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I am the seaInside I am blue and violent,
Just like your eyes, which saved me
From drowning - I was calm yet crashing,
Waves of apologies and sad smiles.
You hooked me through the heart,
You and your crystal clear blue
Keep me floundering, not sinking
To the quiet places in the deep.
The dark ocean of empty gestures
And bad decisions drags and pulls,
But I fight to the uncertain surface
For one breath, to call your name.
PorcelainLike porcelain, your skin was
Pure white and flawless.
You were perfection, and
I was mesmerised
As Glosoli sang
And I cupped your face
Into my imperfect hands.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
And your collarbones,
And the ambient lighting
That highlights you with shadows.
My hands flit across your chest,
Down to your hips,
Smooth and porcelain.
But hard too,
An unyielding shell under your skin,
Stopping anyone getting in.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
I run my fingers through your fingers
And your smile stays cold,
Porcelain and far away.
Ambient lighting highlights the shadows,
Under your eyes but it hides
That blotchy after-crying skin.
Mesmerised I want to reach out
But I see the cracks around your smile,
So I don't.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
QuakeThey call it heartbreak,
But really it was more of a quake.
Cracks spread out from the epicenter,
to my neck and to my thighs,
And widened until
As little flakes I fell away.
A damaged ornament, slowly
I collapse in on myself, and
In vain I try to hold the shards.
And after the aftershocks
There are too many pieces.
I feel myself fall from my hands
Jagged onto the cold floor,
And as you walk towards me
You cut your feet.
OpenIn the night I still hear the sound of her voice,
Gentle, like the quiet rainfall.
My eyes threaten to join in.
I remember your face and your hidden hands,
And every beat of my heart
Smashing my chest like it was trying to get out.
My ribs still echo with it,
Like my chest is cracking open.
Three years and still my chest is cracking open.
The dawn is darker than when I played Apple.
Outside it sounds just the same,
I can taste the tears still.
Three years old, when I screamed out in the kitchen,
While you made another kind of scream,
That I could not hear but I feel it now.
I feel the echoes swirling around,
Like my head is breaking open.
Three years and still my head is breaking open.
Petrichor and PeaceI find comfort in the quiet after rain.
Drops on the tarmac, chaos
And then silence.
The absence of sound is a sound
And the smell is new beginnings.
Petrichor and peace.
In fall after the leaves drop,
Crispy, ochre noises, til
Rainpour makes a mess of them.
No noise now, their colours blend
Into the ground and they regrow,
In the petrichor and peace
I find comfort that after our storm,
of industrial debris and man-made leaves
Fall rain will hammer down until
We are only echoes, and then
Silence and fresh grass,
Petrichor, and peace.
CountdownOn these long nights I am scared of death.
The changed moon reminds me that I am closer
To the time when my love gets grey hairs,
To the widow one of my parents will become,
To the empty rooms of children gone.
I fear the slip and fall,
And the look on your face on January 14th.
Both the inevitable, slow decline
And the unexpected screech
Of metal hitting metal.
To stand once more in a resting place,
Life once loved, now lost, and knowing
There are more lines on your face this year,
More things that you have forgotten,
And more cells awaiting rebellion.
Spring blossoms are a countdown
To a time without your eyes,
And more black suits and wilting flowers.
On these long nights I am scared
That I will be the last one left.
Do You Know What It Is Like To Be Unmade?It is that four o'clock curse,
Hypa Professional Stainless Steel,
Years past and bathroom floors,
"Now to know it in my memory".
Forgotten comforts and a lullaby,
Now your careless utterance.
Three years empty,
"Burnt Away" romance and consequences.
Scratch the night quiet.
"Jagged vacance thick with ice."
The skin will sing and sting,
Hypochondriac burns, twice.
And every drop of soul,
Poured out with the maelstrom,
Of cigarette stale lungs
And Holocene erases memory,
Internal parades eternally.
No mind enough to fill this mould,
"Someway, baby, it's part of me, apart from me"
That kind of loveI want a storybook kind of love,
Witches curses and poisoned apples,
Something to struggle for,
Against the odds,
Saved just in the nick of time.
I want a fable to envelop me,
And your eyes deep blue as the sea.
I sink down into their abyss,
And then your kiss,
A true kind of love on my lips.
I want a forbidden secret.
Insecurity and unsurity,
A crescendo kind of love.
As we are in the moonlight.
I want a snowstorm kind of love.
A blizzard to end all things,
Hurricane winds ripping apart,
Like tape and glue.
I want a nuclear reaction.
Irradiate my heart and soul.
A sickness kind of love,
With skin and pain and screams,
And aloe vera you.
I want a wartime kind of love.
Worries and kisses and tears.
Romeo and Juliet,
On no mans land,
We will embrace and die in love.
I want a fairytale.
Doomed and meant to be,
Unlike these faces I see,
The endlesss searching,
Trying to find some kind of love.
Next to BestLike the window pane race.
As mercury in the chill,
Lower the racers fall,
Victory puddles on the sil.
And the frozen teardrops,
Still and second best,
They are not winners, yet
They shine just the same.
Let's glow as next to best,
Not too special, but
A shining medals worth
Close to ideal.
Crossing in our time,
Not gaudy guilded gold.
Pretty good is second best,
I should know.
when you find yourself
in a crowd of familiar faces,
the struggle for breath
You Will PayI can taste the fear upon you:
The cold sweat in your palms,
The eyes that dart at shadows,
And the lips that are forced into a tightened smile.
You wait beneath the blankets,
Shivering each night as the anxiety rises.
You gasp at the slightest sounds and quiver...
For you are afraid of the curse that comes.
In your mind you see what you have done to me.
You watched as you ripped my tongue
And stole the very voice from my soul!
But even if I am without a body,
Even if I can no longer hold a knife to your throat.
Fear alone is enough for me to silence you,
And I will NEVER allow you to be heard!
Inner DemonI harbour a monster,
It lingers deep within.
It wants to escape me,
To tear free from my skin.
It gnaws at my insides,
And hopes that I'll give in.
It works hard to tempt me,
To lead me into sin.
It wants me to suffer
To feel its wretched sting.
But I stand true and strong,
I will not let it win.
The nights are the hardest,
In bed I pray and sing
To the Lord God above
To rid me of this thing.
But instead it remains,
My monster still within.
MazeLost within myself
Looking for a way out
This cannot end like this
Trapped in my own mind
A maze with no exit
I keep running and running
But I always end up
In the same place where I began
RustThe dwelling rust
swells this hollow garden
and somewhere in the yard
a tire swing goes flat
against the skyline.
It chokes the autumn light
in the silo,
the crush of
mums and ragged berries
It bubbles in the percolator
steeping still life
in the caul
of early morning -
the red-brown crumbs
of breakfast toast and jam
growing ghosts upon
And deep inside
I still hear you waking up
the soft salute
of morning voices
stirring the wind
outside my window.
Slaves of the deadSlaves of the dead
to find another land,
but they couldn't stand the desert and the frost.
Some died, some returned.
For those who returned
the masters had prepared a special punishment.
Their memory was wiped off.
They became thieves,
without ever understanding why.
They just felt it was the right thing to do.
Red Light ReduxHaving a truck
Paint me red
Is the strangest feeling
I’ve ever felt.
I’ve seen myself melt away
Like a mid-summer’s ice cream
While my personality screams
To be noticed. Every wall that once
Stood between me and reality
I am finally free.
Until they strapped me down
And sewed back my hands to my head.
My heart to my mouth.
My legs to the earth.
The taste of freedom
Rests gently on my tongue,
And I’ve been trying
To no avail.
MarksIt was the marks that reminded me,
Making it only six days
Til you had to be put back.
On the edge of my bed,
In your shirt and someone else's socks,
And cold hands.
There were too many hours,
And too many marks,
Like the marks on my skin.
No clean getaway, just
Dirty failed distance, marked
By blood and salt and six years.
Six years of blue tack,
Five pence per photograph deals,
Nights like this on the edge of my bed,
When you would hold my hand.
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A two-time Community Volunteer for the deviantART Related category, Anne is well-known as a positive, helpful force. She is the community's resident expert when it comes to CSS (Cascading Style Sheets), and her personal gallery offers a wide variety of tutorials for new and experienced coders alike. In addition, each winter she hosts a calendar project encouraging members to create Journal designs for all to use, bringing more creativity to the community.
It is with immense gratitude that we acknowledge Anne as the recipient of the Deviousness Award for October 2014. Read More