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WallpaperI find your conversation To be like a helium balloon Empty and PlasticWallpaper
Hollow
Like a gilded glass bauble... Amusing, but Fragile
Buckling and cracking when tested
With all the depth of a petri dish You enthuse about trivialities That will be soon forgone for the latest glammer
The neon paints of your manicure Obliterate the tragedies
In the Newspaper you spread
To save your tablecloth
And what if I decided to pry open the door to your soul... And found only wallpaper?
by ~Rainah19
ClearThe air was cold and clear, the sky was bright and clear.Clear
I headed for the outside, to make my head clear too!
And I saw...
Leftover leaves rustling in a plowed field - gold foil crinkling in the sunshine. Gilded pine cones adorning conifer trees, baubles and ornaments. Sunshine reflecting in a rushing stream...frothing, metallic, and buoyant. Fallen needle-pines carpeting the earth- swishing in paces. Bent grass stalks lying over fungus-caps...fonts of golden flax?
River-bank breezes lift wilting petaled skirts, revealing flashes of dusty pollen, the "come-hither" ye
by ~Rainah19
ChangeOh, and the grass smells the sweetest the last time it's cut And the Sun seems all the more russet in crisper air When the ripening apples are swollen with mirth I take their teasing invitation, sour juices running down my chin The world stops when I turn to a sunflower Its bright petals bob in the wind as sparrows bicker and prattle over the seeds I inhale the elusive scent of a changing season- tasting copper and earth The wheel turns, and the leaves follow suit life puts on one last show- before drifting off to a season of sleepChange
by ~Rainah19
NewAnd it starts the same way each time, the same cautious glances, tentative reaching, a game of words and tongues and light caresses...a dance evocative of summer nights and splashing lakes and bonfire heat. I can feel it when you run your fingers through my hair, and tell me how strange I am, how you've never met a girl who preferred mac n' cheese to caviar, and wasn't afraid to take off her socks so she could walk barefoot in the rain.New
But everytime it's something new, something different, something to get my heart racing in the dark - when all i can see is the gleam of your eyes and all i can feel is your breath on my skin. I can't b
by ~Rainah19
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I write e r o t i c a.
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An Irishman has an abiding sense of tragedy that sustains him through temporary bouts of joy.
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I did a shit on your shit
Irony completed ©
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An Irishman has an abiding sense of tragedy that sustains him through temporary bouts of joy.
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