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RegretOnce, you were my everything.
I was blinded by my need.
How could it have ever worked,
When we could never touch?
You were my fantasy,
My dream love.
I still don’t understand why
It had to end the way it did.
Our beautiful love
Splintered into thousands of nightmares.
I know I was the one to break it off,
But I’ll always regret we changed so much.
Why did you drive me away?
Did I mean so little to you?
Or could it be I dreamed you into being?
All I have now are muddled memories,
And more missing pieces…
birdlike bonesit's like you
wrapped your fingers
around my throat
and then had
the nerve to ask me
imaginemy vacant fingers miss
the press of yours
even if it was only
in my mind
that we were
you were mine, there
floating happily through
eyes squeezed shut
because you were
right there with me
but now you're not.
are pressing into
the dips of her spine
and it's not
you said you wanted to
always make me happy
all you did was
make me cry.
MonstersThe monsters don't
live under your bed anymore.
They don't rattle your closet doors
and scratch at your windows.
They hide in your
pill bottles and sleep
with your razors,
laughing as you choke on
the smoke from your cigarette.
They sit on the toilet
as you vomit whiskey and rum,
counting down the days
until you self-destruct.
They throw flowers on your grave
surrounded by people pretending to give a shit
and tell everyone you were so
and that it's okay, because
you're in a better place, now.
Daddy, am I pretty?Daddy, am I pretty?
"Daddy, daddy look at me!"
She laughed and twirled around
Dressed up in her dress-up clothes.
Daddy didn't make a sound.
"Daddy, daddy look at me."
She told him once again.
"Daddy, am I pretty?"
Asked she, feeling empty within.
"Yes." said daddy flatly
Though look he never did.
She ripped off all the clothes,
Ran to her room and hid.
Daddy never came
To ever see if she was fine.
In her floor she laid.
All she could do was cry.
Daddy didn't love her;
She knew that in her heart.
It's not right for a five year old
To feel broken, torn apart.
Although too many years have passed
The story's still the same.
I called only when I needed him
But daddy never came.
Now my dreams are haunted
With that broken little girl
And her horrid misconception of
The best daddy in the world.
the writer's diseasemy conversations become
blurs of i-miss-you's
littered on the cold floor of empty promises.
you deserve something more than
silhouettes of words, casting shadows onto my heart
filling it with tricks of light
that try to hide away the darkness.
sit down and stay for a while--
except i'm going to go
because i never learned how to keep
the beautiful things
for more than a little at a time;
i'm left chain smoking words like cigarettes
one word after the other after the other,
exhaling them all with my cancer
and my thick, black lungs.
and they say a cigarette takes seven minutes
from your life--
yet these words take memories from mine,
stripping me bare of the way you said my name
or the way you touched my face
i read you poetry in the dark, once
fingers curled around wrists and hips
breathing words onto your lips as if i could
keep you, as if i could wrap you up
in the network of stars that made up your eyes
and get you to stay
but you could never stay
and we both know it isn't something
SirensThey converge towards her tumultuous tide
At a pathetic peasant like pace
Foolishly lured by this oceanic muse
As the sea and their vessel embrace
Enchanted melodies from the undertow
Ameliorate the stagnant sea
As resistance sinks to a watery grave
Temptation shows signs of buoyancy
It is only a whisper in the wild wind
Though such a sweet and innocent call
From beyond the slate grey clouded horizon
Comes the wretched waves of the white squall
Watching on in wonder from the widow’s walk
As the weak willed cast their final shadow
Entranced and entrapped by her prurient gaze
And swallowed in her seagirt meadow
Diabolical desire filled the boatman’s minds
Now as they sink down to the seabed
Copious levels of brine shall fill the lungs
Of their doomed, hopeless corpses instead
Dead water ripples gently under moonshine
Equilibrium is now restored
No sign of the siren’s most recent conquest
Nor of those souls that have gone before
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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