

written ByI am a writerwritten By
so go away and write it but the words are stuck inside my throat so blow them outwards onto the paper But I cannot breathe with you here so close sigh heavily, pause, then gently step away


The Girl That Time ForgotApproximately one third of her life is now reported as missing in action Supposedly lost within the realms of a mind too full of irrelevant relevancies To allow her to hold onto her past.The Girl That Time Forgot
Yet she still chose to wait there, by the purple washing line,
bare feet desperately gripping onto the wet muddied ground. Hoping that one day she will see a haze coming into focus across the horizon line,
lighting up the whole of her sky with snapshots of memories that she never knew she had.
And because of this hope, she will always be defiantly standing there Forever watching, silently waitin


Painting By NumbersWhat do you have to excuse your bluntness that is as cold as the lamb heart sitting in our kitchen sink? Did you realise that every time you drip with those words you rip my soul into two jigsaw pieces that will now never slot back because my corners have been ripped off by someone now too angry to take the time see me through. I am not the picture you painted of me in greys and scarlet reds I am more of a sketchy outline on a canvas stained with time. And I will forever sit here waiting, for you to come and fill me in. with water soluble paint in all the colours of the rainbow likePainting By Numbers


Change of Addresswhenever I turn into a five sided triangle, you can still seeChange of Address
to the very point of me. Clearly I underestimated our quiet closeness.
I am currently visiting with you in a room
that is around two hundred footsteps to the right of our past
hidden beneath the old bell tower.
Today we have managed to make unbreakable daisy chain links from warm beer glasses and crumpled bed sheets. Leaving behind a plethora of broken hearts between us. So alike, but so indifferent.
And 8 whole seasons have passed me as I watched this tender-hearted stranger turn into m


accidental arti never chose a colour never picked the painting brush, never chose the paper nor penned a sketch as such.accidental art
and yet there is a picture which claims i have defaced, its details and its edges and its finest bits erased.
a picture of such beauty of a standard i cant reach, in techniques unfamiliar in a style you cannot teach.
a painting id be proud to paint or even just to frame, a painting if i had the skill, id confidently claim.
yet the painting scarcely sees that its a masterpiece to all, but bides its time accusing me of vandalistic gall.
the painting whispers to me


bedtime taleI slept for mostly seven hours, the seven days of seven years, I was not a wake for any hours,and now im wide awake, Some vivid, black and joyous dreams have taught me things and washed my tears, But none such lesson taught what I see now im awake,bedtime tale
A bedtime tale of happy joys, with photos lost but memories kept, Has come to life and touched me with both sadness and relief,
My bedtime tale in different clothes, in flat-heeled shoes so softly stepped, What was a tale of ups and downs is changed beyond belief.
For seven years I mourned the tale in hope my dreams would find it,  
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live life the way you choose
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Rykki
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Never Enough.....
i love your gallery it's amazing! ^_^
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----> <3 <---- ----> <3 <---->
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\* [link] */ -> kleinewereld.be
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