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Una carta que comienza por una promesa incierta.
Ya el atadecer cae en nuestra parte del continente, y puedo verte a través de espejos y mares, de reflejos y de señales. El viento me permite gritar sin el usual miedo a ser visto, a ser escuchado por oídos que no nos pertenecen.
"Amada, te extraño".
Y no puedo dejar el loco deseo de verte otra vez. Dentro de mi, una cólera, una ira injustificada nace en contra de la distancia. La pobre no reconoce sentimientos, y nos ha alejado y privado de aquello que inunda nuestra mente.
Te anhelo y exclamo tu nombre entre ríos y montañas de metal, entre ceros y unos escribo aquello que mi corazón no puede dejar dentro de sí. Y no dejo de extrañar tu voz, tu mirada que me desarma, y me deja vulnerable a todo aquello que jamás pensé volver a sentir.
"Amada, te necesito".
Nada puedo hacer. Hasta que el primer rayo del Sol complete el espacio vacío extendi
I RememberTengo que escribir esto, pues temo que si dejo pasar mucho más tiempo, terminará siendo algo que me hará daño.
Probablemente ella nunca quiera tocar el tema, pero la verdad es que me odia. Quizás, si tú la conoces, probablemente ni te comente de mi existencia. Pero creo que hay algo que debes saber, y es que ella nunca ha escuchado esto. Mejor dicho, jamás ha leído esto, proveniente de mi.
Ella es una persona maravillosa, en verdad. Es quizás una de las pocas personas que conozco que tiene una forma de ser única, tan suya y tan perfecta en su rol, que con ella aplica esa frase de 'no encontrarás en un millón de personas a alguien como ella'. Quizás y ni siquiera exista ese dicho, pero si captas la idea, bien. Ella debe de tener unos ojos con los cuales te conmueve hasta la espina dorsal. En verdad, siendo yo alguien tan frío últimamente, más de una vez caí ante ella.
Gold DustSon sus ojos, y son los mapas sobre su espalda. Ya nada puedo hacer al respecto.
La gran América, Columbia, es decir, ella en su esplendor. Su forma pura de mujer y monumento.
Es en las lagunas de sus ojos, un mar entero de color miel, que me he perdido. Sin rumbo, con el viendo del norte y el eco del pasado ya escrito.
El frío desierto de mi piel que hace tiempo ya clamaba su nombre entre valles y bosques. Nos encontramos con los ojos ciegos.
Ella, la gran tierra perdida, cuyos paisajes eran desconocidos para muchos, pero sus marcas, las pisadas en sus arenas me dijeron lo contrario.
Ella, la bella impresión de un horizonte, de piel blanca como las nubes en Idaho. El horizonte de sus brazos como la puesta del Sol en las carreteras de Alabama. Ella, con su rostro frío junto al mío, como las noches en Arizona. Así fue como la conocí, perdido en la inmensidad de lo que dejé atrás.
En los rincones más remotos de nuestro destino, detrás de las montañas.
Nuestras palabras, nuestros secretos
Truth Does HurtMe duele observar. Observar que poco a poco te fuiste distanciando de la ilusión que tan vivamente me llenó. Cuando mi corazón estuvo más vulnerable, no lo supiste comprender.
Me duele recordar. Recordar que con cada día que pasa, nunca podré llamar tu atención. Aquellas inútiles caricias no podrán rozar tus mejillas, y sin importar la fuerza de mi voz, tus oídos ya sordos se encuentran lejos de mí.
Me duele admitir. Admitir que mi historia no está a destinada a ser como la tuya. La suerte me llevó por un mal camino, y aunque he aprendido a vivir con ello, el daño ya está hecho.
Me duele saber. Saber que de todas las personas en este planeta, tú estás a la distancia. Y nada sería lo mismo si estuvieras esta tarde a mi lado.
Ya no sé que más hacer. Mis ojos están cansados de las incontables veces que han visto un reflejo llorar.
Long Distance NightsI've lost the notions that brought me to this place.
Could I wake up right beside you? Well, could I?
The night's still young. The breeze's ever so inviting,
And I left my future burning up in my motel room.
The scenery changed.
A panorama of neon lights became salvation to me.
No blur could be dense enough for my lungs.
I was no longer a stranger.
With our resilient eyes, we went back to square one.
Now your red dress makes you look well-manered.
How would you have guessed, by this so-called voice of mine,
That you'd ended up this way?
Morning comes, with a heavy load in my chest.
Here's your hope and the change in my pocket.
You can go back to live, to hope and to redeem yourself,
While I'll wait for the telephone to ring once again.
While I lie once again to the other side of myself.
Everything and NothingHace años que no me observo en el espejo,
por temor a recordar lo que por enojo decidí.
Hace meses que me dicen que circule por aquellos rumbos,
sin saber que mi camino se desvió por falta de comprensión.
Miré al cielo, esperanzado.
Intenté buscar nubes sobre el vacío,
intenté tocar el cielo con el último de mis alientos.
Este lugar ya no me da miedo desde hace 2 semanas.
Hace días que escucho ecos dentro de mi corazón,
y sin embargo, él nunca se alejó por decisión mía.
Ya hace un par de horas que descolgué el reloj de la pared.
Añoro los días en los que me sentía humano, imperfecto.
Añoro los momentos que 'amor' aún tenía un significado.
Las nubes regresan.
El corazón calla.
El camino se desvía.
Su carta está en la entrada de mi hogar.
Nos miramos al espejo.
Nos hacemos llamar 'el recuento de los daños'.
Y aún así, todavía no es tarde.
When You FallPermaneciste sentada. No dejaste de ver hacia el horizonte, que parecía abrazarte con tanta facilidad, tan frágil y tan dulcemente a su vez.
Notaste que estaba detrás, aunque preferiste seguir ocultando el color bronce de tus ojos bajo el carmesí de tu cabello. Esperaste a que tu mano reconociera la mía, y dejaste que una energía intensa se apoderara de ti.
La semana anterior habías ido a visitarme, y a pesar de que en tu mente los fantasmas de noches sin poder dormir, lograste llegar a mi pórtico, donde sólo dejaste un sobre con una llave y una nota con escritura indecisamente honesta.
Dirijiste hacia mi tu mirada, y sólo hasta ese entonces, desde aquella tarde del '92 en la que comenzó todo, volviste a sonreirme y a cautivarme bajo el reflejo de la puesta del Sol.
-No pensé que estuvieras listo-.
-No lo estoy-.
Y esa sonrisa fue eterna. Arrojaste la llave al abismo que se manifestaba delante de nosotros, y juraste ver aquell
Columna de PlataDistante amor:
Hoy te escribo para hacerte saber que el viento me entregó las palabras que con seguridad dejaste en sus delicadas ramas, y seguras entre las hojas que cubren lo bello de tu voz. Parecían colores que revoloteaban y jugaban con mis sentidos, como niños alegres entre las gotas de lluvia, y luego se convirtieron en un retrato perfecto de tus cabellos, tus ojos de puesta del Sol, y esa voz que tan celosamente protegía dentro de mi ser.
Me hiciste recordar las olas del mar y mucho más. Me hiciste escuchar de nuevo los sonidos del silencio, y las caricias que tan dulcemente capturaron tu belleza en mis ojos. Bellas nubes que transitaban, intentado formar las figuras que ambos ya sabíamos que formarían, pero aún así no importaban, pues estaba cautivado por todo lo acontecido.
Y a mi mente vino el álamo blanco y las ráfagas del Otoño, que inundaron de felicidad los recuerdos de nuestro último mes juntos. Aquel mome
DiasHe maltratado al amor.
He usado su nombre sin permiso,
Sabiendo que las palabras no llenan su presencia.
He requerido de su auxilio,
Aún cuando me encuentro atado al suelo.
Lo ignoré, y a veces lo desprecié.
Y más de mil veces, juré en vano por su nombre.
Ahora en verdad me doy cuenta,
Que por mi tonto egoismo,
Me he robado lo mejor de su escencia.
He maltratado al amor.
Harvest HomesShe says, you can tell America from the rest of the world by the color of the wallpaper, or lack thereof. That Southern hospitality is refreshing after so many years in London. The stuffed animal that sits on her table is named Dog, and if you ask her why, she’ll ask you if you’re blind. It is a dog after all.
When the Aid handed her a night gown she wanted to know if it was for sale. When he told her it was a gift, she couldn’t accept it, but if he wanted to loan it to her that would be lovely. The Aid was actually a woman and when we told her so she replied, “Well, she was a man when he gave it to me”. We all laughed and she said, “Oh lovely then” and laughed with us while clapping her hands.
Needless to say, I liked her almost immediately; so lively and spirited, and what a sense of humor. I can’t tell you how old she is, any age beyond eighty will do. I can’t tell you how crazy she is, but I imagine only a little, perhaps a touc
I will. (warning for prose,but mostly description)I.
I will rouse myself from casket mornings, and I will flex the 11 (or was it 12?) muscles in my mouth to form a smile—however painful. I will keep it there… because kindness bandages wounds in the best of ways. I will sip the horizon from my coffee, while weaving fairytales—without ever thinking that I’ve not the innocence anymore… because I’ll make it not matter. I will.
And I will forget him. I will… because ghosts only appear if you look at them, and he’s loved my nightmares—my tears—long enough. And because I’ve haunted myself long enough.
I will allow myself to feel human again, because I’ll remember that rain rids filth, but I’ll try to keep myself wishing less for forgetting-tsunamis… less for escapes just because of prints engrained in roots and soul. So I’ll forget his fingers straying past my heart—the way muscles seized, and cardiac arrest knew betrayal—and the way
Innocent Victim Chapter 7"What?!" was all that I could choke out. Titanic mated with Lusitania and had shiplings?! Why had she not told us?! Of course, he knew the answer to that; they would've forced her to be rid of the shiplings and she would've been punished hard, maybe even scrapped. Maybe it was for her own good. he thought.
Mauretania just continued to talk, "Please don't tell anyone! If anyone finds out their half-liners, and especially from Cunard and White Star, they'll be killed! And I'll be killed too, for protecting them and hiding the secret! Please, you have to promise me you won't tell anyone unless it's Olympic!" she begged.
Britannic was quiet for a moment, thinking. Why should he help her? All she had done her entire life was dis his line and attack his most respected sister with harsh words and actions. But that didn't make it right to where he would tell the whole world and get not only Mauretania killed, but two shiplings that didn't deserve it.
He hesitated and sigh,
Rant.If anybody here works at Google, DA, Bing, whatever. I want you to see if you can make this happen. Get pony filters on the search engines. Why? Because I'm going to tell ya.
Couple days ago I was looking up a toaster on Google and 5 My Little Pony pictures came up with no toasters in it. What. The Fuck. This is one of the reasons why I hate My Little Pony. When I search something that doesn't have anything to do with MLP, it somehow magically turns up. I'm not even joking. It's stupid. They should add a filter to those search sites so if I want to search something, there shouldn't be ponies in it. Except if I actually type in the search engine "My Little Pony" or "ponies". If I type anything else, it should not appear. When I search dinosaurs, my little pony shows up as some of the results. I don't know why! Dinosaurs can eat those ponies but I bet they would vomit from the taste afterwards! More then half of the pony franchise is in random stuff that I type up, in ads, or in the fanb
Wife's Resting Feet (The Story)I went and di my shopping for her and my Sons. Now being unemployed for two years and FINALLY getting a part-time job on the weekends I tried to make it as enjoyable for them after bills and such were paid.
So I came Home and I liked what I got them so as I snuck the gifts to the basement I came up, got a cup of coffee and my Wife said she was going to her work to have a meeting with her Supervisor, finish up some Nursing work then go to the grocery store and come Home.
So while she was gone I straightened up the House, played catch and fetch with the Puppy and did a load of laundry, yea I know boring so let's get the good schtuff.
I went into the bathroom to wash my hands and on the sink counter I saw a small, white, facial, rotating brush that I bought her for her Birthday. I turned it on and the rotation was very slow and the bristles were extraordinarily soft. I ran it on my wrist and it gave a unique but effective tickling effect. So I got this idea," use it on her feet instead
Sound of Vengeance Chapter 2Iowa had not yet left the spot he had rested in since the day Yorktown left. As his siblings played with their kin carriers, he sat and stared out to sea. He was the oldest of the four, his radio tower was already done being formed and he was 80 feet long. Just a bit more maturity and he would be ready to join the Navy and take the fight to the Japanese!
As he watched, with his battleship sight that could show the smallest details on a ship from 16 miles away, as far as his turrets would aim, he noticed a small black dot on the horizon. It was a carrier, familiar in shape, and it was speeding towards the harbor at full speed. As the carrier got into his sights better, he smiled. "Mom's home!" he cheered and dashed forward to greet her.
At the sound of their mother being called, Missouri, New Jersey and Wisconsin looked up. With grins on their faces, all raced forward to meet Yorktown. The carrier yelped with surprise as the four shiplings jumped onto her and hugged her. Iowa was the fi
UnlovedHave you ever been afraid of being alone forever? Felt that sudden grip on your heart when you think about the future? Or how unlikable you are or might be to the desired sex? Sometimes I feel that. But I'm not necessarily afraid of being without someone I love- It's more like I'm afraid of pushing people so far away- of being so unfeeling- that I become unlovable.
I don't want to be that old lady who's eating lunch alone in a restaurant, with no wedding ring- no signs of people who love her- nothing but herself lost amongst the sea of jubilant, vibrant people. I'm lost. I'm scared. I'm angry. I'm a monster.
I don't know how to fix myself.
I don't know how to be who I want to be.
I don't know how to be the right person.
DDl23: That Is Not Better
DDL23: That Is Not Better
"Where are we going?" surge asked, grumpily, straining as he tried to look up, at Suspiciary, who held him over his shoulder. Suspiciary just smiled, looking out, beyond the horizon. The sun had risen. He could feel the heat of the asphalt beneath him against his feet. The morning fog was clearing, and birds were darting through the sky. He tilted his head a bit, cocking it to the left, and looking at Surge, who lay over his right shoulder, causing him to tilt to the right, a bit, as he walked. He smirked, inquisitive.
"Is that so important to you?" He asked, turning, and refocusing his gaze on the horizon, smiling. "Just wait, and you will see." Surge sighed.
"This is not ideal." he stated.
"Not ideal?" Suspiciary questioned, with interest. Surge looked up, at the back of his head. The blood was rushing to his head from being dangled, upsidown, like a rag doll. All he could see was the road passing beneath him. The sun illuminated it, and shone on it as it li
Wife's Nighty Feet (The Story)First I want to take the time and thank everyone who faved and likes to read the recap of all the photos I take and story behind them. *THANK YOU*
We had a gift card to a Longhorn steakhouse restaurant so my Wife, my two Sons and myself went to dinner. We ate, came home and she immediately put on her red jammies with the little black designs on and she had on her black socks with the argyle design on the top part of the sock.
She went in our bedroom to lay down and watch TV and she shut off the ceiling light and put on the lamp on the bed stand next to her.
I waited, got my cell, and walked in like I was looking for something and then I shut the door and put on the light. She knew what was coming next and she practically begged me for no photos however I reminded her that she still owed me a few so she finally gave in and she let me rest her ankles over the bed spread and cover them with the pillow.
I then slowly removed each sock, one at a time, and I was surprised she didn't protest
If I Can See You Again......I would let you know,
That I still think about you.
That your smile has been in my mind all along.
You're the reason why I wanted to get upon early in the morning, the person behind all my ambitions...behind all my achievements.
I know. 20 years have passed since that day. I have counted them since that cold afternoon. And don't you think I have forgotten about how you looked that day.
I was so proud to be there with you...Together.
Listen to me in this moment. Old. Predictable. Alone. Imperfect. All those words doesn't mather to me now. Do you even know who am I to you?
I feel so sad when I look now to you. That dusty old wheelchair is not what you deserve. The sickness that now resides in your body is unfair. I cry for your loneliness, for your wrinkles, for your disease...For everything that you lost because of me.
And believe me, I try my best to not fall to the ground in tears. Excuse me, it's just all these feelings I have to hold on inside me, because today,
Leaving Southampton She was in the kitchen when he stumbled in noisily, tripping as he went past the shelves and catching the edge of the table to keep himself from falling.
Pretending not to hear the stream of curses that followed, she kept her eyes fixed on the dishes, letting her hand trail in the soapy water. There was a loud scraping of wood against grimy concrete as he drew a chair and collapsed into it. At this she looked up, and after a moment's hesitation, she said, unnecessarily, "You've been drinking."
He clutched his head and said nothing. He hadn't shaved in weeks and stank of sweat and alcohol; he looked much older than his eighteen years.
They sat in silence for a while. Then he announced, loudly, "Fuck."
She didn't bother to tell him off. She just waited. And jumped when he suddenly brought his fist down, hard, onto the table.
"Our lives here are s
Our DutyWe swallowed the path home
Because we were hungry,
Though starving is an ongoing
Story, an empty bag
Dancing in the streets,
Full of an unfastened voice
Walking through the house,
Wind unchained, heart admonished.
Heaven fills its eyes, crawls away,
That sleeping boat content to follow
The vacant waves, intervals
Of dying that we dare not interrupt,
And we watch the kind ear shrinking
From our charcoal docks; heaven
With a full stomach crawls away.
This is what we were put here for.
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More