I'm here, sitting on the edge of my parent's couch, wondering where you've gone.
I see you everyday, and touch you all of the time, but that's not what I mean, but any stretch of the imagination.
I mean YOU. I keep wondering where you've run off to, what recess of your mind you're hiding in.
I'm clutching your shirt to my chest, and pressing it into my face to smell the you I fell in love with, the you that I need and beg for constantly.
Crooked smile, wicked laugh, bright and hopeful eyes.
I miss last November. I miss the rain, and the way it soaked into my clothes and you watched and laughed.
I guess I'm writing this, hoping that one
Maybe the reason I feel hollow half of the time
is because you're not with me?
Yeah, maybe.
For some reason, I don't feel like a complete human being
unless we're attached in some way.
Kissing or hugging
Hell, I'd take texting over silence any day
(Although I'd much rather have the real words whispered into my ear from your lips).
Every time I close my eyes
when I'm not with you
I imagine your lips on mine
or your arms encompassing me and holding me
making everything better.
Perhaps time really does make the heart grow fonder?
Maybe. For me, it really feels like someone's got my heart on a skewer
and only you can remove i
The first cut is the hardest.
After that, it all returns to me: The ecstasy, the thrill, the relief. All like a goddamn second nature.
I know I wasn't supposed to. Damn it, broke my stride, and I was doing so well.
I let the insanity build up, instead of tear it down. And this was the result.
It's like bag a of Lays: You never can make just one. There has to be several. I have to cut and slash and carve and bruise until I can't really feel my arm anymore.
I must be crazy.
He'll be disappointed in me. I let him down. I wonder how long I can hide the wounds until he sees them and asks me.
Maybe I'll cry in his arms. Most likely, I'll say
Heat the tip in a burning fire
and then take the needle;
Pierce it through my skin
and stitch a smile on my face.
Give me a reason to smile
Give me a reason to laugh.
Give me a reason to sing
Give me a reason to dance.
Loop by loop, sting by sting
soaked in antiseptic, a smile is stitched into me
with a string.
Sing to to me sweet melodies
that will wind me back to life,
and resonate through the cavity
where my heart should be.
Give me a reason to live
Give me a reason to love.
Give me a reason to not to fall apart
Give me a reason....
The blood runs down my chin
and tears claw at my eyes.
Take a needle, my dear love
St
Just Five More Minutes. by Amaris-of-the-Moon, literature
Literature
Just Five More Minutes.
Stressful days, stressful nights.
Art, work, Art, more art, more work.
Parents, college, work, art, writing, work.
Love, love, love, love.
Love.
So much stress, yet so much love.
The nights are reserved for passion, for tenderness.
Although sometimes the day's stresses
anxieties and pains
coat them in a black ash.
Somehow, the love always breaks through.
So young, yet so old;
wanting to take on the world, yet shut it away all in the same
instant.
Love.
Is that what keeps us going, my love?
Is that why we are still alive?
Sitting side by side,
the engine running; curfew hanging low above.
Tears tearing at each others' eyes.
I'm here, sitting on the edge of my parent's couch, wondering where you've gone.
I see you everyday, and touch you all of the time, but that's not what I mean, but any stretch of the imagination.
I mean YOU. I keep wondering where you've run off to, what recess of your mind you're hiding in.
I'm clutching your shirt to my chest, and pressing it into my face to smell the you I fell in love with, the you that I need and beg for constantly.
Crooked smile, wicked laugh, bright and hopeful eyes.
I miss last November. I miss the rain, and the way it soaked into my clothes and you watched and laughed.
I guess I'm writing this, hoping that one
Maybe the reason I feel hollow half of the time
is because you're not with me?
Yeah, maybe.
For some reason, I don't feel like a complete human being
unless we're attached in some way.
Kissing or hugging
Hell, I'd take texting over silence any day
(Although I'd much rather have the real words whispered into my ear from your lips).
Every time I close my eyes
when I'm not with you
I imagine your lips on mine
or your arms encompassing me and holding me
making everything better.
Perhaps time really does make the heart grow fonder?
Maybe. For me, it really feels like someone's got my heart on a skewer
and only you can remove i
The first cut is the hardest.
After that, it all returns to me: The ecstasy, the thrill, the relief. All like a goddamn second nature.
I know I wasn't supposed to. Damn it, broke my stride, and I was doing so well.
I let the insanity build up, instead of tear it down. And this was the result.
It's like bag a of Lays: You never can make just one. There has to be several. I have to cut and slash and carve and bruise until I can't really feel my arm anymore.
I must be crazy.
He'll be disappointed in me. I let him down. I wonder how long I can hide the wounds until he sees them and asks me.
Maybe I'll cry in his arms. Most likely, I'll say
Heat the tip in a burning fire
and then take the needle;
Pierce it through my skin
and stitch a smile on my face.
Give me a reason to smile
Give me a reason to laugh.
Give me a reason to sing
Give me a reason to dance.
Loop by loop, sting by sting
soaked in antiseptic, a smile is stitched into me
with a string.
Sing to to me sweet melodies
that will wind me back to life,
and resonate through the cavity
where my heart should be.
Give me a reason to live
Give me a reason to love.
Give me a reason to not to fall apart
Give me a reason....
The blood runs down my chin
and tears claw at my eyes.
Take a needle, my dear love
St
Just Five More Minutes. by Amaris-of-the-Moon, literature
Literature
Just Five More Minutes.
Stressful days, stressful nights.
Art, work, Art, more art, more work.
Parents, college, work, art, writing, work.
Love, love, love, love.
Love.
So much stress, yet so much love.
The nights are reserved for passion, for tenderness.
Although sometimes the day's stresses
anxieties and pains
coat them in a black ash.
Somehow, the love always breaks through.
So young, yet so old;
wanting to take on the world, yet shut it away all in the same
instant.
Love.
Is that what keeps us going, my love?
Is that why we are still alive?
Sitting side by side,
the engine running; curfew hanging low above.
Tears tearing at each others' eyes.
Heat the tip in a burning fire
and then take the needle;
Pierce it through my skin
and stitch a smile on my face.
Give me a reason to smile
Give me a reason to laugh.
Give me a reason to sing
Give me a reason to dance.
Loop by loop, sting by sting
soaked in antiseptic, a smile is stitched into me
with a string.
Sing to to me sweet melodies
that will wind me back to life,
and resonate through the cavity
where my heart should be.
Give me a reason to live
Give me a reason to love.
Give me a reason to not to fall apart
Give me a reason....
The blood runs down my chin
and tears claw at my eyes.
Take a needle, my dear love
St
Hello, and welcome to my page. I am a novelist by profession, artist by hobby. I would do it professionally, but right now my comics career is on hold due to a few personal issues. I'm currently working on two different novels; one about losing the love of your life and trying to recover, and the other is a psychological thriller. The latter is also on hold due to said personal issues, but after the former is finished, I will most definitely return to it.
I finished High School in 2010, and do not intend to go on to college. Not that I can't, I just choose not to.
Please, enjoy my gallery. =)
Current Residence: California. Favourite genre of music: Electronica Favourite style of art: A nice marriage of manga and reality. Operating System: Mac. So done with PCs. Forever. MP3 player of choice: iTouch :D Shell of choice: Uh, shotgun? Wallpaper of choice: I haz my Dreamland wallpaper :3 Skin of choice: the one I walk in.... Personal Quote: Fuckin' A....
I'll be honest. I'm not as happy as I'd like to be. Partially because I'm pretty sure I lost my best friend. And that sucks.
Not only did I lose my best friend, but I probably lost a webcomic that meant the world to me, and that I was SO excited for and SO proud of. Why? Because my co-artist probably hates me now.
I realize I'm not such a great artist. But I was so ready to make a beautiful webcomic. I didn't care if it wasn't the most beautiful webcomic in the whole goddamn world. I just wanted to draw and create that comic, because it made me happy.
And it sucks. Even though I tried my hardest to tuck my emotions away, it didn't make a d
Yeah, I've decided to pick up the pencil (tablet pen and ink pen, etc) again. I'm slightly scared. Not like two weeks is going to sabotage everything I know about drawing, I know, but still, I'm slightly afraid.
Blah. I hurt my leg, so I've been off work for the past couple of days. It sucks, because I really wanted to go back to work today, but I woke up this morning at 4:30 with my muscles spasming like crazy. Ugh.
I think I'm going to be okay. My stomach's been in a knot recently, and it doesn't seem likely to fade anytime soon, so eating is a rare thing for me now. I'm losing a lot of weight because of it. I guess that's good. My emotio
I'm doing okay. Crying everyday, but still being strong.
That is all. Oh, and I'm looking for a roommate; I can contribute $600 a month. Anyone interested?
Oh, and look, I've been on dA for three years! Whoo.
Peace out, a longer update to come tomorrow.
:)
-~Amaris-of-the-Moon (https://www.deviantart.com/amaris-of-the-moon)