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the birds sing a note, or twoI am awake on this dark London night; so dark. Everyone beyond could be dead, the beginning and end of the world. Moonlight on grass and roofs and brick-walled buildings. I lean my head on the cold glass of the window, smelling tea and cologne and fresh rain.
Still dressed in tights, mascara on my lashes and perfume clouding my hair, I sit on the windowsill and converse with the dark-haired boy in the room below. No packing tonight; left for tomorrow—tomorrow, when the world wakes up. Not now.
In the room less than a hundred meters away my sister paces, curtains drawn, thinking alone, telling no one. In the room next door the Russian model cries tears that mixes with her lipstick, stained red. In the room below the boy pauses in his sentence and doesn't continue.
Bright lights in Hong Kong glimmer in the dark harbor and at home there must be the sound of piano songs as my brother plays. Midnight ticks by. I close my eyes and think of mornings with rain and history lessons, of aft
our world, in sunshineThe most beautiful thing I've ever seen is the world in sunshine.
On December mornings, I sit on the porch and blow on my swirling cup of coffee, watching as a ray of light falls from the skies. It reflects off the windows and scatters rainbows across the grey sidewalks in shattered colors.
A garbage truck drives by. The grimy orange fades away as the sun strips away its layers of dirt. The orange becomes a dazzling shade of tangerine, blinding in its brilliance. Only a moment in the spotlight––but it is a moment more of glory and wonder, with only the flowers to witness and the trees to retell.
Not three minutes later, a young girl walks past, bouncy in step, her golden curls bright and her red coat glowing. The sun catches her in its embrace, dropping brightness upon her small figure, and though no one is watching, she smiles proudly.
There is a splendor here that cannot be denied. The charm of the universe and the loveliness we all possess is so often hidden in the dark,
your laugh is like
a sunburst of colors
on rainy days.
the night was misted
last we said goodbye,
and the dark enveloped us like silk.
i told my friends about it,
and they smiled like camellia blossoms,
the wind is whistling,
whispering whimsical words
weighted with wishes.
such blank betrayal,
surely judas would have approved.
surely he must.
mistress of mazes, the unfortunate one–
you would have known.
there i sat
it would have been
foolish, i suppose, to
hope for anything more.
it would be best
if we could just
a visit from octoberOctober is the prettiest month.
She comes knocking on the door every year, with a bouquet of marigolds placed in a blown-glass vase, sparkling with fresh dew and the last vestiges of summer rain.
I always have to remember to bake pumpkin pies before her arrival, and I make sure to cut them into ten slices, an even number to share. She sweeps in, bringing with her the scent of autumn, and greets me in a voice like the rustle of falling leaves.
We dine together every night for thirty days, gossiping about the dubious cruelty of April and the wintriness of December. She takes out the sweets she carries with her wherever she goes and scatters them over the table––for a touch of whimsy, darling, she whispers with a wink.
On the thirty-first of the month, we sit on the porch and make masks out of cardboard. She smiles at the children when they run up to ask for candy. We'd already finished the candy she brought, so she offers a morsel of cold pumpkin pie that she saved up.
oh, opheliaYour eyes are dark, radial striations liquid in form, and I drown in them whenever I catch a glimpse. I have your voice memorized, the deep husky baritone that makes me melt inside…but you'll never know. Not now, not ever, not unless I muster up a courage that's been buried for so many years.
I've comforted you before. I've brushed your hair from your eyes, patted your arm, hugged you goodbye. I've argued with you, complimented you, defended you. I've celebrated your birthday, applauded you from the sidelines, cheered your name.
I've loved you for so long now, and you just don't seem to see. Your eyes flicker with affection, but it's never the kind I want. You've given me your shirt on a freezing night and you've brought me out to dinner and you've clasped me so gently.
But why won't you look at me?
There's always another her, someone tall, tanned, beautiful. Someone else whose smile shines brighter than mine, someone with a confident swing to their walk, someone w
breaking pointyour life
must be perfect.
must be perfect.
is a balance beam.
are the gymnast.
are your parents.
are your teachers.
is a race.
need to win.
i'm fine"Sorry I'm late," he greets her. He looks around as he sits down. "Where's John?"
"Coming soon, I imagine," she answers brightly.
He grimaces. "That fellow. He's always late." He picks up a menu and flips through it. "So. What'll you be having?"
"Oh," she says, her tone still bright, "I ate already. Too full for anything else."
He frowns at the price of a salad. "Really?"
"Well. The chicken is really quite large a meal. Want to share?"
"No, I really couldn't," she says, her lips still smiling.
"It's on me," he says cheerfully.
"No, no," she says, and a thread of panic seems to weave into her throat. "I'm really very full. Why don't you just order something smaller?"
He puts down the menu and stares at her. "Are you all right?"
"Yes, of course!" Her voice is pitched too high, and she seems to realize. Her next sentence comes out smoother. "How about the pork? It's quite good, and a bit smaller."
His gaze encompasses her. Her hair seems to be thinning, her face is gaunt, and the
obsessionAs the group saunters past shops in a mall, they chatter idly about their classes, their professors, the weather, the food. He laughs with them, jokes around, and listens carefully as they move on to more personal matters.
One of his friends, Jack, who is attending AA meetings, is talking about how well he is doing, but how the struggle is an unending uphill battle. "Every time I think I'm getting better, I'm also terrified of falling back into my old habits."
"I feel your pain," Linda chimes in, who's already recovered. "But believe me, it gets better."
He nods and smiles, and nods some more. His neck is aching a little, and so is his back, but that's expected, the doctor had told him. The result of sitting in a chair for too long, staring at the same thing. Suddenly he realizes they are walking past a computer store, and, involuntarily, his footsteps slow to a halt.
"It's just, every time I see a bottle…" Jack's voice continues, but he isn't listening anymore. The sight of the
sunlit rosesIt takes some talent, to make someone love you as much as I do.
We've known each other for a while now, and ever since that first meeting, I've recalled how our relationship has transformed from exchanging aloof smiles to trading inside jokes that no one else could possibly understand.
There's something about you that I just can't put my finger on, something that makes me want to smile and laugh and cry all at once, because even if I'm unable to make heads or tails of it, I want it to be mine all the same.
I want to be the one who catches your tears and strokes your hair. I want to be your shoulder to lean on, your pillar of strength, your well of dreams. I want to be as essential to you as breathing, so that you can know how I feel everyday whenever I catch a glimpse of your smile.
You are my sky, my sunshine, my source of warmth. You make me believe that I can achieve great things and that I am not ordinary. You make me feel like I am special.
Every time I can erase worry from your b
Surprise Tea Party From HellMy Jack Frosting is gone,
Once I finish my drug-laced Earl Grey tea.
Now, what are they going to do to me?
The Great DescentI was told about
this place, where the leaves just
won’t stop falling.
I go there at night
mind and body crushed like ants
in eternal restlessness.
Mountains burst with trees
laughing children crowd around
chains on swings, creaking.
The mountains enrage the wind
branches crash, mad waves on shore
before they freeze again.
I think I might be mad
maybe these trees will tell me -
whisper it in dreams.
The same wind wraps ‘round
my body, and every leaf’s
a spinning frenzy.
One tree looses all leaves
at once - they hurtle at me
as bullets, shining red.
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More