SkeletonsI'm doing well so far- up and dressed, trailing around the kitchen in bare feet,Skeletons
running my fingers along the arm of the Settee, the one prized relic saved from the slaughter house and the shuffles of slippered feet, the aches and pains and the fights over the TV channel.
I remember how it was before you left, before the planning and the re-planning and the visits from unsuspecting relatives, the cards and flowers and the same old line, chewed up and spat out in a thousand different ways,
impossible to digest- Sorry For Your Loss.
Picture
Pastry.I never tire of watching you. You stand at the kitchen counter in heels and a dress, humming songs you pick from the radio, with the volume turned down low and the windows thrown open, gaping, against the breeze. The paint on your fingernails is chipped, flaking, and I remember buying it- standing amongst the bottles in the beauty aisle, choosing a colour and a shade to suit you best, a £5 note crushed in my pocket- I always chose red. I steal bits of apple from the side when you’re not looking. We both know, and neither of us care- you smile from the corner of your mouth, like you know a secret, and I want to kiss you. I watch your finPastry.
ID .Ropes.And it astounds me, the way you can do anything, say words that make me turn my head away and blink furiously, eyes burning- and I’ll still like you. I remember what it was like before the seasons changed and the summer swept away into new timetables and books and classrooms, complex formulae spinning in kaleidoscope fragments, hanging in the air like lead clouds. Cancer, bad breath, empty pockets- I could reel off the list for hours to no avail. It doesn’t matter- you always waved my words away and said, The best things are addictive. It’s umbilical- the way I cling to you, the thread and loose ends I tie to you. You pull mRopes.
On Contradictions and PillowsI dislike wanting you so much. I want to wake up with you never happening, I want to open my heart and see clean muscle and unused heartstrings – I hate seeing the hands I know so well, tugging. If I ask you to stop then you disappear, and I realise I contradict myself but it’s impossible to be in love and not.On Contradictions and Pillows
And suddenly everything smells like you. I walk into rooms that are your house; my hair is your hair. And I cannot breathe without tasting you in my mouth, I cannot move without brushing past you – and I try, I try to slide past; I try to hold my breath, clutching my palm across my mouth but human reflex always kicks in, you kno
fashion room
I'm leaving dA
It's been forever and a day... how are you?
This is the first time I've been on dA in years... I still don't understand it!!! :S
Anyway, how are the A-levels going? And are you planning on going to uni? If so, then where, and what course?
An English Literature related one I guess?
Hope you're keeping well anyways, Miss Walton.
I do miss you! xxx
--
Be yourself, is the best you can be.
Charlie x
How are you?
xxx
--
Be yourself, is the best you can be.
Charlie x
She is stunning.
--
Be yourself, is the best you can be.
Charlie x
My english is very very poor, I can't understand your texts. But a friend will translate it to me...
wait...
wait...
loves.
--
Keeping an inert course
More of me on SuicideGirls.com!
Your gallery is wonderful.
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