

EightDo you remember being eight? Balmy hot summers, wading through the nettles. A plamful of racing snails, grasped too tightly With a sticky crunch. Caterpillars reared in greenhouse jars. The forgotten butterflies veiny wings, crumbling, unreleased. Skinned knees, ruby drops of blood Spattered onto the slick, melted tarmac. A fractious heat, skin itching The chalky smell of calamine lotion. Hiding in the scratchy barley, red rashed arms. Paddling in the stream Weed in mossy blankets tickling pink toes Catching sticklebacks in cupped hands Slipping down muddy dykEight


You Were HereI breathe on the glass And kiss the indentations Of your fingertips. They fade like ghosts Eroding into blankness.You Were Here
I lay on your side of the bed And lay still in the groove
of your body. It shapes itself to mine Melting around me.
I touch the pages of your books And feel the grease
of your touch. It evaporates like rain Rising in the air.
I breathe in your dust And savour the taste
Of your skin. It sinks to the ground Disappearing into the carpet.


HabitI remember. I remember every window, every door, every creaky floor panel. I remember the dripping of the rain, our constant, faithful companion, slicking down windows and plants until it seemed as though water and earth had combined to make some new element, drumming away, announcing its presence to the world. It was light and dark all at once, muting colors, melding them together; grays, blues, slate.Habit
I remember the house, its edges fading into the countryside as if the land were claiming it for its own. The land, the house, the house, the land; like an old habit too much instinct to break. Boundaries blurred throug


What Life We Had: SweetChileWhat Life We HadWhat Life We Had: SweetChile
We were always funny in that car-crash sort of way, you know? Like a train wreck, where no matter how nasty or ridiculous it got, you couldnt turn away. We were an icon of sorts.
Polar opposites. We were so completely different, we attracted each other. What was that your mother always said oh right, Opposites attract. Were living proof arent we?
You were deeper on an intellectual level, always seeing the world in shades of black and white. All you ever saw was the reality. I was more out-of-the-box. I could see the fine line of gray in between; and I
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A prayer for the wild at heart, kept in cages - Tenessee Williams
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"Hi...My names Chris.......and I'm a DeviantART addict."
"Hiiiii Chris."
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Member of ~Dramacon Club and D.A.G
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Don't forget my Scraps! [link]
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A prayer for the wild at heart, kept in cages - Tenessee Williams
a few months ago that you were watching
me. thanks for the new watch
xo!
shane
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an antique arms and armor expert
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