My heart is full; it's overflowing
pouring into my arteries
my veins
my skin is flush with it
my eyes weep with it
my lips are wet with it
i am infused with it
i am infused with you
and you are in all of me
As the music plays, hard and fast, the younger ones dance. At the height of life, emotional and full of vigor, they easily fit in to the swaying, swirling mass. The bright colours of capes and feathers, hats and skirt hems fly by, flashing in and out of the crowd.
Candlelight dances across the shining surfaces of rings and necklaces, gems and jewels, trinkets, baubles, and the twinkling eyes of a hundred smiling youths. The music slows. They take their places and slide into the graceful positions of this new dance.
The pattern takes form, merges, separates, seems to collide, twists, dips and swings away. Stately steps come faster now, then
In my heart, I remember a time when a person was judged on the morality of their actions, not the deceptive artifice of their words. Manners were a way of life, and instilled for respect of oneself and others.
Talent was praised in equal proportion to hard-earned skill. There was always a right or wrong thing to say or do. The world came in black and white, and anything in between was put to the test, judged, and relegated to either side.
Honour was more than just a word on a page. It was the deciding factor in every one of your actions. It was not just an idea or a concept, it was your life and how you lived it. Honour, and courage, and br
Kaitlyn knew she had a problem. It was psychological, she was sure. That didnt make it any easier. Ever since the . . . attack (she supposed that was what she should call it). Ever since the attack . . . she had changed. Everything was so . . . different. She was losing weight, she couldnt eat normal food any more, and what she did eat, she couldnt keep down. She was getting sickly, and she was always frightened. She could barely bring herself to leave the house, even when she knew it was safe. She couldnt look her friends in the eye anymore. Her whole family was worried about her. They were even asking her to move bac
It is the will of the people
It starts slowly, a gathering like storm clouds on the horizon.
They move as one
They speak as one
Their voices rise over the pounding of their footsteps as they draw closer
Sounds of thunder and shrieking winds
Battering against the door
Crashing into it, seeking entrance
The storm hits
Lightning strikes, the rain slashes down like needles
There is blood on the streets
Buildings engulfed in flame
In the center of the maelstrom, a voice rings out
The word spreads fast
It is done
Anger sated, the storm breaks
A new leader arises
You cannot defy the will of the people
Insignia of a shy girl,
Sky blue on chocolate skin,
Simplistic beauty, product of her mind,
Belied by humble demeanor.
Marked.
"You are mine now," she says.
"This is for my friends."
I met her yesterday,
She drew it on my arm this morning.
There was a girl with porcelain skin,
Eyes like flashing opals,
Swirling black hair,
A smile like wildfire and poison,
Her laughter was ringing bells that shook me to my core,
Her love was molten lava flowing through my veins,
One week,
One week when she was mine, and mine alone,
She showed me the beating of her heart, and held my hand while we slept,
For one week I shared her with no one,
I ache, wishing I could have that time again to live over,
No more,
She walks alone now on a path I cannot follow,
A path where I do not belong,
I walk along my own path, and watch her walk on hers,
She turns to me and reaches out across a gu
My heart is full; it's overflowing
pouring into my arteries
my veins
my skin is flush with it
my eyes weep with it
my lips are wet with it
i am infused with it
i am infused with you
and you are in all of me
Kaitlyn knew she had a problem. It was psychological, she was sure. That didnt make it any easier. Ever since the . . . attack (she supposed that was what she should call it). Ever since the attack . . . she had changed. Everything was so . . . different. She was losing weight, she couldnt eat normal food any more, and what she did eat, she couldnt keep down. She was getting sickly, and she was always frightened. She could barely bring herself to leave the house, even when she knew it was safe. She couldnt look her friends in the eye anymore. Her whole family was worried about her. They were even asking her to move bac
There was a girl with porcelain skin,
Eyes like flashing opals,
Swirling black hair,
A smile like wildfire and poison,
Her laughter was ringing bells that shook me to my core,
Her love was molten lava flowing through my veins,
One week,
One week when she was mine, and mine alone,
She showed me the beating of her heart, and held my hand while we slept,
For one week I shared her with no one,
I ache, wishing I could have that time again to live over,
No more,
She walks alone now on a path I cannot follow,
A path where I do not belong,
I walk along my own path, and watch her walk on hers,
She turns to me and reaches out across a gu
In my heart, I remember a time when a person was judged on the morality of their actions, not the deceptive artifice of their words. Manners were a way of life, and instilled for respect of oneself and others.
Talent was praised in equal proportion to hard-earned skill. There was always a right or wrong thing to say or do. The world came in black and white, and anything in between was put to the test, judged, and relegated to either side.
Honour was more than just a word on a page. It was the deciding factor in every one of your actions. It was not just an idea or a concept, it was your life and how you lived it. Honour, and courage, and br