[x]

The Softening of Soundi. I used to play with a drum kit of pots and pans, when I was younger and you weren't around yet. I imagined that each unsynchronized beat of the wooden slender sticks manipulated by my clumsy fingers were a symphony, a mixture of different voices in a multitude of pitches and volumes. I would try to recreate those miniature symphonies wherever I went, whether it be the drum of fingers against a tabletop or my bare, uncoordinated feet in the dew stained grass on may mornings. The presence of something more, something other, was as unaware in my eyes as it was in yours, for we might as well have been stationed on opposites sides of the earth.

a clinical send off.there was a time when i almost convinced myself you loved me; back when your kisses coated my tongue with heavy, bitter deflections, back when you nipped about my ankles and slowed my steps and determination with sour laughter like the rattling of chain links.

back when you wrapped yourself through my ribcage with greedy intent to tie up what veins you hadn't already snapped.

back when i wasn't afraid to say you, because i didn't know what you were (when i didn't yet fear the day you'd push your way past broken lips and thus become a reality).

but attachment differs greatly from affection, and sometimes i caught you clinging not out of des

Purge The SoulRifts of layered satin
move and cover whole
Overlapping limbs
and binding to the core
Struggling direction
as the rift provides more
Ways to turn and toss
and question
lessening the hold
Interwoven truths unbound
tethered to the sea
Currents carry taint away
simultaneously
let go of the handle
offered by the spout
Quench your thirst in rivers
clearing up the drought
Throw it all away
clothes cast upon the shore
'till ghostly skin is crystal clear
and find out you have more
~the purging of the soul~

blues boy of fiction.i want a blues-boy
with chicago ingrained
in his guitar string callouses
and the stems of quarter notes
for eyelashes.

i want a boy
who wouldn't dare
to call me
princess

who exhales enigmas
in his sleep
like i do

who knows where he's going
even behind
society's moral blindfold.

i want a boy borne of fiction
who knows what i mean
when i say his wrist is a wolf-joint
(i want a boy
who reads too much)

and who can explain
the obscure in my veins
when i can't.

i need a boy
with a touch that never hurts

with a brazen desire
to jump off bridges
into the sea
in the dark

with a loud heart
and a louder mind.

i need a boy

Delete things aren't simply
dry erase,

most times they
stain like
nail lacquer on
a satin bedspread.

if we are lucky,
they can fade
and dissolve
in a way
child chalk drawings
melt in the
summer rain.

i would give
anything
for a
magic eraser
to wash away

memories of you.

oxy morons in reverse.
there's still a carton of unopened cigarettes buried in your sock drawer.

----

"do you...do you want to help me sort through his things?"

your sister asked me with the air of someone who is finally relenting to the inevitable. her shoulders sagged and her head hung heavy in between her collarbones which stuck out like white arrows, two slight and brittle bone lines holding her thin frame together. i glanced across at her from the other side of the kitchen table, where i had sat to wait for your mother who was going to return some possession or other of mine i had left at your house. i don't recall what, but it must have been important, o

ForeverFleeting; the moments that pass, the song that ends, the after kiss, the last drag of your cigarette, the first sip of your coffee, once the car is turned off, the shades are pulled down, you blow out the candle, the last thing you see before you close your eyes, the wind that stops blowing, the world goes black. Every second. Gone Forever.

Impression; Every fleeting thing, the music ringing in your ear, the taste on your lips, the hum of a motor, the flutter of a heart, the tingle in your nose, the blackness against your lids, the wind licking your skin. Every second. Remains Forever.

Caffeinated JellyfishI'd trade my sweetened tea
for your stingray beliefs
but i know that even broken teacups
couldn't fill the cracks between your teeth;
the holes in your bones from all your
haphazard hopes and
lackluster lies;
i can't fill the void
of a rotten soul
that's been dipped
in too many ice cream cones.

and now, i am a
jellyfish.
my hopes are propellers.
i soar through starshine
with sea-stained wings.
i am dangerous.
i am a caffeinated jellyfish;
i've learned that hope only stings.

a stirring.
i can sense it stirring -
a lack of light within the center
of the chest in which muscles
contract, tightening to fill
a fluttering vacancy.
it runs over into the blood,
rousing the pulse
from its sleepy stupor and
coalescing into a taunt, hot web
of poison strings
inside the throat.

failure it cries
until the eyes blur
and breathing is the only remaining
necessity, the last and desperate

thought.

it lingers there, a poltergeist of
my repression in waiting
even beneath the pills,
latching on and digging deep
into each tender crevice
of every stagnant cell.

the underside of bones.i. what glow once kindled so astringent,
hot-coals beneath the feet
now pleads in the whispers
of a light desperate not to go out.
how quickly does the mind flip.
society's winds blow
and the blank stares and misconception blow
and she's stumbling around on bird legs
in the hurricane's aftermath,
keeping up a semblance of assurance
like she's expected to.

ii. and it's fine, she says,
it's fine, that light doesn't matter and
hasn't ever mattered, it wasn't
for the illumination but rather the knowledge
she was not alone in the dark.
but it's not fine
because somewhere in between
repressed thoughts and stifled sentiments
may

starstruck.
shooting star,
swindling light,
she who reigns within the sky,
of solar curves and nimbus touch
ether glance and astral blush,
of cryptic inception an essence divine,
tonight she flies over me.

i wish i may, perhaps i might,
come and steal me away tonight.

several empty teacups latermy mind
st-stutters

a dissonance
of partial thoughts
and conflict and collision in every
tempest corner
of concave obscurity
in my mentality.

i exude distraction:
a demeanor of nervous-habit fingertips,
restless eyes unable to fixate
and hummingbird heart
darting out of place

bare feet t-t-tapping
dolling the rhythm of impatience
an asymmetrical beat
of turbulent irresolution
littered through with discord.

i've bitten my fingernails down to the quick
and sank like doomed sailboats in cups of cold tea
and contemplated every
popcorn patterned roadway
spread out like a network of white spiderweb
on my ceiling

and ran mil

the sonnet and the breeze.she was a sonnet and he was a breeze
they both resembled their essence with ease
for the soul is expressed in the strangest of ways
and in all aspects their nature they conveyed

she was dulcet, and sonorous of mind
with treble clef skin and eighth note eyes
she danced on ballads and spoke in verse,
pulse singing in measures unrehearsed

he dwelt transient as all breezes do
wistful and fleeting, he roamed in pursuit
of all the unfathomed, but he never stayed long
before the sun's rising he would always be gone

they met in a clash of whisper and rhyme
(he breathed hello, she hummed a sigh)
and 'neath the morning they judged one ano

back alley nightmares.we slip down
streets uneven on
uncertain endeavors, streets
cast up like twisted spires
from the shadows
of our own private
abysmal and rolling waters.

untitled 01life writes stories on the skin;
told in blood and bone,
stamped across the body.

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A Girl and a Boy

I'm just a girl.
Not pure of mind or pearl of skin, nor with silk as hair or lips of red.
Not your princess in a tower- never lost to be found- always calm, always sure.
A girl with a story, but none to be heard.
Eyes of blue, waves of white- watching a puddle, blending with the sky.
You were just a boy.
A boy of thoughts and a boy of shadows, a boy- eyes dark as night.
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All angels seem unreachable, but this one lives among us.
A swam among ducks, but illuminating those living around her.
Untouchable, with harmony surrounding her like the heaviest of perfumes- you can almost see her pure wings of ivory folded behind her graceful body as you watch her move down the street. She's come this way several times before- why? Is it because of the musicians, who she seems to always have a dollar in her pocket for? Who she always stops to share a word with? It can't just be them.

So that's her name- Astrig. One of the street musicians just shouted it before proclaiming the making of a new song. She smiles and liste

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It starts as a quiet humming in the darkness- a disruption in the air, tense with expectation- only felt by those who start it.
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But there, there it starts. It all begins behind a closed door, in another realm without others to interrupt. He throws off his half-hearted doubts and restraining weights- a muted strum of an old acoustic guitar flees from his exploring fingertips.
Hesitantly, he tunes the guitar and strums three notes, building music where there was once nothing. Dim flashes of light fill the dark corners of

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In Our Hidden Worlds

by =EvelynTaliette, Aug 3, 2012, 1:13:26 PM
Literature / Prose / Fiction / Philosophy & Perspectives / Flash Fiction & Vignettes

A strong breeze blew through the garden, and petals and leaves swirled up from the ground like wayward confetti. For a moment the image resembled a spring snow globe; then the wind was gone, and the image shifted.
There was a figure walking towards you at the other end of the hidden garden, seemingly from nowhere. At first, a flash of anger filled you for someone to infiltrate your hiding place, your only sanctuary from the world- then sudden curiosity filled you as you realized it was a woman.
She walked with a type of grace that was unseen with most humans, each step seeming to awaken everything around her. The calm sun peeked through the shielding leaves overhead, dappling her pure white dress in sunlight and shadow. Morning glories and ivy twined up the still-standing stonework from decades past where she now trailed her fingertips, seeming to wonder who had once treasured this place. Poppies, roses, and all types of forgotten flowers seemed to reach out for her when she drew near- calling out for the soft light she seemed to emanate.
Was she an angel?
With this thought her vibrant blue eyes of the sky looked straight into yours, almost shocking you enough to fall off your veiled hiding place among the low branches of a small tree. Everything changed at that moment, everything negative had no more meaning; there was only beauty and light.
She stood only a quick reach before you, her bare feet strong but delicate beneath her white gown which moved with the wind. A soft smile lit up her pale face as she reached out an ethereal hand for you- just for you, in your dark corner amongst the now lit rest of the garden.
Without the slightest hint of hesitation, you closed your eyes and reached out your hand, wondering whether you would feel feathers or clouds. A circle of light enveloped your dark corner, filling you with weightlessness and the wonder of the easing of a pain you never even realized you had been burdened with.
Your hands reached nothing.
Before you stood the garden, now empty, with the sun setting beyond the brickwork.
You walked through the hidden garden which you will never visit again- eternal peace had been given.

In Our Hidden Worldsby =EvelynTaliette

Literature / Prose / Fiction / Philosophy & Perspectives / Flash Fiction & Vignettes

All that's lost shall be found, all that was once chained will be freed.

For =Wolvesmaycry 's contest about Fall. [link]

This isn't really the image I had in mind for this piece, though it's the only one I could find that I liked. It doesn't have the right mood, but the light is perfect. Keep in mind that it's NOT MINE and solely belongs to [link]

I'm not really sure how I feel about the title as well.

The Artist has requested Critique on this Artwork

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*Bri-Cx Sep 22, 2012 Writer

While this is an interesting work, I noticed quite a few grammar issues that you may want to work on.

"A strong breeze blew through the garden, and petals and leaves swirled up from the ground like wayward confetti."

It would probably be better written as: "A strong breeze blew petals and leaves up from the ground like confetti throughout the garden."

There are quite a few unnecessary commas and after rewording the sentence, you also get rid of unnecessary words like "swirled up" that are a bit repetitive and redundant.

"For a moment the image resembled a spring snow globe; then the wind was gone, and the image shifted."

Better: "The image resembled a spring snow globe for a moment, but then the wind was gone and the image shifted."

The semicolon should only be used to separate two ideas in one sentence. You had the right idea, but this sentence is written better as a whole idea.

"Poppies, roses, and all types of forgotten flowers seemed to reach out for her when she drew near- calling out for the soft light she seemed to emanate."

You should replace the hyphen with a comma. I noticed you also used hyphens in other unnecessary places. You should only use a hyphen when: someone is being cut off in dialogue, you are breaking away from one sentence to insert another idea and then another when you continue with the main sentence, and others that I can't really think of at the moment, but you can probably look it up online.

You also used a lot more commas than necessary, but this is a common mistake (I've done it plenty of times too). Try having someone else read your material too. It also helps to take a nice break and then go back and read what you wrote (a fresh eye helps you see what you didn't see before).

Good luck and hope that helped!

=EvelynTaliette Sep 22, 2012 Student Writer

Actually, those first two sentences were the prompt I was given out of one of the writing groups on DA and not of my choosing.

And hmm, thanks! I always tend to overuse hyphens and commas, a habit of mine that I really need to break. The fresh eye method is something I use often as well, sometimes letting my stories marinate for days before finally looking them over once again.
Thanks for reading!

*Bri-Cx Sep 22, 2012 Writer

Not a problem! And yes, that's how I edited my novel.

And whoever gave you those lines definitely needs grammar lessons...lol.

*lantern-rose Aug 7, 2012 Professional Writer

This was lovely. Filled with revelation of peace and beauty and solace. I feel the title is fitting, for it is in our hidden worlds we are chained and it is there we have to unchain them.
"everything negative had no more meaning; there was only beauty and light." I really really loved this line!

~cheshirekittty Aug 6, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

That was beautiful TT_TT. I certainly can't find anything wrong with it! You used a writing style that isn't used often, probably because it's so hard to do. But you did a great job! Kudos to you!

=EvelynTaliette Aug 6, 2012 Student Writer

Wow, thanks! This was a little hard to get the right feel of, but it managed to click in place eventually! Thanks for reading

~CelestialMemories Aug 3, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

_{This is a very beautiful piece! I don't feel like the title really emphasizes the beauty that is this piece.

First what I liked about it, is the setting, and the mystery of the character's point of view. Why was he hidden? Could be a variety of reasons really, but I enjoyed the ambiguity that you left.

The description of this mysterious woman was also what caught my eye, she speaks nothing but represents a lot. Her omniscient vision is powerful, how she could see you even if you are hidden.

The ending just really tied everything together, it was overwhelming how even if her presence was not touched, it left something lingering in the air, a calm and tranquil mood washing over both the character and the garden.

What a nice job!}

=EvelynTaliette Aug 4, 2012 Student Writer

Thanks!

Usually the first thing that comes to me with a piece is the title, but instead the easiest thing was the actual writing this time. I'm still not sure of a good title, but I suppose I'll stick with it for now.

I was thinking hidden from..scars, or something of the sort. The world hurt him, so he hid, maybe? I don't know, the story has a life of its own when it leaves the writers hands.

Thanks again for reading!

~Contradictory55 Aug 3, 2012 Student Writer

That's just really beautiful. The title really suits it well actually, because even though the touch was never received, there was a realization, no, revelation that something had gone, but something more had been given. A hidden something, that feeling of peace that's rather elusive, and it's all happening within a sanctuary that, once shared, is not a sanctuary again, because now, one has no need for a sanctuary.

It's beautiful!

=EvelynTaliette Aug 3, 2012 Student Writer

Thanks! It was a bit of inspired writing, since I saw a sentence and immediately got an idea that seemed to fit with the style. I'm glad the message I was going for was conveyed, because I had a bit of trouble with that. Thanks again for reading!

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