Smoking And Walking*You were smoking. *You threw it on the ground because *you were finished, and *you walked away. I looked at the cigarette. I looked at *you, walking away. Then I looked down at the cigarette once more. I bent down and I picked it up and put it in my mouth. I then ran to catch up with *you. *You asked, "What are you doing?" I said that I didn't know. We stared hard at each other, then continued to walk. Not saying a single word to each other. Just walking. Destination unknown.Smoking And Walking by PossumFan
Notebook writing 26Dearest *you, *you have become my muse. I know I shouldn't be writing about *you so much, but honey I can't help it. *You've become one of the dearest friends I could have. I love *you. I love *you. For everything *you are. For everything *you have become. I can't thank *you enough for what *you've given me. All I have to offer *you is myself, and if that's not enough, then darling have my heart. It was *yours from the beginning.Notebook writing 26 by PossumFan
Night pleasuresI could write about *you all day long... *Your smile, *your eyes, *your hands, *your lips, *your strange sense of humor. I want to, I really do... The way the daydreams come about so very suddenly. *You, with me. Me, with *you. In That way... Mm. Yes. Play it again for me, mind... Please.... Don't make me beg. There we go... Just like that... *Your arms wrapped around me, kissing me in various places... My forehead... My closed eyes, as they plead at *you to not stop doing what *you're doing... My lips that long for *your mouth on mine... And... There, yes please God there... More... Then we lie in each other's arms, relishing in the sweet, sultry moment of what just happened... What *you. Me. *We*. Just did... And oh what sweet daydreams they are, however raunchy I portray *you... *You always. Always. Satisfy the one need I have. That need is *you.Night pleasures by PossumFan
Bo.When Lindsay was born, Bo was there. Standing beside her mother, he was the first thing she ever saw. But he was not her father; her father stood on the other side.Bo. by Silver-cLaw
Bo was there until the very moment she died.
The sun shone bright through the windows of her pink-laden room. She loved pink. And black.
“Because Bo is black,” she’d told her parents.
Her imaginary friend, they soon concluded.
“Bo is all black,” she described one night as her father tucked her in, “His skin and his hair and everything. He doesn’t talk a lot.”
Her father frowned.
“He sounds scary.”
“He’s not,” she insisted.
Bo sat on the bed and said nothing.
Her father kissed her good night and turned out the light.
“Why can’t Dad see you?” she asked.
“Are you real?”
“Are you real?” he replied.
“How do you know?”
how to get drunk and not mean itfirst:how to get drunk and not mean it by allinthen
say you’re just looking to have fun.
don’t tell her about the last time this happened.
plan on staying away from beds and grabby hands.
plan on forgetting for once.
lay in bed anyway because you trust her.
debate if that’s wise.
contemplate the universe and what dying feels like.
decide it sounds like her laughter.
feel like dying.
let her hold you.
try to decide if you want to remember this tomorrow.
whisper into her mouth that you love her.
let her shakily toss it back.
lie to yourself.
say you’ll forget.
wake up with her in the other bed.
complain about the headache.
don’t complain about the lack of warmth.
she’ll ask if you remember last night.
be hurt when she does too.
write poetry about how you don’t care.
Current Residence: LA... For now...|
Favorite genre of music: Anything Indie (except Indie Rock), Classic Country, Classical
Favorite photographer: None.
Favorite style of art: Literature
Music player of choice: iPod touch
Favorite cartoon character: None.
Personal Quote: You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you. - Ray Bradbury
What I'm here on DA to do: Spill my heart, spill my mind, spill my soul to those willing and able to listen. To make friends. To read, and be read.