What vanity! our sad, wretched fires.We can’t legislate peace in our hearts.
We can’t educate sin from our souls, it’s been there from the start.
Newest
Wicked GameIt's about a man who knows he's going to love a certain someone but at the same time, deep down he knows it's going to be a pain to his person.Wicked Game
Like a moth to the flame, he won't know what is in store.
I see you Through those Bloodshot eyes There's a cure You've found it
by ~Maeve-Burnon
HavishamAnd as the time falls awayHavisham
As the hesitant years decay Just as your mudded trench welcomes you. I find time indiscriminately. Just for you.
by ~Maeve-Burnon
The bidderAt first there is magnificence, infatuation comes closer, it screams into temptations face.The bidder
Her exquisiteness is one such as a rag doll and he falls in love with her.
Obsession, desire, envy, rage, a lead to free the thoughts and their secrets.
They snatch at her, together, equally and all of them observe.
He sees this, their hands and eyes persistently throwing desire all over her as she succumbs to them, all of them.
Her hand wavers the smallest gesticulation for them to stop. But they don't, they just don't.
Without trust there is no love. &n
by ~Maeve-Burnon
ButterflyA little pitter patter of her feet in my dreams, I feel her.Butterfly
The smell of her hair is plenty to make my spine shiver and my hairs stand, you are perfect.
In your petite ashen doll night-time dress, clutching at the sides with your delicate graceful hands, you mischievously stamp your feet and grin devilishly making wrinkle marks on the fabric.
It doesn’t matter though because you are my daughter.
The crease in your left cheek and the raise of my eyebrow as you plunge your way through my make-up, eager to find something most terrible to apply but all to entertaining to watch. &nbs
by ~Maeve-Burnon
Favourites
decay_53by ~decay-stock
FearFear is a mongrel child - its slave coils snake tight in your belly, poised to strike hot, and too dense and bright to leave a scar beyond the brush of shadows.Fear
It aches; and cuts in clean ribbons and stops the easy innocence that lurks like a child in the corner of your eye.
It burns; and sits on your tongue in acrid syllables that scorch the dreams off soft white bones and strips your soul clean of artificial life.
It finds its prey in hollow sounds - the skipped beat of frail hearts &
by =Scarlettletters
Autumn Hillby ~vinyyli
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An Irishman has an abiding sense of tragedy that sustains him through temporary bouts of joy.
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Welcome to Finland, the home of wild polar bears. =]
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Are you watching closely?
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An Irishman has an abiding sense of tragedy that sustains him through temporary bouts of joy.
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Resistance is a story, surrender is an art.
"If you press me to say why I loved him, I can say no more than because he was he, and I was I." - Michel de Montaigne.
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Are you watching closely?
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Are you watching closely?
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An Irishman has an abiding sense of tragedy that sustains him through temporary bouts of joy.
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