Ave Stella Maris et Regina CaelorumHail Mary, full of grace-Ave Stella Maris et Regina Caelorum by AndreaHarper
I'm sorry. I don't remember the rest.
Maybe if I did then the idea of prayer wouldn't feel so much like begging.
The lessons I am told you mean to teach are not the lessons I have learned, and I do not think I was meant to be a martyr.
I have always dealt with my problems by building towers in my head to hide from them in, castles in the air that solve nothing and do not hinder anyone but myself. I am not brave. I am not kind. And I have been hurt so often that I do not think anyone will ever love me, because while broken things are beautiful, I have never been anything more than passably pretty since I was just walking, and there is not enough left of me to hold anything more than indifference. I have never loved easily, and I have never been loved by someone who was not obligated by blood to do so, and I do not know which one broke me first.
Once upon a time there was a little mermaid who dreamt of a soul of her own, and lost everything for it. Disney offere
Signs and SymbolsYou ask me questions;Signs and Symbols by EMort
Perfect words, with cruel intent,
Sent to make me blush.
But I return to sender.
We laugh, we to and fro
and sit in quiet moments,
with our fingers interlaced.
And just before you flush with awkwardness,
and your pale skin betrays all;
You lean in and blind me,
With your supple lip.
Farmer's tans and moonbootsTo a hardworking father, who loved his family like he loved to take off his shirt in the summer for fear of ... a farmer's tan.Farmer's tans and moonboots by MekaMouse
To a loving daughter who misses her father like she misses thunder showers on the back porch with dad.
To a crying mother who wishes for sun, while watching the weather channel like a loyal fan.
To a strong son who breathes every b r e a t h with a little bit of guilt and sadness because he knows it is one b r e a t h his father never got to take.
To a young daughter who is in public school now, making more friends then her sister can keep track of... Who is the strongest redhead a crying mother can ask for.
To an amazing friend who never left the daughter's side for weeks after tragedy struck her friend's heart.
To a wonderful boyfriend who watches carefully as each w a v e and blow of sadness to his girlfriend's heart wears her
like the ocean does to a rock, he's watching her glass heart become sand faster than he can hold her together.
To some hardw
How to kill a writerInk on a blank sheet, suck dry a bodyHow to kill a writer by Trante
through the pen sitting between a finger
and an open vein, he won't last longer
than the emptiness written about she.
Words to enlighten the path leading your
spark to the edge of the world, it's futile
when you're already falling, it's obscure.
we're losing him.
Paper to walk on like a white tile
ready to be broken by many she.
It's too late.
Used to live but forgot when he
It's too late,
SickSick by nozomigakanau
She laid, a cold sweat over her exposed skin, on a bed she didn't remember making that morning. In fact, the ill girl didn't remember purchasing the bed or painting the walls that soft peach color or putting the linen pillowcases on the pillows she had never laid her head on before.
Therefore, she could only assume that this was not her room. While usually this would be a problem but there was a fever and, although it had just broken, her mind was still muddled. The fever had probably gone due to the cool, barely dampened cloth on her forehead and, as her head turned to look at the bedside table, the half-drank glass of water, vitamins and liquid medications.
But who would do this?
Her brain was still sluggish but she knew there were few people who would care. What had happened? One moment she had been waiting for him and talking to a classmate. The rest of it was a blur of fever and cool, someone petting that cloth over her face. A low voice, an oddly familiar voice.
But she was alone
I went and saw WALL-E just before I had this done, so of course I was laughing my head off when the robot was drawing this. Surprisingly enough, I look really, really evil, and you can't see my glasses at all.|
Current Residence: 12 miles north of Nowhere.
deviantWEAR sizing preference: Medium
Operating System: Windows XP, finally.
Shell of choice: Scallop shell! Yeee!
Wallpaper of choice: The one that's on my wall, with the askew turtle.
Skin of choice: Um, mine? I like how I look.
Personal Quote: And he had them all thrown into the sea and drowned!