rave in a graveyard
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fingerprints upon the mantleThe dust settled softly in the worn out pages of the diary revealing semi-intelligible words scribbled over the yellowed and frayed paper. Red locks that tumbled in tresses down paled and weathered cheeks, brush against your own flushed ones. A voice whispers in your ear, it is hot and warm. "Read it, reveal the secrets of the past" it says in a voice that cause goosebumps of fright and excitement to flower across your arms and neck. You tremble with anticipation and force your eyes to read in the dim light. *my baby girl was perfect, she had clear blue eyes, pale white skin that was as smooth as the surface of a river stone, and light blondefingerprints upon the mantle
by ~heart-has-stories
sweetness that lingersThe cold night air consumed us like a smothering blanket, damp yet reassuring. We walked side by side, sometimes in a comfortable silence. I looked at you in the dim light of the street lamp and a smile played on my lips. Your playful smile caught my heart and caused it to pause in mid beat. Your arm brushed against mine and a slight tingle found its way down my side into the pit of my stomach. Your foolish antics entertained me on our walk home. Your shy clumsiness cause you to stumble, bringing tears of laughter to my eyes. 'Stop being an idiot' i say with mock anger in my voice. We round the corner, and my house comes into view.sweetness that lingers
by ~heart-has-stories
ME2by ~heart-has-stories
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the weeds across the street.She’s the little girl with flaxen curls at four pm flouncing down her driveway with her hands buried in her pockets, lips pressed out like she’s whistling. You’ll watch her out your window, with your tea lukewarm on the sill, and splutter a cough; fogging up the glass just enough to miss her smile.the weeds across the street.
You saw her once, twice eating petals off the roses in your garden. You’ve forgotten how to converse with children, you cussed between the wheezing and she stared right past like you were simply a knurled twig catching the wind in its leaves.
One morning you found her; purple stockings, blush mittens a
by =Pretty-As-A-Picture
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Orgasm and a half
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