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On A Good Day...Sometimes I will wake up to find that he is still sleeping. His face will be calm or, if I am exceedingly lucky, there will be the smallest smile upon his lips. On those days I will wait, I will watch as he slowly wakes. I will kiss him and he will smile, not with his lips but with his eyes. And I will be happy because of the glow I see in those blue eyes.
On those days he will chose his own clothing, picking out those that fit him, which cling to his form. Perhaps I will catch him looking in the mirror as he brushes his hair.
As always I will guide him, leading him down the stairs to our breakfast table. On those good days he will eat, picking out his favorite food. I am always the one who carries the conversation, but on those days he will speak with me and, if we are lucky, then he will laugh.
On those rare golden days he will leave the table and open the windows so that the sun shines in upon his sanctuary. He will sit and push back the cover of his piano. With a smile on his face
I Carry OnI'm passing by the burned out bars
Eternally wandering, I ponder the past
It burns in the black windows of every shop
My reflection glares back from the tarnished glass
Screaming and yelling, reaching out to grab and pull
Many a night I've danced with my reflection
Holding my arms up I display my battle scars
Striving to give meaning, to fan the flames of pride
I tell myself that I'll be ready, that I'll win this bout
But there in the darkness my reflection waits
Screaming and yelling, laughing and cursing
I walk through the rain without protection
The rain takes away my control, causes me to quake
My fears can safely emerge, my tears can fall unnoticed
I knew your love wouldn't last so I never told you
I know your love won't return so I'll never show you
I say that my pain can not be dulled
I lie, for I do not wish it to.
This darkened glass reflects so much
It hands my own words, my own truths back
The pain which leads me to tears is not so great
As the pain of allowing those tears t
Blood BrothersBrookie always holds my hand when we cross the street. She's never given a reason for it, she just does it. It's become this unspoken rule with us that whenever we cross the street together, she slips her hand in mine and I lace my fingers through hers and we walk hand-in-hand until we reach the other side and she drops her hand and we both wipe our palms on our jeans. Brookie's a little scared of crossing the street. Her poppa died in a car crash when we were six. He was a pedestrian. She's never gotten over it.
Brookie is my best friend going on sixteen years now, which is pretty impressive considering we're both sixteen. We don't have some cute little story about how we were born in the same hospital on the same day or about how our mothers were best friends long before they were pregnant with us and somehow passed on that bond while we were still in utero. No, Brookie and I met the same way ever
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A two-time Community Volunteer for the deviantART Related category, Anne is well-known as a positive, helpful force. She is the community's resident expert when it comes to CSS (Cascading Style Sheets), and her personal gallery offers a wide variety of tutorials for new and experienced coders alike. In addition, each winter she hosts a calendar project encouraging members to create Journal designs for all to use, bringing more creativity to the community.
It is with immense gratitude that we acknowledge Anne as the recipient of the Deviousness Award for October 2014. Read More