*gloomy*

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Member Since: 29 Feb 2012 06:43pm

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Birthday: November 15

Location: Distant

Gender: F

user id: 279442

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02. 29. 12.

*gloomy*
posted a quote
December 29, 2014 4:59pm UTC

Brianna's favorite rarely used words.
Ambivalent – having mixed feelings about someone or something; being unable to choose between two (usually opposing) courses of action.
Evanesce – to dissipate or disappear like vapor.
Heathen (offensive) – one who adheres to the religion of a people or nation that does not acknowledge the God of Judaism, Christianity, or Islam; the unconverted.
Moonstruck – dazed or distracted with romantic sentiment; slightly mad.
Gossamer – something delicate, light, or flimsy; a soft sheer gauzy fabric.
Catharsis – a purification or purgation that brings about spiritual renewal or release from tension.
Aphrodisiac – something that causes intense arousal.
Moiety – a half of two equal parts.

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*gloomy*
posted a quote
December 26, 2014 6:09pm UTC

do you remember when our fingers were clumsy?

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*gloomy*
posted a quote
December 26, 2014 5:34pm UTC

~ There are times ~ where it appears you want to say something more, but you hold back. It alludes to this hidden part of you that I’ve never really known, a shadowy closet tucked back from sight, where you do not smile, do not laugh.

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*gloomy*
posted a quote
December 23, 2014 10:11pm UTC

. . •
★★★
So what white will the heart wear
till the soul is its own blood-filled crystal
ruby refuge for a fugitive angel?
– agha shahid ali, barcelona airport.

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*gloomy*
posted a quote
December 19, 2014 4:07pm UTC

Drabble #38 – Whirlpool
Smother the bird of my heart and make a wreath of the feathers. Hang it from your door. Let me at least be a trophy in your cabinet. I’ll bleed into the walls; into the plaster so that I’m all you see in the corner of your eye. I taped needles to my skin in hopes that you would understand how I felt when you touched me. Notice the pearls around my neck, each a sliver of happiness, painstakingly strung one by one. You’ve pressed the fragments of these into my palms, ran them over with alcohol to sterilize the feelings out of them. Maybe they’ll fade, or disintegrate. I’ll never know if they do.

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*gloomy*
posted a quote
December 13, 2014 4:56pm UTC

"See, nobody warns you about yourself.
The red in your eye, the trap in your mouth."
– Yrsa Daley-Ward

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*gloomy*
posted a quote
December 12, 2014 8:01pm UTC

Drabble #36 – What worlds she did not break.
Hearken this grove of secrets pulled by the tide, the shore grasps to keep. I’ve glimpsed the shadow of doubt across your face so here, take these words I couldn’t form so they decayed on my tongue and inlayed them gravestones, but we call them teeth. Here, listen to the ripple of my heart being pulled out to sea. Here, listen to the ocean; it will translate my soul better than I. Here, pluck these heartstrings, make a melody of my love and remember it. I coveted the shore and its inability to stop loving the tide, reminiscent of cold hands on my ribs. We swish salt water in our mouths to heal the cuts, don’t you see? It’s love, dissolved in a glass, magical, healing.

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*gloomy*
posted a quote
December 9, 2014 7:38pm UTC

Drabble #34 – The cracked edge of something once seamless.
Sometimes I tell myself that the furniture is more than furniture. When you left, all I had was the acid green futon, a cracked wooden coffee table, and cold sheets. I still recall the day we went to IKEA and picked up the new family members, on sale and ugly as can be. Sometimes I talk to my furniture, and sometimes it talks back, but only sometimes. Most of the time there’s nothing else I can do, but teeter on the edge between detached apathy and infatuation. Sometimes, I feel nothing. Other times… I can feel the world breathing against the soles of my feet.

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*gloomy*
posted a quote
December 6, 2014 11:55am UTC

Drabble #35 – Flavors
Swallow the universe and you’ll be picking stars out of your teeth. Put the bottle down and leave the dregs of planets and speckled backwash for me. I’ll smoke those infinities from your lungs, if you let me. I swear I will, for all the gold encrusted and diamond studded promises I offer, this one comes laced in stardust. This dusty shelf holds a more cracked you. This rusty faucet knows the color of your teeth too well. This frozen mountain that we’re dancing on is a slippery slope indeed, but you’re so beautiful when nebulae are swirling in our drinks and painting the surface of your eyes.

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*gloomy*
posted a quote
December 5, 2014 7:51pm UTC

“Some things are more precious because they don't last long.”
― Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

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*gloomy*
posted a quote
December 5, 2014 6:19pm UTC

Drabble #33 – I'll be fond.
You swish sins in the saltwater sea of your mouth and hang them from your teeth like strung lights. I ask why you didn’t clock into work on time and you blame it on traffic. We both know that this is a small town and there is no traffic. We also know that there’s several ways to cover your tracks but none of them can wipe the dirt from your conscience like your own denial. It’s so easy to lie, to hurt, and to convince yourself that you’re doing a good thing. But being truthful and unapologetically kind, now that takes real courage.

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*gloomy*
posted a quote
December 4, 2014 7:28pm UTC

Blood must not merely follow routine,
must not just flow as the veins' uninterrupted river.
Sometimes it must flood the eyes,
surprise them by being clear as water.
- Agha Shahid Ali, the veiled suit

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*gloomy*
posted a quote
December 2, 2014 7:44pm UTC

Drabble #32 – Ripple
The fence is still sharp. There is dust stuck to the bottoms of my feet. The neighbor is mowing again. It’s 11 o’clock and it was 11 o’clock yesterday. It was the same then and it’ll be the same tomorrow. There’s a slower, less painful way of doing this, but it won’t do. We are meant to leave crumbs in our lives and stains on the ground beneath our feet. We dive headfirst into the people we meet and ricochet off the pavement beneath their insecurities. We always ripple. I tell myself this- that I’m a firework and I deserve nothing less than someone who will always be amazed by the crackle behind my chest.

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*gloomy*
posted a quote
November 30, 2014 3:03pm UTC

Drabble #31 – And it tastes like a Friday night.
There’s a novel at my fingertips waiting to be written, or read, or… something. It’s breathing icicles, which doesn’t really make sense, but there they are: cutting into the soft skin of my palms. My body is trying so hard to remember how to burn, how to be light in the animal of your touch. I want to be loud, but not too loud, just enough to be listened to. Your paper skin on my paper heart is enough paper for us to get lost in. Or write love stories for. This novel is writing itself, you see.

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*gloomy*
posted a quote
November 29, 2014 5:05pm UTC

From these floating ribs to your angel wings.
A wobbly conscience and stuttering fingers do not make for a very filling conversation.
Let me explain.
It was snowing, but he didn’t feel the cold. He was far too empty for that, cockily apathetic. Or maybe I was too full, tripping down the tease of a loose thread or a missing bolt.
I wondered what he would do if I cracked his hand open so I could fit my fingers into the empty spaces. When he asked a question, his voice lilted slightly at the end, and I felt the rushing desire to leap up and wrap around the curlicue tails of his syllables, melting into the brown sugar of his voice. At a break in the conversation he rubbed his hands together, and the friction it created curved toward my ribs, spreading throughout my chest and warming the space between. Sooner than later he stood to his feet, another prospect more enticing and important, and I begged to whisper- wait.
Just wait, stick around a little longer. You’re so beautiful, please.
A salt mill formed in my mouth, and I couldn’t push the words past the brine on my tongue.

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*gloomy*
posted a quote
November 7, 2014 6:45pm UTC

Drabble #24 – Call me a safe bet, I'm betting I'm not.
I was raised by a lake so vast I’d first thought it was the ocean. (The humidity is reminding you of how sweaty your palms are.) I’d tried to run away three different times, but no matter how far you run, the ocean will always stretch out father then you. (This is for you, this is home.) I’ve never been to the ocean, but I imagine it looks a lot like that lake, vast, and always bigger than me. (You’ll choke on your lungs out there, suffocate in salt mills.) It was a home, at one time. (I promise.)

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*gloomy*
posted a quote
November 7, 2014 6:38pm UTC

People bleed in reds; from dark rose, thick and brackish, to bright strawberry, rushing and young. It’s unique to each person, each with some interesting quality. I kept a palate of all the reds I found, from burgundy to near-pink. I searched endlessly for the perfect shade of red, and when I found it in a young whirlwind of a boy whose smile cut across his face like the sun cresting the horizon, I suddenly wasn’t so sure. It happened on a day where the sky had forgotten how to rain, but it appeared to be trying to remember. He’d coaxed the knife from my fingers and promised to love enough for the both of us.

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*gloomy*
posted a quote
November 1, 2014 10:28am UTC

Drabble #30 – "Man is a creature of impulse."
But that is the difference between you and I, you carry an ocean in your back pocket and I find it difficult to twist water bottle caps off. I get frustrated with the crack in my ceiling and you draw leaves growing from it. You know a hundred different ways to express your love and I can never find a single one. We fit together in a toxic sort of way— asking and doing are two different animals. The push and pull of too many differences, but if there’s one thing Humans have proved, it’s that anything can be tamed.

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*gloomy*
posted a quote
October 24, 2014 6:47pm UTC

Drabble #29 – Driftwood
You clench your fist, and say “This… isn’t it.” I shut my eyes, as though, if I squeeze them tight enough, I will open them and be somewhere else. “This isn’t a thing.” Except for when it kind of is. You see, sometimes it is complicated, but more often it is rather simple. I am a fleeting moment, like unripe fruit– bitter and sharp. I am like when the dog that ran away from your childhood comes back, and you realize that they, just like you, have aged. I am only a piece of driftwood, lost, and too far from home.

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*gloomy*
posted a quote
October 22, 2014 7:32pm UTC

Drabble #16 – Wombat Day
There’s a frazzled redhead to my left holding a distressed turtle that’s releasing awful raspy keens and an auspicious cluster of feathers to my right, both seated on cracked brown leather. A small tawny-brown wombat rests on my thighs, turning in circles and wiggling its nose. I question how it got on the subway, or in America. As far as I know wombats live primarily in the country of Not America. I look down at my digital watch, it’s October 22nd. There’s a startling noise of every window being smashed at once. Hordes of wombats start pouring into the subway.
Happy Wombat day eveyone!

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