Arramel Syn

Paradise Fears - Yours Truly Excerpt

Dear My Never.

This is my half-hearted goodbye.
The other half wants to still try.
Remembering words that you said.

But I guess we let go now.
We’ll be out on our own.
How you always wanted this all out.
But now I guess it’s too late.

But my one wish for you is that you find yourself.
Don’t settle for less or for anyone else.
I pray that you dream like the dreamer I know you can be.

Signed, Yours Truly.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=endscreen&NR=1&v=t3pQzi8bTGM

This is probably the worst night for me to be alone.

Are you afraid of bleeding? (the truth hurts)

Reblogged from greatnesslieswithin

greatnesslieswithin:

i am 
the scholar of the streets, 
who writes 
with 
a pocket knife

i can pen you a personal poem
that will tell you
a lot
about this
world, 

and, maybe, even
yourself -

but first, are you afraid 
of 
bleed
ing? 

Everything will be okay: even if it won’t.

Farewell (Short Story)

“I’d like to say goodbye” she whispered into the grass, turning her head up to the sky.

He sighed. And studied the way the leaves canopied their perfect piece of shade.

“Are you sure?” he studied her face for a moment. She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath,

“No, but I have to.”

“Why?” at this she propped herself up on her elbows and reopened her eyes to study the grass beside her fingers. She traced the leaves for a moment,

“Closure I suppose.” she bit her lip, and a single instant of vulnerability flashed across her features.

He reached across to touched her hand gently, “Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah,” the word came out softly in an exhalation of breath, “I need to do this.”

“Okay.” he stood up and held out his palm to her. She smiled and took the proffered assistance to stand. “Ready?” he murmured into her hair, and she bit back tears and nodded.

The graveyard was only a block away, freshly dug soil gave the air an earthy aroma, and the newly cut stone angel stared blankly at the wind.

Silhouette (Short Story)

My breath caught as the light haloed around his profile, and the misty grey smoke plumed out of his upturned lips.

I could feel my heart racing in a way that could not be blamed on intoxication. Yet, I remained where I was, apart.

Embers glowed softly behind him, and the fire danced in a mockery of my feelings. I looked away.

I couldn’t see his face, even when he leaned back in contentment. I couldn’t see anything outside of those glowing logs that were slowly disintegrating into ash. I felt restless, and cold, however in order to soak up the warmth of the fire, I’d have to cross the gap between us. I would have to approach that impersonal shadow, and meet on his terms.

My stomach churned, and I instead paced restlessly. I wanted to capture that fire, hold it, find what made it burn, and why I could not have it. The fire fascinated me. It was a beautiful distraction from the war within.

Fire has always meant something to me. I can never put my finger on it, but it is like art in so many ways. It consumes, but it also helps. It puts a stop to a deadly wound, and yet can snatch away a flicker of life so easily. When it touches you for a moment, it is a warm caress like that of a lover’s. However, if it lingers, it leaves you writhing in agony should anything else touch you once its gone. Yes, I wanted to capture fire. As much as anyone can capture something free. However if I were to have fire, I would ask it what to do.

I glanced up from my careful ministrations to see he had turned slightly as I paced the fire with a stick to catch it.

He smiled.

Love.

Passion.

Where are you?

Reblogged from thedeevie

thedeevie:

I would give my non-vital organs for an intense lip-biting, grope-filled, crushed-up-against-a-wall make out session right now. Just saying.

Yes. Please.