merry christmas, darling. by frost-berry, literature
Literature
merry christmas, darling.
there are grapes lying in the bottom of my fridge, squashed and drained of juice.
my heart is wrinkled and brown like those little green balloons.
your love has taken away what was once sweet and refreshing.
you made our throats moist, banishing what was once dry like rubbing sand grains into the soles of your feet.
as the last ornament is left dangling from a branch of the tree, i look around the empty room.
pine needles and smashed snow globes are gathering dust where you should be.
i kick away the box i was going to give to you, wrapped in a thousand stars.
you are beautiful.
so pure, so gentle, so delicate.
you are falling and you don't know how.
from heaven? from a cloud? from an angel's purse?
you descend with your friends.
they chase you downwards. it's not a race, but it may as well be.
you are freezing.
it is so very cold. but that's the only way you'll stay alive.
you are frightened
so you squeeze your eyes closed. but you're missing out on the beauty, my dear!
you are flying past the cotton wool clouds and watercoloured skies that are not blue, but grey.
grey like it is on those chilly mornings when your mother serves you porridge for breakfast.
you hear the voices of angels
the boy leans to the girl in the red dress,
her black eyes slant, ringlets of her hair fall
as dark as the richest berries; now shines
the sunlight plays with the strands
the girl is cautious as the boy twists her hair
'round and 'round his soft fingers, chocolate and cream
combine; sweet pleasure no one can deny
he pauses, stares, their eyes shine with stars
the whole world spins too fast for an instant
when the red wine has had too much of you;
his lips embrace the girl's, scents engulfing
a candle flame appears in the darkness
as amid the sounds of youth and their fun and games;
the soccer ball arrives to smack her head.
I do not understand human beings. They are not nice. They kick, they punch, they stab you in the back. They spread your secrets and tell you lies. They strangle children and throw bombs over large cities. They cancel your favourite television shows and stop writing the books you enjoy reading. They slaughter intelligent creatures like dolphins and whales for fun. They brutally abuse others who are exactly the same as them human.
So I'm not sure whether I love or hate humans. Sure, there are the ones that I love with all my heart, plain and simple. But then I start to think about the other ones who are not like them at all. The ones th
don't try to be something you're not.
you think you're making yourself more beautiful
but it's not working
i can't find the person you used to be.
where is she?
she's looking more upset and angry, and well, ugly..
you're going to end up hurting yourself
again.
and i can't stop you.
because i don't control your life.
be free, my little sparrow
but please
be careful.
nothing is more beautiful than you.
every time i see you
i feel that smile coming again.
i get those little tiny butterflies -
and why?
i have no fucking idea.
one hundred percent you.
that's all anyone needs
anything else is just a waste of both mine and your
you have t-shirts on my floor.
blue, grey, green -
sweat, blood, and tears.
they smell just like you.
you pull out that lighter
flame on, flame off.
now that sweet smoke smell
reminds me of you.
you make the coffee beans roast.
water, milk and sugar -
serving a latte for me,
espresso for you.
you lie on my bed
staring into my eyes -
your pants hang past your waist.
stop distracting me, you.
you stand on the footpath,
and i'm in the cab -
green light, i'm off.
waving goodbye to you.
sucked, surrounded, swallowed. by frost-berry, literature
Literature
sucked, surrounded, swallowed.
i can't stop crying
i can't say anything right
i can't speak to anyone without arguing.
it's not what they want to hear.
i can't be myself anymore,
my supposedly funny, sarcastic self -
where is she?
i'm beginning to lose her
no, damnit, she's already lost.
she was sucked into this hole of pitiful despair.
the only way i can escape
is if i shout to the angels above
but they're not listening,
they don't notice.
i wonder...
did they ever really care?
i gaze up at the sky
but i can't see the stars.
surrounded by blackness, i am,
swallowed up by my own demons.
i guess i'll just sit in my lair
and let the lions feed off my bo
I want to say it, but can't. by frost-berry, literature
Literature
I want to say it, but can't.
i.
Ah, yes. You. I haven't seen you in a while.
I think you're weird and wonderful and I love you.
I don't know what I'll do when you leave.
ii.
You did the right thing.
But how could you say that to them?
You do realise that hurt, right?
More than one was in pain.
iii.
You think we're so similar. '
Yet you talk behind my back and throw fireballs in my face.
Charming. I hate you.
iv.
I now have to think about what I say to you
a ticking time bomb.
You're amazing, unique and one of the best people I know.
Please don't explode.
v.
You said yes.
I don't know whether I could ever forgive you, or trust you,
the green, green grass. by frost-berry, literature
Literature
the green, green grass.
O my luve's like the green, green grass,
That's newly mown in May;
O my luve's like the mulberry bush
That sweetly brightens my day:
As fair art thou, my bony ass,
So deep in luve am I;
And i will love thee still, my grasshoppie,
Till a' the weeviles cry -
Till a' the weeviles cry, my deer.
And the badgers melt w' the trees -
I will love thee still, my deer.
Even when you're full o' fleas!
And o it's real, my only luve,
And o it's real, a while
And you will run again, my luve,
Trip o'er the large rock pile!
merry christmas, darling. by frost-berry, literature
Literature
merry christmas, darling.
there are grapes lying in the bottom of my fridge, squashed and drained of juice.
my heart is wrinkled and brown like those little green balloons.
your love has taken away what was once sweet and refreshing.
you made our throats moist, banishing what was once dry like rubbing sand grains into the soles of your feet.
as the last ornament is left dangling from a branch of the tree, i look around the empty room.
pine needles and smashed snow globes are gathering dust where you should be.
i kick away the box i was going to give to you, wrapped in a thousand stars.
you are beautiful.
so pure, so gentle, so delicate.
you are falling and you don't know how.
from heaven? from a cloud? from an angel's purse?
you descend with your friends.
they chase you downwards. it's not a race, but it may as well be.
you are freezing.
it is so very cold. but that's the only way you'll stay alive.
you are frightened
so you squeeze your eyes closed. but you're missing out on the beauty, my dear!
you are flying past the cotton wool clouds and watercoloured skies that are not blue, but grey.
grey like it is on those chilly mornings when your mother serves you porridge for breakfast.
you hear the voices of angels
the boy leans to the girl in the red dress,
her black eyes slant, ringlets of her hair fall
as dark as the richest berries; now shines
the sunlight plays with the strands
the girl is cautious as the boy twists her hair
'round and 'round his soft fingers, chocolate and cream
combine; sweet pleasure no one can deny
he pauses, stares, their eyes shine with stars
the whole world spins too fast for an instant
when the red wine has had too much of you;
his lips embrace the girl's, scents engulfing
a candle flame appears in the darkness
as amid the sounds of youth and their fun and games;
the soccer ball arrives to smack her head.
I do not understand human beings. They are not nice. They kick, they punch, they stab you in the back. They spread your secrets and tell you lies. They strangle children and throw bombs over large cities. They cancel your favourite television shows and stop writing the books you enjoy reading. They slaughter intelligent creatures like dolphins and whales for fun. They brutally abuse others who are exactly the same as them human.
So I'm not sure whether I love or hate humans. Sure, there are the ones that I love with all my heart, plain and simple. But then I start to think about the other ones who are not like them at all. The ones th
don't try to be something you're not.
you think you're making yourself more beautiful
but it's not working
i can't find the person you used to be.
where is she?
she's looking more upset and angry, and well, ugly..
you're going to end up hurting yourself
again.
and i can't stop you.
because i don't control your life.
be free, my little sparrow
but please
be careful.
nothing is more beautiful than you.
every time i see you
i feel that smile coming again.
i get those little tiny butterflies -
and why?
i have no fucking idea.
one hundred percent you.
that's all anyone needs
anything else is just a waste of both mine and your
you have t-shirts on my floor.
blue, grey, green -
sweat, blood, and tears.
they smell just like you.
you pull out that lighter
flame on, flame off.
now that sweet smoke smell
reminds me of you.
you make the coffee beans roast.
water, milk and sugar -
serving a latte for me,
espresso for you.
you lie on my bed
staring into my eyes -
your pants hang past your waist.
stop distracting me, you.
you stand on the footpath,
and i'm in the cab -
green light, i'm off.
waving goodbye to you.
sucked, surrounded, swallowed. by frost-berry, literature
Literature
sucked, surrounded, swallowed.
i can't stop crying
i can't say anything right
i can't speak to anyone without arguing.
it's not what they want to hear.
i can't be myself anymore,
my supposedly funny, sarcastic self -
where is she?
i'm beginning to lose her
no, damnit, she's already lost.
she was sucked into this hole of pitiful despair.
the only way i can escape
is if i shout to the angels above
but they're not listening,
they don't notice.
i wonder...
did they ever really care?
i gaze up at the sky
but i can't see the stars.
surrounded by blackness, i am,
swallowed up by my own demons.
i guess i'll just sit in my lair
and let the lions feed off my bo
I want to say it, but can't. by frost-berry, literature
Literature
I want to say it, but can't.
i.
Ah, yes. You. I haven't seen you in a while.
I think you're weird and wonderful and I love you.
I don't know what I'll do when you leave.
ii.
You did the right thing.
But how could you say that to them?
You do realise that hurt, right?
More than one was in pain.
iii.
You think we're so similar. '
Yet you talk behind my back and throw fireballs in my face.
Charming. I hate you.
iv.
I now have to think about what I say to you
a ticking time bomb.
You're amazing, unique and one of the best people I know.
Please don't explode.
v.
You said yes.
I don't know whether I could ever forgive you, or trust you,
the green, green grass. by frost-berry, literature
Literature
the green, green grass.
O my luve's like the green, green grass,
That's newly mown in May;
O my luve's like the mulberry bush
That sweetly brightens my day:
As fair art thou, my bony ass,
So deep in luve am I;
And i will love thee still, my grasshoppie,
Till a' the weeviles cry -
Till a' the weeviles cry, my deer.
And the badgers melt w' the trees -
I will love thee still, my deer.
Even when you're full o' fleas!
And o it's real, my only luve,
And o it's real, a while
And you will run again, my luve,
Trip o'er the large rock pile!
don't try to be something you're not.
you think you're making yourself more beautiful
but it's not working
i can't find the person you used to be.
where is she?
she's looking more upset and angry, and well, ugly..
you're going to end up hurting yourself
again.
and i can't stop you.
because i don't control your life.
be free, my little sparrow
but please
be careful.
nothing is more beautiful than you.
every time i see you
i feel that smile coming again.
i get those little tiny butterflies -
and why?
i have no fucking idea.
one hundred percent you.
that's all anyone needs
anything else is just a waste of both mine and your
I love stringing words together like they were made for each other - sighing in contentment as all the pieces fall into place, like the froth on top of coffee flopping into a perfect swirl. With a sprinkle of chocolate powder, of course ;)
I am passionate about my friends, food, books, sunshine, laughter, games, words, animals, new clothes and keyrings.
Saying sorry doesn't always mean that you're wrong. Sometimes, it means that you're just tired explaining yourself to everyone. I hate saying sorry. I hate eating up my pride. I'm tired, just tired letting people do this to me.
Current Residence: 12 Grimmauld Place Favourite genre of music: indie, pop, alternative, rock Favourite style of art: photography MP3 player of choice: iTunes
Favourite Movies
titanic, sleepless in seattle
Favourite Bands / Musical Artists
alphabeat (among many)
Favourite Writers
jane austen, audrey niffenegger, ceclia ahern, william shakespeare, j.k. rowling, james patterson
sorry for the obvious hiatus.
i'm just over it. really over it.
and i just...no i can't say it.
but god, it's freaking hot.
and i don't know what to write anymore.
the twenty-ten school year is over and i am pleased. mostly.
sometimes i don't like the long summer holiday because i don't know the next time i'll see my friends again. going to school just had that guarantee that you would see some people you know and like that day, you know?
most of the time i hate being at home.
but the next few days shall be good. picnics and carols and shopping! xD it's a beautiful thing, really.
i also hate decorating christmas trees alone. (last year as well). i can't remember the last time christmas truly felt like family time, where everyone smiled and there were real pine trees around. the artificial ones make
-sigh- so Christmas is in like, three weeks.
Went shopping today to buy presents for my lovely friends.
GOSH I found some amazing things. Good value, too!
There was the most AMAZING jewelery shop open. OMG it was so beautiful (: I'm so going back there for myself one day.
Anyway, I had a lot of fun picking out things people would like. I love Christmas :heart:
I also bought a cute purple umbrella for myself, since my old one is probably still sitting soaking wet under a seat of some train somewhere. Poor dear D: