Welcome
A slow breaking and mending
of blood and bone
fit for the poorest
of ivory souls.
Pour tomber, pour courir,
pour mourir; no less!

Mademoiselle
No one, to you,
do tell.
A dream,
perhaps a nightmare,
that died in your arms
much too long ago.


conversation



Antiquity
Old blogs
mmwah
highschoolheart
tressaillements

Archives
May 2007
June 2007
July 2007
August 2007
September 2007
October 2007
November 2007
December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
March 2008
April 2008
May 2008
June 2008
July 2008
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
March 2009
August 2009
September 2009
November 2009
April 2010

Layout ©
Designer: Manikka
Resources: 1 2 3
Weblog Commenting and Trackback by HaloScan.com
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Two freaking weeks
I missed you, today, and everything around me faded into the memory of my arms around your shoulders; my hand on your cheek; the way your outline found its way onto mine.

Someday, we won't have to hide. Someday, I won't ever have to leave you like that -staring at each other until we'd both almost bumped into some car or tree, from walking backwards; again.

And someday..I really will go up to that overgrown mouse, and your whole damn fanclub, and tell him, and tell them all, that you -perfectly amazing you; are mine.

|

Monday, July 30, 2007
Shh *looks around*
My name is Mariposa, and I belong to a star..in its arms, I am a million well-kept kisses. I am a million well-kept kisses that fall like common rain, at the drop of a "mi mariposa hermosa." I am an onslaught of secrets spilled, at a whispered "le eche de menos tambien, tanto."

In those arms, and in whoever's arms..and in moments when I am in no one's arms -partly because there are no arms I'd rather have wrapped around my shoulders, than my star's; I am my star's, without question.

Laced fingers, intertwined limbs, and a star whose skin was made to be kissed!..whatever it is you're doing to me, I live to discover bits of its novelty each and every day. Because you..you're my star, Tala..the brightest one I've come across, the one I couldn't bear to pass by? The world brought me to you, as an offering -or more like a pilgrim on her search for clarity.

That's what you're doing to me; making sense of each mile of pain by the space between our lips, giving me reason enough for all the hurt imaginable with that hair that my fingers love to run across -that face, that smile..and that smirk (:

What am I doing to you? Well. You should know that whatever that elusive explosion of emotion is, is exactly how a star should feel in the arms of its Mariposa (:

You just had to say it, didn't you? You just had to bring me to my knees.

|

Saturday, July 28, 2007
Did you just..? (:
This is for the star whose smile makes me forget and remember, destroy and create: it is the one for whom my words are spun -because there is something about it that continues to make me smile.

It could be that hair and the way only I now know how it feels to look straight into those eyes (eyes that seem to see far beyond mine, and yet manage to bring me to my knees with that stare). It could be the ease with which our fingers lace, as that star takes my arms to wrap around itself; and the same way that all that makes me break into a cold sweat.

It could be tinier things..the way that honey voice compliments mine, or the way my part of the constellations says (or tries to say) its R's and the face it makes when I ask it to. It could be the way my eyes trace my star and only my star, up and down the court; or my star, right next to me -with that head on my shoulder, or buried into the curve of my collarbone.

And it could quite possibly be the way I want to tell the whole world -the whole damn world that wants that perfect little star, to stay away

..or maybe it actually is the way that same star makes me feel like I don't have to.

Todo cerca de usted que me consigue para sonreir (:

|

Imma lock this up, soon (:
You know, for sure, who this is for, now, right? (:

|

Friday, July 27, 2007
Tala
Yours is the smile I'd give so many bits and pieces of myself, for (:

|

Thursday, July 26, 2007
In awe
This is what happens: you speak, and I remember; you move, and my eyes follow (all the while betraying the nonchalance in my face -which, coincidentally, pays no homage whatsoever to the Truth that you make every scar worth peeling back).

There is so much fear in me, attesting to my personal Truths (that you are you, and I am Disaster)..but, just as you've given me every possible reason to see past all the damn hurt, you are my very reason for going beyond all this damn fear.

With whatever it is that's happening, I really am happy (:

|

Tuesday, July 24, 2007
I feel a weakness coming on
The clock's ticking is steady as my breathing; slowly in, deeply out, with not so much as a sound past my systems. The air is thick, around here..not at all like my air around you, not at all like the world around you; where everything's novel, where everything's new..where all I can do is hope it all stays true -where all I do is try to stay (ha ha).

Because past the clock, my sorry eyes close and let the heaviness breathe. Past the easy current of time, I've learned to excuse myself into dimensions of old thoughts and daydreams.

What exactly is that smile doing to me? Here I am, hours after, slipping into moments on display. You don't know what that smile's doing to me. Or I'd like to tell myself you don't when you obviously do -or obviously should. Are you doing this on purpose? Have you any idea what you're doing to me?

You're giving me every possible reason to see past all the damn hurt.

Don't get that moonlight out of your hair (:

|

Monday, July 23, 2007
It's been a while
Here I am, again..struggling to find those damn words. And what if there are no words? What happens when there are yet to be words? What happens when I..when I can't find the boundaries I'm out to cross, when I can't see all that clearly beyond the palm of my hand (so obviously phasing past time to the minute it can reach out for yours)?

Don't count your chickens before they've hatched.
Easy lang, idiot..easy lang. Don't ruin this.

|

Saturday, July 21, 2007
I called him wowo
I'll miss you.
I love you.

|

Wednesday, July 18, 2007
She calls it infatuation..I agree
Who's to say where exactly this is meant to go..oh right, "I am the captain of my fate; I am the master of my soul." So trust me, trust this..I feel as though I am commanding my very essence to do so, as well, anyway. Let's trust what's left of me to trust, together.

I can see where exactly this I'd like this to go..for me to signal to you that, with all the pieces I've given freely and lost by any other way, I've welcomed in the novelties I've come to find in you. I'd much rather get ahead of myself than stay scared. Something about you is pretty amazing, y'know?

|

Monday, July 16, 2007
Hallelujah by Imogen Heap
Baby I've been here before
I've seen this room and I've walked this floor
I used to live alone before I knew you

I´ve seen your flag on the marble arch
but love is not some victory march
It´s a cold and it's a broken hallelujah

|

Thursday, July 12, 2007
There's no place like Home
They say that life is so much easier when you find one, solid answer, then all you have to do is follow the yellow brick road. I'm not sure if I really am struggling to find that answer, or if I'm just trying to suppress the one I've already found because I'm scared to discover a dusty old road under construction.

Fear can be so irrational.

|

Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Boo settling
Don't give me straight-shot answers; present to me a revolution. I have no use for your flawless faces or picture-perfect smiles; what good to me is a lifeless vocation that seems to penetrate beyond Truth, beyond emotion, beyond anything that we used to stand so firmly, for? What I need is your hair pulled into a tangle at my touch, your face smeared, your path uncleared; what I desire so badly is to make a complete disaster out of every ounce of light you radiate. I can't stand to watch you sparkle, or glow like those prehistoric toys our parents used to stick onto our ceilings. Honey, you're a satellite waiting to combust.

Love is like oxygen (:

|

Monday, July 9, 2007
This is a disgrace
So little sanctity is left in this institution; I can feel everything we believed so dearly in, being torn apart millimeter by millimeter.

No boundaries exist, to properly separate the grey areas..they don't fit the same way, or arrange themselves accordingly, I suppose -how could these things ever fall into place by nature, of course.

In the end, it's funny how I still fall back on my old defenses. I'm well aware of how they've become void..but something about them breathes life into my resolve -something about the past presents itself along with as much comfort as it does fear.

|

Saturday, July 7, 2007
Who'll compare
Give me someone with a firefly's soul and infinite eyes. Somebody somebody somebody get me out of this slump, and streets -and corners and dimensions, away from this writer's block!!

|

Wednesday, July 4, 2007
Writer's block
There is something about the past that people will always be afraid of; not knowing where one road not taken could have led..not understanding where another, taken, is bound to go. And then there is the fatal question of whether or not we should have any faith whatsoever in the age-old cliche; the past will repeat itself.

Something about the past just isn't right. It's the kind of stranger you could encounter time and time again, without fail. It is the kind of stranger who could -and probably will; come up to you and, at any given moment, pull the trigger.

When the present refuses to forsake any consolation, is the World just asking for a little bit more of you? Then again, when hasn't that damn World taken anything, and everything, by force.

|

Monday, July 2, 2007
Fascinated with the dancer
You move in time, slowly..until your limbs
lose time to the beat.
Your grace remains, but
there is something different
in the way you seem to sway;
a few too many kicks,
an extra step or two.
What for,
or for who?
The world stays glued in their seats, to discover.

What exactly is behind that perfect form
and flawless position,
that smooths out every bruise and callous and pain?

|

Carla and..
I want a scandal. Now, na.

|