[x]

SilentA woman walks across an empty room.
Wrinkled and wan flowers upon paper race slowly away
from walls neither washed or noticed
ever
since . . .

She sat by the open window
tasting rain with her soul,
thinking far away into another land,
seeing a proud face
barely wrinkled, fairly tanned
staring out from so deep,
all women who gazed,
fell even deeper.

Not the sort of man she would win,
yet there was something present,
wild animal,
desperate,
frail needful child
like when . . .

Flash of lightning,
torrents upon her face,
riding to capture the wind
not to be abandoned,
thunderous hooves pounding hard
upon dirt, pavement, gr

GlassI always laugh when you refer to me as glass.
Not just because of the way you say it,
(glass-as-in-gas).
Or because I know it's a crack at my fragility.

Glass is pure.
I am like granite -
my body nullified from too many clashing traits.

Glass is transparent.
I am like clay -
illegible from all the plastered smiles.

Glass is unyielding.
I am like chalk -
easily broken and scuffed away by meagre things.

Glass is hung up on walls and in great cathedrals,
tinted for enhancement, but only ever painted on by fools.

I am hidden behind keypads and camera lenses,
coated in a thick paste of deceptiveness.

No, my love,
I was never glass. (Despite

BelovedBeloved:

Perfectly pleasant
With a bright radiant smile
If only for me...

-Chen Yuan Wen, 4th January 2013

To Save Your Life

To Save Your Life

Heroes are hard to come by

Especially in this day and age

Because of you- I am still alive

Hail, the vanquisher of pain
-
I fought as long as I could have
But I sank into the weakness below
And I felt my sorrow's wrath
The helplessness took over

My fists let go
Of the resistance

I fell from hope
The light faded in the distance

It was all a dream
A wish...

A simple false belief
I hid...
-
Hands dangled frantically / Tears dripped endlessly
I needed a hero to save me / I yearned to be set free
-
A hand reached out
Held tight...

I was finally found
Relieved sigh...

I rose back to grace
And the darknes

Sick.life slouches against the door

[i think i can hear it crying]

sickly grins lick my lips;

rub the undersides

of scream-sore throats

stained with the sweetest sort of bruise

every nerve--

a soft

atrium flow;

cutting

capillaries

screams all my own

swallowed in cotton lungs

pressure in my skull

fire in my veins

holding the skin i had

clinging tighter to fragility

and i just can't find

the strength to cry

anymore

the night stretches on for months

red.

red.

black.

i shake like a leaf

wet scribbles, tattooed tragedyI am shedding my skin
like the poetry that bleeds
from your ink-cracked lips
onto the bare bones of my
anatomy.

Unfold these moon-shy limbs
that chase silence
& beg stay-with-me.

For you are the only verse
hidden within this labyrinth
of scar-damaged flesh.

MeanderingHardly a mountain, though on lowering days its head sits wreathed
By the mists of a passing front, aged and befogged as bygone elders
Doddering about – before there were names for the malaise
That hazed their thinking
And from this modest crown there slouched and sloped
A long shoulder, meandering down to meadows below
Pausing now and again to coddle a pleasant hollow
Casting a sloping pitch – enough to rush a torrent
After a sudden shower
Seldom pooling
Its glint and glimmer burble among the stones
To join a rill and plash and swirl and putter about a root
It's there I'm apt to wander

Not much of a path, hard passed a

Follow MeI am death,
Glare into my eyes,
And prepare to die.
You have been living a lie,
Now you will have something to die for.
I'll get into your core,
The deepest part of you.
You will let me and I shall do,
So without any regrets.
I will haunt you every second, even in your sleep.
I will make sure you get no fucking peace.
It is the least,
I could do for you darling.
I'll get into your core,
The deepest part of you.
You will let me and I shall do,
So without any regrets.
My hidden beauty hypnotizes you,
And everyone else too.
So many tricks up my sleeve,
You wouldn't even believe,
Specially since you're too blind to see.
I'll get into your core,

August Lover,I want to wrap myself in your air,
hold your secrets between my
ribcage-embrace & just
breathe.

Snow White SyndromeI seem to have forgotten the sound of my own heartbeat
Splitting apart my limbs I've found the source of my insanity
Coiled around veins and arteries
Star dust and a lazy man’s drug
Has put me to sleep under fictitious pretenses
Of forbidden apples and two faced prince charming’s

Please (Don't) Hate MeIf I told you a lie
But it made you smile
Would it still be a sin?
If I opened the door
But turned you away
Would you still come in?

If I sliced my skin
But it didn't hurt
Would it still be wrong?
If I acted all brave
But couldn't face it
Would I still be strong?

If I tied my noose
Around a tree's open arms
Would it be an embrace?
If I left tonight
And begged you stay
Would you still give chase?

If I committed sin
But hurt nobody
Would I be welcome above?
If I do something you hate
But only for your good
Could it still be true love?

Animals In Love

Let’s move through the forest
And look at the creatures.
On the left, you’ll see the red eyed tree frog.
You’ll notice it conceals its
Brightly colored body parts
Unless it’s startled, giving some
Shock to predators.
You’ll notice how nice the frog is,
As if it would never want to hurt you.

Over here is the three-toed sloth.
These creatures move very slowly,
And sometimes don’t move for hours.
In fact, the sloth moves so slowly
That its body grows algae,
Which acts as camouflage.
Three-Toed sloths are also known
To never abandon you, no matter
How much you yell at it.

Over here we have quite a t

OverActive ImaginationLike verbal synesthesia,
snap
crackle
pop
in my head.
Words go

bang bang bang

and all I think are flashes.

Computer fans are white noise
and clicking keys a melody.
I sleep on piles of books
and tell myself bedtime stories
that never, ever end.
It's the same one, every night.
over
and over
and over
and over
and over.......
I edit, even in my head.

One color brings four hundred synonyms to mind
and the feeling of fabric is like a burst of light.
Looking at a photograph is often over whelming,
and all I want to do is know what
they were thinking,
not what I am.

It's a curse and

PulsateWhat is a heartbeat,
without the heart?
What is a dream,
without the conscience?
What is a word,
without the letters?
What is a hope,
without the faith?
What is a soul,
without the self?
What is a kiss,
without the love?

What am I,
without you?

Glass KissIn the dark of the night
We woke with the urge of a fire,
A flight of flee and retire
And escaped the clutches of fight.

I drown my dress and my cape
While you gather our things,
And before the morning birds could sing
We made our desperate escape.

As we ran through the dark
Dodging branches and vines
Your heartbeat was next to mine,
And the doubt between us began to mark.

But even as I clutched onto you
You felt cold as ice, hard as steel.
And though I didn't want my doubt to be true
The love that I felt wasn't r e a l..

I
I
I can't even feel your skin,
No matter what you're in
You never feel real

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More from ~nilla-bean

such a fragile thinghis fragile stratum of love are ready to break.

those were the daysdo you remember, love
when we were young

didn't have a care
for the world

the world was our oyster
everything was green

kisses beneath the
incandescent moonbeams

our hands would interlace
follow the rhythm of grace

do you remember, love
those were the days

when we were young
oh ooh oh ooh

when we were young
oh ooh oh ooh

young and stupid
and in love

many years past since
gone our separate ways

sometimes i sit
and reminiscence our days

and with every heartbreak
we grew wiser

we found new people
to love

when we were young
oh ooh oh ooh

when we were young
oh ooh oh ooh

like the seasons
things began to change

an

to be beautiful All my life I wanted to feel beautiful.

Mother always tells me I am, though now, I am wondering if she truly means it. You never once said I was beautiful, not even after I spent nearly an hour trying to put my sister's makeup on. Not that you'd notice.

You think the girls with the short skirts and best clothes, the ones who put the most makeup on are beautiful. The ones who'd do anything to get your attention. The ones who want to be your friends not because you're you, but because you're with them. Not me, your weirdo friend.

Only I am not beautiful; I am nothing like them. Nor will I ever

remember, lovei.
I wonder: if you looked back, would you remember? After all, I was never rich, never beautiful, or popular. I was just Sophie, a simple-minded, quiet girl that, once-upon-a-time, you were best friends with. The girl that, believe-it-or-not, you almost had your first kiss with (almost).That girl you snuggled with during preschool naps, the one who played with you during recess even when I infected you with cooties.

I wonder if you forgot. Then I wonder if any of that ever happened at all; for those eight amazing years of life, I could've been in a trance, or under a spell, or maybe my mind is playing a really good trick on me

sweet butterflies I never did forget the butterflies. We'd catch them in the garden, behind my yellow house. They were truly beautiful, flapping effortlessly, fluttering in unison. Blues, greens, even pinks—my eyes were blinded by the array of bright colors from the butterflies. We didn't have nets to catch them with, so we caught them with empty jam jars Mama lent me. We'd be lucky if we caught just one—that one special butterfly that never got away.

They'd fly, far, far away from us—and I'd think to myself, maybe the butterflies don't like us. Then, I knew why the butterflies were so willing, so desperate to fly away. They're free.

the pancake songpancake
oh pancake
why did I eat you?

i know i had to
but then again,
you looked so good tonight

smothered in butter
covered in syrup
crispy golden brown

I know I should wait till morning
But too late now, anyways

I ate you
you're in my tummy
yes, you were oh so so yummy

pancakes!
oh pancakes
pancakes
I love the way you taste.

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i am an artist.

by ~nilla-bean, Dec 20, 2012, 12:20:33 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

I may not have the best skills,
I may not be the most well known,
I may not have the most expensive materials
_{but —}

I am an artist.

i am an artist.by ~nilla-bean

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

©2012-2013 ~nilla-bean

_{Pretty much how I feel at the moment.}
I was always the type of person to overthink things, and worry too much about what other people thought about my artwork — and if it even is considered "art"... if there is a true definition of the world.

There will always be someone better than me but I shouldn't let that hinder me from stopping what I love to do.

~~mad 0 0~~

~~sad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

Mood: Optimism

~AugustFloKite Apr 7, 2013 Hobbyist Traditional Artist

That is very true. I feel happy that I'm not the only one.

Short, but excellent and inspiring.

Reply

~CinamonToastCrunch Jan 28, 2013 Hobbyist Digital Artist

so laconic, and that is the beauty of it. if I did this it would be 2 paragraphs of wanna-be Frost stuff. i applaud you.

Reply

!sorapuppy26 Dec 23, 2012 Hobbyist Traditional Artist

omg this is seriously something i should read whenever im down.... *-*

Reply

*Nekothebro Dec 21, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

this is fantastic!

I absolutely love it

Reply

*Juneriot Dec 21, 2012 Hobbyist Digital Artist

Looooove iiiiit~
Definitely front-page worthy, because we all need a little wake-up call like this every once in a while. ;D

Reply

Mood: Love

~Catgirl-Rin Dec 21, 2012 Hobbyist Artisan Crafter

Right on! Hold onto that and keep filling the world with joy and expression!

Reply

~EnthusiasticTomato Dec 21, 2012 Hobbyist Digital Artist

I agree!

Reply

~Krypta550Unari Dec 21, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

Oh the literature in the front page lately are really touching.
Dern it.

*mustmaintainego*

Reply

Mood: Love

~bellelarme Dec 21, 2012 Student Writer

so true.

i love it.

Reply

Mood: Awestruck

~shy67 Dec 21, 2012 Hobbyist Traditional Artist

100% True

Reply