I have no idea why this part of E.A. Poe's The Raven was copied into a draft, but the passage still sounds good, so why not?
______________________
"`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'"
And yet, the broken heart cries freely,
to save my frozen soul, grown steely,
and my strength it staggers weakly through the
once safeguarded door
Enough, I cried! To break this measured poetic screening
of these feelings burning deeply
I pray to heaven, please release me
from these demons at my door
Tuesday, November 10, 2015
Monday, November 9, 2015
I just...
Yet another work I seem to have forgotten in the Cave of Drafts.
Want to be in love. Not alone, not unrequited, not temporal. To love and be loved.
________________________________________________________
In his eyes, Elsa could not have been more invisible than if she were to walk in an ever-present shadow. She would never push him to do otherwise. Instead, she buried her heart as deeply as she could, quieting its beating so that none but she might hear it crying for love. She had tried before. Out of some compulsion to care for those in need, to be for someone what no one would be for either of them. When she heard the weeping of a fellow heart, she could not do nothing but let hers cry out in response. But there never was one that sought to reciprocate the care she put into the relationship.
And as she found no heart that beat in time with her own, she silenced the pounding until it bled, wept, breathed, hoped and rotted in silent neglect. She had long since grown sick and starved with the lack of interest, of even decency in her relationships. And so, she gave it up.
In one glorious evening, she had disconnected from her past. How she loved the glow of the fire, the warmth created by the slow destruction of love letters, tear-stained pages, dreams pasted on paper hearts and all of the foolishness through which she had trudged with no satisfaction.
Now, she sought to lose herself in pleasure, the morphine of emotion. Yet again, she eyed the young man. He smiled and spoke innocently with those around him. His gentle chuckle seemed to struggle through the noise of the crowded bar. It called to the predator in her, and nearly begged for her to begin the chase, but it was too soon. She ordered another drink and studied him.
His long-sleeved shirt was casual, but stylish. His hair was a careful mess of scarlet to which his grey eyes provided a singular contrast. Even his jeans were distressed in a vaguely meticulous way. Probably homemade as she had never seen that pattern before. Overall he appeared relaxed, and yet she knew everything about his appearance was intentional. By the way his eyes flicked to the ground whenever a woman approached indicated that he hoped that a clean presentation would speak for him, as he did little more than respond politely to the conversation that buzzed around him. When the woman twittering in his ear stepped away to dance with a friend and his eyes followed her before scanning the crowd, Elsa decided to move in.
As she strode boldly towards him, the boot of her heel clicked to the time of the music. She shrugged and let her shirt slip off her shoulder, as it was meant to be worn, just before she sank gently into the seat beside him. He noticed her immediately, but she waited until he'd had ample time to casually survey her leather skirt and the way her shirt hung off her body just so he could noticed the plump swells on her chest and the golden sheen that warmed the cinnamon shade of her skin. He blushed at his behavior and dropped his gaze to fingers that busied themselves with turning his cup.
She chuckled, using the rich, deep tone she knew those of his kind could not resist. She turned violet eyes, the contacts making her seem more exotic, and looked at the man through the slanted bangs of her bobbed hair.
"So, do you like what you see?"
Surprised by her sudden attentions, he nearly spilled his drink in his efforts to explain himself. Again she laughed, placing her hand gently upon his arm as she did.
"It's fine. I've been looking at you for a while anyway," she said.
An instant of uncertainty temporarily darkened his eyes to slate gray.
"Not like that. I was sitting further down the bar and I couldn't help but notice you."
Soft pink lips quirked up to a sardonic smirk. He said, "The red hair, right?"
"It was your laugh, actually. It has a way of drawing people in, you know?"
A soft red began its slow creep over his pale cheeks. A gentle shake allowed his hair to slip down on his forehead, providing some amount of protection.
"I...I didn't know that. People usually notice the hair first.," he said, clearing his throat.
His posture shifted, as though in that moment he had given himself an internal pep talk. He raised his head and smile, it was innocent and showed a sense of genuineness that made her question what she was about to do.
"My name is Liam. And who might you be?"
One eyebrow arched as she observed the change in demeanor before she let her glossed lips part reciprocating grin.
"You can call me Elsa. If you're lucky, I just might let you call me El," she responded.
There was no shy blush this time, only a warm response.
"And what brings you to a bar on a night like this, Elsa?"
"I could ask you the same thing, Liam."
Without missing a beat, he replied "you could, but I am honor bound, as a gentleman, to let the lady go first."
A sense of humor and a cute smile? She liked that. She hid a frown behind her smile. She wasn't supposed to be charmed. Compose yourself, Elsa, she thought. He's cute now, but you know well enough what they become.
"I was bored and alone. I decided to skip the popcorn and movie marathon and get out of my house, and my head. At least here I can occupy myself with people watching."
If she'd read him right, he would be able to identify with that. He seemed like a thinker.
"I can certainly understand that. Though, I admit, I'm only here because my buddies wanted a wingman," he said.
She watched the shadow of a grimace make a momentary appearance before he recovered himself.
"I'd have thought you'd be the center of attention with the way you look." She feigned a blush. "I'm sorry. I-I shouldn't have been so forward." She let her eyes drop to her lap for a moment.
"Hey, I don't mind in the least.What's not to love about an open compliment? It's good for my self-confidence," he said.
She looked up through her lashes, allowing him to admire the care she had taken in applying her eye shadow.
"Then let me do you one better," she said.
Leaning forward so her lips just brushed against his ear and a hand gently gripped his leg.
"I don't want to be brazen, but I think I like you, and I'd like to get to know you better. But, not here. What do you think about that?," she whispered.
She quite enjoyed the small shudder that preceded that rising of a blush on his cheeks once again.
Want to be in love. Not alone, not unrequited, not temporal. To love and be loved.
________________________________________________________
In his eyes, Elsa could not have been more invisible than if she were to walk in an ever-present shadow. She would never push him to do otherwise. Instead, she buried her heart as deeply as she could, quieting its beating so that none but she might hear it crying for love. She had tried before. Out of some compulsion to care for those in need, to be for someone what no one would be for either of them. When she heard the weeping of a fellow heart, she could not do nothing but let hers cry out in response. But there never was one that sought to reciprocate the care she put into the relationship.
And as she found no heart that beat in time with her own, she silenced the pounding until it bled, wept, breathed, hoped and rotted in silent neglect. She had long since grown sick and starved with the lack of interest, of even decency in her relationships. And so, she gave it up.
In one glorious evening, she had disconnected from her past. How she loved the glow of the fire, the warmth created by the slow destruction of love letters, tear-stained pages, dreams pasted on paper hearts and all of the foolishness through which she had trudged with no satisfaction.
Now, she sought to lose herself in pleasure, the morphine of emotion. Yet again, she eyed the young man. He smiled and spoke innocently with those around him. His gentle chuckle seemed to struggle through the noise of the crowded bar. It called to the predator in her, and nearly begged for her to begin the chase, but it was too soon. She ordered another drink and studied him.
His long-sleeved shirt was casual, but stylish. His hair was a careful mess of scarlet to which his grey eyes provided a singular contrast. Even his jeans were distressed in a vaguely meticulous way. Probably homemade as she had never seen that pattern before. Overall he appeared relaxed, and yet she knew everything about his appearance was intentional. By the way his eyes flicked to the ground whenever a woman approached indicated that he hoped that a clean presentation would speak for him, as he did little more than respond politely to the conversation that buzzed around him. When the woman twittering in his ear stepped away to dance with a friend and his eyes followed her before scanning the crowd, Elsa decided to move in.
As she strode boldly towards him, the boot of her heel clicked to the time of the music. She shrugged and let her shirt slip off her shoulder, as it was meant to be worn, just before she sank gently into the seat beside him. He noticed her immediately, but she waited until he'd had ample time to casually survey her leather skirt and the way her shirt hung off her body just so he could noticed the plump swells on her chest and the golden sheen that warmed the cinnamon shade of her skin. He blushed at his behavior and dropped his gaze to fingers that busied themselves with turning his cup.
She chuckled, using the rich, deep tone she knew those of his kind could not resist. She turned violet eyes, the contacts making her seem more exotic, and looked at the man through the slanted bangs of her bobbed hair.
"So, do you like what you see?"
Surprised by her sudden attentions, he nearly spilled his drink in his efforts to explain himself. Again she laughed, placing her hand gently upon his arm as she did.
"It's fine. I've been looking at you for a while anyway," she said.
An instant of uncertainty temporarily darkened his eyes to slate gray.
"Not like that. I was sitting further down the bar and I couldn't help but notice you."
Soft pink lips quirked up to a sardonic smirk. He said, "The red hair, right?"
"It was your laugh, actually. It has a way of drawing people in, you know?"
A soft red began its slow creep over his pale cheeks. A gentle shake allowed his hair to slip down on his forehead, providing some amount of protection.
"I...I didn't know that. People usually notice the hair first.," he said, clearing his throat.
His posture shifted, as though in that moment he had given himself an internal pep talk. He raised his head and smile, it was innocent and showed a sense of genuineness that made her question what she was about to do.
"My name is Liam. And who might you be?"
One eyebrow arched as she observed the change in demeanor before she let her glossed lips part reciprocating grin.
"You can call me Elsa. If you're lucky, I just might let you call me El," she responded.
There was no shy blush this time, only a warm response.
"And what brings you to a bar on a night like this, Elsa?"
"I could ask you the same thing, Liam."
Without missing a beat, he replied "you could, but I am honor bound, as a gentleman, to let the lady go first."
A sense of humor and a cute smile? She liked that. She hid a frown behind her smile. She wasn't supposed to be charmed. Compose yourself, Elsa, she thought. He's cute now, but you know well enough what they become.
"I was bored and alone. I decided to skip the popcorn and movie marathon and get out of my house, and my head. At least here I can occupy myself with people watching."
If she'd read him right, he would be able to identify with that. He seemed like a thinker.
"I can certainly understand that. Though, I admit, I'm only here because my buddies wanted a wingman," he said.
She watched the shadow of a grimace make a momentary appearance before he recovered himself.
"I'd have thought you'd be the center of attention with the way you look." She feigned a blush. "I'm sorry. I-I shouldn't have been so forward." She let her eyes drop to her lap for a moment.
"Hey, I don't mind in the least.What's not to love about an open compliment? It's good for my self-confidence," he said.
She looked up through her lashes, allowing him to admire the care she had taken in applying her eye shadow.
"Then let me do you one better," she said.
Leaning forward so her lips just brushed against his ear and a hand gently gripped his leg.
"I don't want to be brazen, but I think I like you, and I'd like to get to know you better. But, not here. What do you think about that?," she whispered.
She quite enjoyed the small shudder that preceded that rising of a blush on his cheeks once again.
I Can't Seem to Stop
I've been here before,
I've said this before,
I've hurt people before
And for some reason,
I can't seem to stop
I have breached the heavy walls that seperate self from others
Let a spark of light disrupt the steady darkness of my self-imposed night
I have dared to believe that maybe, just maybe, I don't have to be alone
And for some reason, I can't seem to stop
I have relished the flavor of new connection, a yet undiscovered soul
I have pulled back the curtain, to give the fortunate few a glimpse of the woman behind
I have sat as eager listener, learner, observer, explorer
I have reveled in the joy of finding the familiar, the resonant, the right in another
And for some reason,
I can't seem to stop
I have given way to fantasies, sweet and sultry alike
I have turned my thoughts into tendrils, sent out to tease and tempt
I have danced in heat and sex, in comfort and calm, in passion and ferocity
I have allowed the seed of hope to grow beyond my self-made cages
And for some reason,
I can't seem to stop
I have spewed such poison, as could kill all the world's dreams
I have used tender hearts as foot rests and convenient crutches because I have always been broken
I have played sympathy against my apathy, and left the care of another crumpled, used and discarded like waste
I have done my worst to see if possibly, I could destroy the possibility of a lifelong friend, partner, lover, connection
And for some reason,
I can't seem to stop
I have walked the long mile, scuffing my hardened feet instead of the shoes of another
I have let my laughter leave my lips, turning them to bear a heavier burden
I have let friendship fade, pushed away, and with shaking hands, tried to clean the blood in my wake
I have planted mistakes and let them mature into disasters, knowing what comes after, and praying for the destruction anyway
And for some reason,
I can't seem to stop
I have painted blue skies black, uselessly swiping at the planets that pull the pain back
I have closed doors once open, building walls of brick when naive hope gets stuck in the door.
I have offered my ____ as sacrifice, praying for the necessary devices to return the disturbed earth to what it once was
I have walked away from open arms, cut ties made into lifelines, burned bridges before they were built, and returned to cursed isolation before spreading desolation
And for some reason,
I can't seem to stop
I've said this before,
I've hurt people before
And for some reason,
I can't seem to stop
I have breached the heavy walls that seperate self from others
Let a spark of light disrupt the steady darkness of my self-imposed night
I have dared to believe that maybe, just maybe, I don't have to be alone
And for some reason, I can't seem to stop
I have relished the flavor of new connection, a yet undiscovered soul
I have pulled back the curtain, to give the fortunate few a glimpse of the woman behind
I have sat as eager listener, learner, observer, explorer
I have reveled in the joy of finding the familiar, the resonant, the right in another
And for some reason,
I can't seem to stop
I have given way to fantasies, sweet and sultry alike
I have turned my thoughts into tendrils, sent out to tease and tempt
I have danced in heat and sex, in comfort and calm, in passion and ferocity
I have allowed the seed of hope to grow beyond my self-made cages
And for some reason,
I can't seem to stop
I have spewed such poison, as could kill all the world's dreams
I have used tender hearts as foot rests and convenient crutches because I have always been broken
I have played sympathy against my apathy, and left the care of another crumpled, used and discarded like waste
I have done my worst to see if possibly, I could destroy the possibility of a lifelong friend, partner, lover, connection
And for some reason,
I can't seem to stop
I have walked the long mile, scuffing my hardened feet instead of the shoes of another
I have let my laughter leave my lips, turning them to bear a heavier burden
I have let friendship fade, pushed away, and with shaking hands, tried to clean the blood in my wake
I have planted mistakes and let them mature into disasters, knowing what comes after, and praying for the destruction anyway
And for some reason,
I can't seem to stop
I have painted blue skies black, uselessly swiping at the planets that pull the pain back
I have closed doors once open, building walls of brick when naive hope gets stuck in the door.
I have offered my ____ as sacrifice, praying for the necessary devices to return the disturbed earth to what it once was
I have walked away from open arms, cut ties made into lifelines, burned bridges before they were built, and returned to cursed isolation before spreading desolation
And for some reason,
I can't seem to stop
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