Sta.sh
Warning: updates will be spastic.
Thank you and have an immensely spiffy life!!!
Neko
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A Letter to Jacob Isn’t it funny?A Letter to Jacob by ~NekoTheAngelCatgirl
The way you think you know me?
Isn’t it funny?
You smile at me politely, guessing at things past my exterior, settling a label firmly under my name. A mental snapshot of me is forever etched with a meaningless word. So now when you think of me you think of everyone else? Soft touch on the shoulder, brush of breath as you whisper in my ear…
Doesn’t it hurt?
The way you sew yourself into my skin?
Doesn’t it hurt?
Trail a hand down my back, feeling for secrets. I catch my breath and hate myself for it. Can’t you leave me and my hurt alone? Honestly, he’s almost as tempting a
Photograph She sits, waiting,Photograph by ~NekoTheAngelCatgirl
for something more than herself.
A spark-- a soft glow of hope
lighting up her face
warming her heart
dispelling the darkness.
She reaches out,
catches hold of something,
something gray and paper-thin.
A heartbeat.
A moment frozen.
A reality that is no more.
Holds it to herself,
clasping it to a chest that aches for the past.
The spark grows brighter.
And brighter.
Flickers,
flutters at the edge of the paper,
twines golden fingers around it.
Crackles and snaps and shines
until the memory fades
And only ash remains in her hand.
And she sits, waiting,
for something more than herself.
Of Stars and Moonlight At first he was nothing more than the hushed sigh of a breeze blowing past my bed.Of Stars and Moonlight by ~NekoTheAngelCatgirl
Every night on the dot. Midnight. He would drift by, like moonlight, tenuous and soft. And I would squint into the darkness, hoping to see more.
Then one night I awoke to the faint whisper of fingers on my cheek. I opened my eyes, remaining motionless, not wanting to scare him off.
My angel. Made of cobwebs and opals and old, forgotten moonlight gathered from the corners of tombs. Tall and dark and full of uncovered mysteries.
He would smile at me, sorrowful. And hungry. His wings stretched over the two of us, blacker even than the night he arrived
a moment of your time I am a writer because my mother says so.a moment of your time by ~livingcomforteagle
I am a writer because I am teaching myself to look for my pothole blue eyes, fat stomach smile, and popped-bubblegum cheeks in mirrors, television screens, and reflective surfaces. I am a writer because one time I had an innocuous crush on my second cousin and I still cherish all of his two-line emails. I am a writer because I am the stereotypical, spoiled, overloved only child.
I am a writer because my grandfather, who
Joy 
--
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I may not know what's out there waiting for me.
But i know what I'm looking for.
The Truth.
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I may not know what's out there waiting for me.
But i know what I'm looking for.
The Truth.
--
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I tagged you.
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the game.
i lost it.
And thx you again for compliments !
( Sorry if my english is bad, I'm not endowed >< )