Current Residence: Mikaville|
Favourite genre of music: Rock. D:
Favourite style of art: Unique
Shell of choice: CRAB.
Skin of choice: MINE OWN. :3
fall asleep with me tonight.If I wrote you a lullaby with verses of moonlit, fogged breath and a chorus of heartbeats- would you fall asleep with our melody in your palms?fall asleep with me tonight. by Pretty-As-A-Picture
I lie awake at night and watch traffic lights outside my window shout RED into the peace quiet and occasional hazy rev of traffic. I lie awake and shiver through layers and wish to silent stars it wasnt winter, wish the nighttime cool wouldnt paint quite so many goose bumps on my skin and make my eyelids so cold. I lie awake at night and night-dream without sleep- about you and all your eyelashes and beautiful wordings.
I like the way your collarbone lies horizontally beneath your neck, resting on light shoulders. God must have hidden it beneath your peach skin in a hurry, because with hurried hands he didnt push it in quite far enough. I imagine him assembling you, I envisage your organs and elongated limbs before you were in a single piece, a mess-heap of portions and parts of beautiful. I would have liked to build you up my
sleep-talk.sleep-talk. by Pretty-As-A-Picture
isnt it curious how your fingers fit perfectly between each of my sclerous ribs, or how your breath mimics mine with belated accuracy
(count each breath and youll run out of fingers.)
dont you remember the fairytales?
(and they both lived happily ever after, until after ran out and the monogamy became as non-existent as the magic.)
you were never one for myths. with discerning eyes, youd plant kisses along the ridges of my back
across my shoulders
and the hollow beneath my jaw, questioning my pastel skin and every involuntary blink.
I am not a myth. Id breathe.
Even when my back wore naught but jutting wing bones, a street of s
pretty boys break hearts.sometimes I think Im just a mess of badly drawn lines. Im just scrawled veins beneath paper rough skin, I wear poorly sketched scars on my thighs [skin deep red pen lines] and even my smile is lop-sided- but he never seemed to notice.pretty boys break hearts. by Pretty-As-A-Picture
my skin [spread like thick icing over my skeleton] is a monotonous pattern of pores, a stretch of the world the sun never kissed. I cant see the beauty in multitudes of freckles and chipped fingernails- but he does.
why do you love me?
you make me happy.
I never could figure out just how. was it my illegible love notes, or the tiny hearts I drew into his bare back with my fingertips? was it the filth on my knees or the way I named every bowing flower in my garden? maybe it was the way I sewed the stars to the navy sky and told him in a little, little voice-that I loved him.
either way he made my heart skip beats and bumps and bangs and he made me feel beautiful, a little