dancinginferno

If I could take sweet breath again, wade spent through murky depths of shadows sinking, silent 'neath swollen seas of my own dear lament, just if the Fates would pause and part away, Then surging blazing light would fly as I soar to the shining sky of vast expanse, and watch intensity in my mind's eye: the limitless, immortal Psyche's dance – And then perhaps I'd take once more the chance of day; the realm of possibility that floats among our dreams at night: a glance, a glimpse of our own pure futility. Yet tides come in, returning to their place and I will but yield to their cold embrace.

and she wishes there were a button like ctrl alt delete – that could take away the day by day fascination of the obsolete perhaps it could be as easy as a simple click a blink or two – ... a wish upon a star ? a cleaner slate – a new fresh start, it does not sound as great as they all say for all new things no matter how shiny or sparkling never really begin pasts have been spun long before you and i have ever begun – this she knows all too well and yet it seems quite simple ctrl alt delete. if only perhaps ... she ctrl v'd it – it might just then work.

it is as if i watch from the silent, unforgiving corners and crevices that separate me from you * i stumble and i can not help but look back and i sometimes wish that you could too * please, don't forget to keep those promises please, don't forget to dream of a future don't forget - i'm waiting. * i'd like to fly to neverland where all things are ... simply sparkling * with you.

He sees her on a rainy day, when she is not looking. Her eyes are blue and her hair is red and her frown, he thinks, does not quite suit her. It wasn’t so much her prettiness that caught him, nor her bright, bright hair. She has a white umbrella. It is quite simple and it is quite plain but it is an umbrella (something that he forgot). Everything else just rushes up in the masses like all the stars in the sky as he just happens to notice that her long, slim hands fingering something hanging round her pale, slender throat and a lock of hair just curls adorably, settling on the side of her face as she turns (and that he really has been sta

* she likes to think about the rainy days. and the sunny nights. * when she writes, she likes to write of love that has the wrong beginnings. and really, no endings. it makes everything so much more romantic. * and when it begins it is beautiful and it is shining and it is new and it is there and she does not doubt and she just knows it will wait and she sometimes wonders what will come next but that is for tomorrow and tomorrow’s dreams and yet delaying is never an option and where dreaming is optional and she’ll grow out her hair and she won’t get a haircut and she won’t write in chunks and her writing will be l

She just listens. It is so … indescribable. So much so that she simply has to try. It is - a sound of lost laughter. It echoes. It resonates. It is the sound of lost locks – She runs a hand through shorter hair. It is the sound of awkward hugs – and bursts of hope and joyful smiles and frustrated tears and overused clichés and leaving important words out and the wrong beginnings that make the right endings and letting things simply ‘play out’ and watching the raindrops fall onto the windows of the family car – and noticing a rainbow and the jumping hugs and the stormy nights with

It is the sound that many have already grown accustomed to. It is the short, quiet time that resides between the eerie silence of evening and the stressed, crammed light of day. The printer hums quietly in the distance, its soft, constant presence a gentle harmony against the low murmur of the surrounding students, the tapping of keys and the scratching of pencils, the flicking of pages and the scraping of chairs. There is the emptying of bags and finishing homework; weary procrastination lingers not so far off in the distance. It is the sound of the School Library.

Someday I hope that you will see it, Staring right back at you, And you will be wondering where it came from - But then you'll think And wait a pause, As to why it is so familiar - Because somewhere, In the darkness, When no one is looking, A little flutter, A slight reminder, Of my silhouette lingers near For as the sun can shine no brighter And you can't go the distance No matter how much I keep fading I'll still keep loving you But then you've always been the lucky one, Never wondering why or how, or looking behind your shoulder, Protected from that shining brightness, By a shield that I just can't touch. And as the s

A little whisper, Grazing my cheek, A tiny flutter, As I slowly turn away, …Just as if you were really there. I met you once, Standing at a crossroad, You had me, And I had you, And we wondered where to go, Slowly, eyelids closed, As the memories wove their way into our hearts, Such an intricate design, So delicately strong, Such a blessed curse; I often wonder, If as we passed, Crossing as we did, If you really thought About the future And us – about the other – But then again, If you’re at fault, Then so am I, Maybe even, Almost…possibly more so than you Now as I tie a ribbon in my hair,

once upon a time I had always believed That a beginning shaped an end And the journey simply made it all worthwhile But how is this possible? How was I to know that my beginning was never yours? And yet my questioning gets me nowhere – And at this place of nowhere, Between the realms of happiness and reality, I dream so much, So overwhelmingly... Undefined – So much like the line between love and hate; And now I know, That rules must always break, And life is all one big exception. But yet I thought, I really hoped, That at least you would be somewhere where I could love you, And that there would be someone to