduction
It occurred too As most things don't to me That these lapses Lapses? What were we on Obelisk over 40 Or is it over and then under. ¿Cuál es tu animal favorito I've left the list behind on the plane and not I'm not sure I can collect my thoughts that way anymore At least not for today Why? I left those thoughts on a plane and it has already set its tail aloft for soft breezes The air the air, soft as Fred Astaire And Ginger Rogers, is the night She wraps her hand into his 8 steps forward and a shuffle ball-change right. But it is something else isn't it Her bird like hips in a double tiered dress dripping with Swarovski and trimmed with ostrich as she descends the glass stairs from heaven onto a dimly lit ballroom A slight curl of the hair and the sharpness of her nose the counterbalance to the wave of her *** in that beautiful ******* dress Oh and Fred? You keep up. You do.
0
Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 6:50 PM UTC
It Occured Too
The furnished souls Adorned with mahogany Luxurious pieces in every corner Eau de parfum, the finest from France Does not allure the senses The settees, chaise lounges and recliners Standing there, forlorn, awaiting guests The ornate crystal chandeliers adorn the ceilings Trying to illuminate the gloominess The flooring of Makrana marble on the floors As if there is a puzzle to be solved It looks quizzically at the incoherent footsteps Of the infrequent visitors, not even interested Mansion filled with embellishments Yet there are no worthy inhabitants The Swarovski crystal curtains, veils the outside world That waits, without any expectations or superfluities To furnish the soul with love © Amitav (Radiance)
0
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 9:23 AM UTC
The Furnishing
My English teacher told me that my sentences didn't have enough commas. Sounds to me like she just needs some looser cardigans. I just want Swarovski crystals and silk pajamas. I want nice bed sheets and curtains. Preferably white and lacy. I want a nice little part time desk job that's only a few days a week. you see, I'm actually a good writer, but it's not straight A's on essays that I seek.
0
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 4:00 AM UTC
Nice Things
Don't look too proud, darling, because dignity is dripping off the Swarovski crystals on this broken chandelier and your name is the last thing they would spell out if they came crashing down. A bunch of boisterous words & boastful stories won't get you very far except for a couple steps [s d a r w k c a b] And if you wanted to dabble a chord on my heart strings, it would have been easier to not say anything at all, but your once dormant thoughts began pouring out of your once silent lips in some childish attempt to rattle some sort of r      a      t       o        e       c      i       n And behind those innocent eyes lie only craters you dug out of yourself because of your own selfish pride. So don't act too proud, darling, speak a little louder and you'll end up biting off your own t   o   n   g   u   e   . gd
0
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 8:59 PM UTC
Leo.
You gave me silken scarves and solitude To weave my own bindings You gave me surpluses of satin Bandages for skin you broke You gave me Swarovski accessories As if it excused your absences You gave me smooth apologies A salve to my twisted fingers
0
Jul 24, 2019
Jul 24, 2019 at 11:12 AM UTC
gifts
(Short Story) The questions burned inside of me searing through my guts to my core leaving a trail of ash through this house treating my blood like gasoline smoke rising to my head melting my brain Down to this; One question - Did he do it? I could hear my heart beating and watched the hairs on my skin shake a little from the rumble of its thunder. I asked this question to myself over and over. First, in disbelief. Not letting the facts in front of me fully sink in. But as hours passed, the question began to change and I began to see the woman in the mirror staring back at me a little bit differently. We’ve almost been here. Time and again. This place of such uncertainty and unknown. But never this close. Not here where we are today. I poured a glass of wine and kept the channel 3 tv on mute. Leaned against the cabinets and granite counter top in the kitchen. I put my head down. Starting at the residue of water stains on the glass that I had chosen. These water stains are disrupting my peace, I thought. Just another flaw in this house that nobody else sees. Infidelity allegations, sleepless nights, bedroom fights, and now this? I put the glass down, found my way slowly in my Saint Laurent Swarovski crystal-embellished satin pumps through the dim, echoing hallway to the den. My place for morning light and his for evening company and cigars. I looked all around, starring at every wall. Flashbacks of us stripping down, him gripping my waist as he thrusted inside of me while I held on to these walls for stability. A house that has seen many things. If these walls could speak I may not believe their stories. But this story, is difficult to disbelieve. Not revealed from walls, but through the power of the news media crew. Unfolding and developing stories ringing in my ears. Like high frequency waves making me dizzy. The story of Anna. The last breath she took and the last person to see her alive. The man they believe to be her lover. A quiet man, intuitive, logical and a realist. A hard working, loving and devoted family man. My husband, Oliver. Now under the authoritative custody of the Mipson county sheriff department, as a prime suspect for the ****** of Miss Anna B Delaney. Details of the scene have not yet been released so it is still unclear and most inconceivable to imagine what happened to Anna.
0
Jun 16, 2018
Jun 16, 2018 at 11:29 PM UTC
What Happened to Anna?
(Short Story) The questions burned inside of me searing through my guts to my core leaving a trail of ash through this house treating my blood like gasoline smoke rising to my head melting my brain Down to this; One question - Did he do it? I could hear my heart beating and watched the hairs on my skin shake a little from the rumble of its thunder. I asked this question to myself over and over. First, in disbelief. Not letting the facts in front of me fully sink in. But as hours passed, the question began to change and I began to see the woman in the mirror staring back at me a little bit differently. We’ve almost been here. Time and again. This place of such uncertainty and unknown. But never this close. Not here where we are today. I poured a glass of wine and kept the channel 3 tv on mute. Leaned against the cabinets and granite counter top in the kitchen. I put my head down. Starting at the residue of water stains on the glass that I had chosen. These water stains are disrupting my peace, I thought. Just another flaw in this house that nobody else sees. Infidelity allegations, sleepless nights, bedroom fights, and now this? I put the glass down, found my way slowly in my Saint Laurent Swarovski crystal-embellished satin pumps through the dim, echoing hallway to the den. My place for morning light and his for evening company and cigars. I looked all around, starring at every wall. Flashbacks of us stripping down, him gripping my waist as he thrusted inside of me while I held on to these walls for stability. A house that has seen many things. If these walls could speak I may not believe their stories. But this story, is difficult to disbelieve. Not revealed from walls, but through the power of the news media crew. Unfolding and developing stories ringing in my ears. Like high frequency waves making me dizzy. The story of Anna. The last breath she took and the last person to see her alive. The man they believe to be her lover. A quiet man, intuitive, logical and a realist. A hard working, loving and devoted family man. My husband, Oliver. Now under the authoritative custody of the Mipson county sheriff department, as a prime suspect for the ****** of Miss Anna B Delaney. Details of the scene have not yet been released so it is still unclear and most inconceivable to imagine what happened to Anna.
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16
when we get out when i get out, i will dance with my eyes closed and my heart full with my friends we will sing songs excited and pitchy and a little too loud like our heart beats tone deaf, but in sync nonetheless we will hold each other like never before because now we know that at any moment, that string that connects our hearts and minds could be cut when i get out i will take you to the moon, we can hop from star to star until we find what we are looking for i will drive you to the edge of the earth just to hear your laugh and feel your warmth for as long as i can we will spend hours trying to figure out how to fit our thumbprints together like puzzle pieces we won’t stop until we get it when i get out, the sun will shine a little brighter than it had before when we get out you will feel my love in every breath, deep or shallow, long or short puffs of air littered with a trillion swarovski crystal hearts just for you
0
Apr 24, 2020
Apr 24, 2020 at 10:21 AM UTC
after
Is this really happening? pinch me? Ouch **** that did not help He is just smiling into the distance He goes to work whistling He does his chores half-heartedly He is finally paying attention to his physique after 10 years Slim fit only His hair is in a new style mmm what is that I smell Allure from Chanel? No more hanging with the boys playing poker sitting in front of the TV binging on horror shows Works Overtime I think i just saw him buy a new cellphone Missed calls Weekend Trips Candy hearts and vanilla almonds Blue Swarovski box Is this all for me?
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Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 2:27 AM UTC
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