you woke me,
in my being.
you broke me,
and released me.
climbing above my rib cage,
and settling right atop my collar bones.
(more) and you sit there, not to comfort,
but to bury me.
you are within me,
in my bones,
watching me as i sleep.
keeping me locked,
as you watch,
from the windows of my soul,
and you whisper,
"my, what beautiful bones."(less)
You break in ways that leave a sour taste in your mouth.
Shivering and ice cold, you cling to him in the dark. He'd stormed in so quick that the beer bottle had dropped, and now it has spilled at your feet. He's warm, and solid, and he(more) murmurs your name like a chant, a prayer underneath his breath.
"Toby, you idiot. I told you not to start a bath without someone around."
"I'm not a child," you croak out, but the only thing you really care about is the pressure of his hands at your back and the nose in your hair.
"Sixteen is definitely a child."
He sucks you down into his world until your bones ache. Until he's there, residing in your marrow and moving your joints out of his own will and leaving you to suffer.
I always thought that when the right time came, love would be easy.
Previously I had been miserably bad in love, but still I was so sure, so certain, that with a right person, in a right time, love would be smooth sailing and clear skies.
Timing,(more) I thought, would be the crucial element. After all, as the saying goes, good things come to those who wait.
So I waited patiently. Years went by, but the right time wouldn't come. Sometimes I was anxious, almost angry, because in my quest for the good love I ended up tasting a startling amount of bad love.
However, this bitter side of angriness did not last very long.
I told myself that I was in no hurry, for I knew it in my bones that love in the right circumstances could (and should!) be nothing but good.
That was then, but this is now. I met you, and now I'm a bit wiser: now I know love is not always good, love is not always easy, and love being right does not make any difference at all.
We tried it when the time was bad, we tried it when the time was good, but in the end, the outcome was the same.
To my weary surprise, it seems that bad things come for everyone, whether or not you were waiting for them.
I never would've have guessed that my bones could lie to me.
She lost a bone. Of /course/ she lost a bone. After all, chicken bones are friggin' tiny, and she kind of had her hands full what with carrying two other pairs of shoes along with a giant metal staff. It was probably two days after leaving the house of(more) the Moon, and while she was setting up camp one of the rats or vultures or something ran off with it.
Of course she didn't think much of it. Yeah, that wasn't smart (of COURSE it was magic) but she figured she was set after the second chicken, moreso after the third.
Let it be known, magic is awful. Don't bother with it.
Because really. One bone and the whole ladder's useless? Really? She's traversed celestial bodies and magical plains, worn down three pairs of iron boots just to be staid here? Here? Right at the witch's house?
No, she thinks as she holds her knife to a finger. I've come too far to fail him now.(less)
You're everywhere, all around me. You gently caress my face the way the night breeze strokes the blades of grass when we lie together on the bed, a film playing in the background. Every touch, every kiss, I feel it. I feel it in my bones. It's a marvelous(more) feeling and strange, the thought that such a simple gesture, the faintest touch, can make me feel so much.(less)
sometimes, when the stars are up in the sky and you are probably asleep, love will come and find me in the dead of the night. love will hit me hard in the stomach and leave me breathless. i will feel it in my bones, running through my veins,(more) piercing in my heart. i wonder if you ever feel this too; a chill piercing, relentless and painful. this is how loves finds me; it hits me in the face; it leaves me on my hands and knees begging it to stop.(less)
the year is 2341. global warming has taken full effect, nuclear power plants are melting, and people are become more horrifyingly mutated every decade.
everything's radioactive, supposedly. there are shelters underground that provide protection from toxic fumes. i live in one. it is so boring and we follo(more)w the same routine every. single. day.
one thing that's not boring, though, is the stories. older people in my camp constantly fill me with tales of "above", as they call it. they speak to us about cars and big houses and iphone tens. but our parents tell us more devastating stories, ones of gas masks and green winds and melting flesh. it makes me feel indifferent to the above, honestly.
but there's this one countryside lady: ms. smith. she tells me of days of fresh air, the smell of wet grass on a summer morning, and how beautiful the world really is.
she convinced me.
it was after lights out. the guards were asleep and i swiftly unlocked the door. the door that led to the above. the door that hadn't been touched for 100 years or more. i flew up the stairs and went outside.
there was a sickly, green fog. the wind seemed to cut through my pale skin. and i breathed it all in. i felt the toxic air in my bones. it shook my body with a burning sensation and sent waves of shivers down my spine. i let it fill me and engulf me, never stopping, no matter how hard the pain was, because this was my only chance.
i fell to the ground, dead, soon after.
it was the most beautiful thing i have seen.(less)
The bad feeling in my bones didn't leave for days. I wanted to tell her about it but I couldn't. She couldn't know that about me or she would leave as fast as she could pack and call a cab. She was a very efficient packer. I would have(more) to carry this by myself.
Children are precious things with which I have always had a a very uneasy relationship. I can't tell them what to do - take an adult role in full knowledge of the world and lay down the law as if to a dog. I had to let them have their own volition and watch them do as they would, intervening only in the case of proximate physical harm or property destruction. I think most mothers and care givers sense this about me and don't trust me fully.
No-one really took responsibility for the children by the lake.
Pain so deep
I can feel it down to my core
My legs, my arms, back and in my bones
She kicked my ass
All I want to do is lose weight
My trainer, via youtube, did what she's supposed to do
But I feel the burn in m(more)y bones!(less)
Lovino could feel the music reverberating in his very bones. The soft strum of a guitar, the melodic voice with that maddening Spanish tilt. It drove him wild. Antonio would often sit up against that tree on summer afternoons, lazily tapping his foot as he strummed something along, pants(more) rolled up and bare feet hardly making a noise against the grass.
He remembers when he’d watch him as a kid, peeking from the corner. Now he just slides up next to him, occasionally humming along, occasionally even getting up to dance. But today he just leans against the tree as well, eyes falling shut as he inhales deeply. It smells like fresh dirt and sweet wine, smells that he long ago started to associate with the Spaniard. It’s comforting and a slice of home for him, so he lets out a pleased sigh, letting his head fall back lazily.
Antonio strums a little slower as he leans over to kiss soft, dark curls, singing something sweetly into Lovino’s ear. It’s one of the few times Lovino doesn’t bother to push him away, even letting himself smile slowly at the tickle of the other’s warmth breath against his ear.
Soon the sun starts to set and Lovino sings a few lazy lines as well, drunk off the summer heat and Antonio’s voice.
Let it sink in quietly, with not much of a fuss. Absorbs, dissipates, gets swallowed up completely. Like nothing.
Push a pulse darkly, throb a thought so red.
Skinned. Corrupts and corrodes soft, warm, tender flesh.
Muscle memory makes it hard to stand still.
Doesn't hurt at all.
Gentle(more) waves push through to the core. Hollow riverbeds, sorrow creases.
To the pink, to the brown, to the grey.
To the white.
I felt it late one night. Just this insidious slithering feeling, coming from somewhere in the vicinity of my body. I let it go, since after a couple moments, it ceased. I went to sleep, deciding to check and see about it in the morning.
When I got up,(more) I checked where I thought the slithering feeling had come from. There was nothing there, at all. No stretched skin, no marks of any kind. I started to think that maybe I had just imagined it, and then I felt it again. This crippling pain coming this time from my left arm.
I looked down at it and there was nothing there, and then I felt a snap, and I yelled out in pain.
I was taken to the hospital, and tests were done. When the doctors and results came back, it was discovered that I had broken my arm, or to be more exact, something in my arm had broken it. They had checked it out while resetting the bone, and found that my bones were a strange hollow network of tunnels. Apparently, there was something moving around in the bones, and it was not leaving. They tried to find it on X-rays, couldn't see it past the bones. And, they couldn't lure it out. Every bone they could check, they did, and they were all hollow, and marked with ridges, like the creature was crafting the interior of my bones to suit it's needs.
I was scared, worried that one day, it would decide it had had enough of my life, and would puncture my brain, or my heart, or anything.
I lived like that for years. Slowly, I realized something much worse: It wasn't going to kill me. It was going to keep me as its home, forever.(less)
i feel it, i feel it, i feel it in my bones and i just dont think i can hold it anymore the river is rising flowing out of me and im coming alive, coming alive im gunna dance and sing and move my feet and i forget the(more) rest of the lyrics(less)