TempestRose• Show poetry

"Are you okay?"
She was standing in a corner, silently watching the young bodies around her. She didn't see him walk up - the music was too loud, the bodies too distracting. Despite the surprise, she heard him loud and clear.
"Yeah... yeah... I'm just resting." The boy looked down to meet her gaze, and there was no doubt that she was lying. She'd been standing there for at least fifteen minutes, long enough to make a warm spot on the wall, and long enough for the rest of her to get cold. It was chilly in the large room, but no one noticed. No one, of course, but the people standing still.
"Okay, that's fine. But when are you going to start dancing? You're missing the good songs." He was right, of course; the past three had been amazing, beats a girl could really get nasty with. She fleetingly wished she had a girl to get nasty with, but quickly returned her mind to the conversation.
"I know, I'm working up to it." He was steadily closing in on her, getting closer so he didn't have to scream over the music. Or, perhaps so he could smell her perfume... her mind wandered.
"You can always come with me. It's easier to get started when you have a partner." He smiled that precious smile, the one that always made her sigh inside. He's heard that sigh once or twice, on the rare occasions that she let it slip - a sigh full of longing, full of angst, but most of all, a sigh full of self-pity. She hated the sound of it.
He could tell what she was thinking, what she was about to say. She secretly prided herself on being able to hide her feelings, but she could never hide anything from him; and while she hated being weak that way, she would exploit any weakness if he'd only take notice.
"Look, don't just say no. We don't have to go out in the middle, even though that's where you'd be most comfortable -"
She didn't give him a chance to continue, she was too afraid that he'd win. He always won her over.
"And what makes you think that? That middle is crazy, I know that much."
"Well yeah, of course it's crazy. That's why it's easier - you don't have to think about anything, you just move. No one's looking at you, they're too busy losing themselves."
She hated that she couldn't argue with him. Why does he want to insist on this? Why does he want to get me on the dance floor? He's got to know how afraid I am, how much I want to disappear and not be seen by anyone. He sees everything else, why can't he see this??
"Look, I've actually been thinking that I should go back to my room. It's already late and I'll have to get up early for -" She trailed off quietly, even after she'd made up her mind to resist. She hadn't been keeping eye contact, but when she glanced back at his face, she saw how disappointed he was. He enjoyed social occasions so much, and she knew he became frustrated when she wasn't having fun. But she couldn't help feeling uncomfortable, and she really didn't appreciate the idea that he felt responsible for keeping her complacent. She didn't need a babysitter, or an event planner. She didn't need anything.
Still, even while she was telling herself tales of defiance, she couldn't help but be soft toward him. She was his best friend, as much as she denied it, and it killed her to hurt him.
Acting on this, and against her better judgement, she closed the distance between them and put her arm on his shoulder. This was intimate, too intimate, but she let her lips brush his ear as she whispered, "I'll stay, Mattie, if you really want me to." She felt his hand very lightly on her waist, and she smiled against his cheek. She knew it felt too good, that it was going to hurt later, but that was all okay. It was worth it to feel his heat, and to know that in that moment, his smile was just for her. Her heart throbbed in response.




I hate being in love.
Ugh, boys.
But it IS worth it. The heat, that's worth it.






January 15, 2009

We were like, best friends.
"Yeah girl, you wish you were as hot as all this!"
"Hurry up loser, you're making me way late!"
"Dude. He would totally say yes to you, but you would not say yes to him."
Yeah, pretty much.
But sometimes I wondered.
~ ~ ~
Barnwarming, early November. Ten degrees outside, and dropping by the hour. Oh yes, we wore layers.
But we shed them. Yeah, the temps were falling outside, but the clothes were falling right to the gym floor. Music way loud, dance floor packed way tight, jamming to this year's Top 40 and too much country to mention.
We were high; high on the music, high from the motion, high on Mountain Dew and Skittles. High on each other.
We flowed. With the boys, with the girls - just close your eyes and feel the music, let it move you. "Just jive girl, just let go..."
Hip-hop turns into Strawberry Wine - time for a drink, as she touches her fingers to mine and leads me to the refreshment table. We share a soda, suck it down while the couples get cozy on the floor.
Then it's over and everyone's kissing, the bass booms back to life and she drags me to the floor. I struggle, bringing a commanding grin to her lips. Suddenly we're moving, one piece of the shivering organism. That feeling never fades - echoing off each young body, coming back to hit you square in the chest.
We danced. Hours we danced. The music never stopped, never let up. Slow songs came and went, a new partner each time - trading friends back and forth. Elements of innocence in a night of grinding hips.
It felt like days since we started moving. We felt it in our feet, in the sweat puddling at the small of our backs. Not tired, never tired - building our energy with fizzy drinks and candy stolen from each other's pockets.
Then she changed. She wore her eyelids half-closed, and her hips began to move in just a certain way - her song was playing.
She held my hands, pulling me softly - gently urgency. "Come with me," as she led me behind the DJ's stand, toward the locker rooms. It was dark - the strobes didn't reach here, but the music did. It reverberated off the concrete, surrounded us as she backed toward the wall, pulling me against her. The beat was strong; she rocked her hips, slipping her thigh between mine.
Her soft hands rested firmly at my waist - I mimicked the touch, letting my fingers splay down the back of her jeans. I suddenly felt the heat of her body, realizing how hot we were after the hours of constant motion; it crept up into my cheeks along with the thought.
She twisted her fingers into my belt loops, pressing her nose against my neck; I felt her breath behind my ear, below my chin. I shivered, even as the heat rolled of our skin. She responded only with a soft note, escaping her lips more as a breath than a sound. I felt this too; suddenly I was no longer blindly dancing - I became aware of every move she made, and how it felt against my body.
As these realizations came, I resisted the urge to pull away, as well as the urge to press myself against her, to hold her against the wall and make it real. I thought, fleetingly, of the ways I could place my hands to make her moan - I missed a beat as I realized where my mind was, throwing us out of balance.
She stopped moving then, stood back from me and looked into my eyes as best she could. I barely heard her whisper, "Was it too much?"



Ughhh BY THE WAY I hate the way AllPoetry won't indent on the Author Pages.
/anger






“Heheheh, why thank you Will’um, it’s been a pleasure sittin’ in wit’cha; that girl o’yours sure knows how to put a pie together.”

“Thank ya Doc, I be sure to get’cha one just like her, if’n you’d ever be interested.”

“Nah, my Clemmy’d never go for that, too much comp’tichun. Thank ya kindly for the offer though.”

“Any time Doc, you just come back anytime.”

With that, the old man hobbled off the whitewashed porch, and William turned back into the house. Without sparing a passing glance through the sitting room, he continued toward the kitchen. He knew very well that his wife was under the oak tree outside, napping or having a book read to her. The only servant on the place allowed the ability to read was with the Mistress constantly, trusted with the talent only because she was a cripple, and his wife’s favorite.

“Bring me another piece a’pie, wouldja?” he called into the kitchen, followed by a prompt “Yussur.”

He puttered around the parlor for a few moments, but it didn’t take his girl long to show up with his plate. “Doc sure ‘preciated this here, said it did’n compare with his old lady’s. Not in them words, a’course. Y’know how he is.”

This brought a small smile to her lips; it was good to impress Master William’s friends.

“How ‘bout you head on back to the kitchen ‘en, fix yo’self a sandwich or sunthin’. Be good for ya. Make me one too while ya at it, now’t I mention it. Jus’ like yours.”

This last bit revealed how pleased he was with her today. He’d always been good to her, although he didn’t often feed her out of his own kitchen.

“Go’n then, fetch us somethin’ good. I be upstairs when ya get it put together.”

“Yessur, thank you sir.” She was beaming when she turned to the kitchen, and if her skin were any lighter, it would have shown more than just a faint flush. He still noticed, though; he always noticed.




(Hope you can read it x])
It's not supposed to sound as romantic as it does. At least, I don't think it's supposed to...








December 20, 2007

“Hey, let go!” she giggled and spun around, only managing to entangle herself further.
“Not until you give me my pen back, Zizi!” Sissy replied, holding in each hand a sleeve of the jacket that was so cleverly wrapped around her best friend.
“Nevarrrr!” Zi screeched, continuing to struggle despite the nearly hopeless entrapment. “It’s mine now!”
“Oh no you don’t, you little thiefer!” Before Zi knew what was happening, Sissy tackled her and had her pinned to the couch. Zi screamed in mock terror, gasping for air between squeals and giggles.
“You’ll have to pry it from my cold dead fingers!” she managed to squawk, and was immediately pounced upon. “Suit yourself!” came the reply and, straddling Zi’s legs, she began to tickle her mercilessly.
Another squeal and a seemingly endless stream of giggles erupted from the room. “Had enough yet?” Sissy asked mightily, and stopped just long enough to catch her breath, fully expecting Zizi to give in.
Zi had other plans, however, and she used the few seconds to push Sissy over, just enough to free herself.
“Who’s the fat cat now?!” she snickered, pulling Sissy down and laying on top of her, pinning her arms in the process.
“Noooo lemme go!!” She tried to pull away, but to no avail. “Fat cat is right, sheesh! You’re ‘bout to kill me, Fattykins!!” They burst into fits all again, as neither of them was an ounce over ‘stick-thin.’
Regardless of her foe’s seemingly easiness to overcome, Sissy silently admitted defeat by way of not struggling, and they both settled down. While she didn’t roll over, Zi did release her best friend’s arms, and they lay quietly together for several minutes.
It wasn’t long before quiet giggles materialized, however, as Zi had gotten rather comfortable and began rubbing her nose against Sissy’s neck. “You silly kitty,” she responded softly with a laugh, and lovingly petted her playmate. “Murrr...” Zi purred as Sissy began scritching behind her ears.
“You kids all right in here?” Zi poked her head up as her mother opened the door. The woman took no notice of the girls’ positions, though, as they had always been very close. It only became strange when they weren’t touching.
“Want something to eat? I’ve got stuff to make sandwiches, ham and turkey or grilled cheese-”
“Yeah!!” they interrupted simultaneously, as expected. The pair would eat themselves silly on grilled cheese sandwiches if given the opportunity.
“Sounds like a plan, but you’ve got to come make lemonade. Deal?”
“Sure thing!” Sissy replied, dumping her pal to the floor. She hit with a soft thud and whined loudly, feigning surprise. Sissy only laughed in reply, reaching down to help her up. Mom shook her head and, smiling, went back in to the kitchen, followed by two giggly girls.




I'm in love with these characters. They're what, 12 here? Something like that. No, it isn't a literary masterpiece, I just wanted to watch them play =] they're so cute, I can't help myself x3 This is the first of many with these characters, but I'm afraid to post the other ones... let's say, they're older in the other ones.






August 15, 2007

A giggle, two. Her face was peaceful, a baby giggling in her sleep. Mama always hates to wake the baby.
She sat gingerly on the bed, minding not to ruffle the blankets, even though the child had obviously not taken such care. She was flung rather haphazardly across the bed, the comforter and various pillows both under and surrounding her. Despite the chaos, she slept like an angel.
"My angel..." the girl whispered softly, trailing her fingers across the sleeping forehead, down the soft skin of her cheeks. Her better judgement would have stopped the hands there, but she allowed them to continue.
Lightly she traced down Baby's neckline, over her collarbone, between the naked breasts. She couldn't help but smile; her companion's body was so similar to her own, but she could never resist touching her. The girl's body held some magic that hers did not, an innocence, a beauty that she could never match. Love creates perfection.




Read it again, and you'll realize it's not actually about a little kid, and it's not actually about a mother.
It's deep, not perverted.
That is all.






I suddenly feel like I don't have anywhere that's mine. You know, somewhere online that I can just write what I'm feeling. I know, this is why people blog. But that's gay. And I used to do it here, before I told my friends about this page. And I can't do it on Facebook, cuz the whole world can see it. So. I'll just hide it here for a few days. Or hours. They don't come here anyway.
I miss having friends online. Except, online relationships suck. Like my current keyboard situation. Do you know how hard it is to type with your keyboard in your lap? And a dog biting your toe? Your infected toe???
Okay, so it's not infected. But it still hurts. And I need to change the bandage, after I take a shower... which I need to be doing shortly, cuz the guy is coming at 3 to look at a dog. I'll be glad to be rid of all the little furries. They all leave for the broker on Tuesday, and I better not have to go, cuz I have a date!
Okay, a date with Hannah. But still.
My wrists hurt, and I feel better now. So I'm gonna go.
Do Spanish or laundry or something.
Oh, my life!




Hey dudes. So, I realize I kinda miss doing this.
So here I am.
Just watched an awesome movie, Cocoon. Freaking awesome. I figured it'd be scary or something, cuz it's about aliens, but it was extremely sweet. It was about a bunch of old people, and when they swim with these alien pod things, it's like being in the fountain of youth. Frreaking sweet, right? That's what I thought.
Pups are going to the broker tomorrow, and I will not be accompanying them. It kinda really sucks, you know, the whole thing. But they'll end up somewhere good, they've got to. They're puppies, right? Who wants to hurt a puppy?
Okay, so I just realized that I don't want to think about people who want to hurt puppies.
Crap.
Anyway, the reason I'm not going (aside from the obvious) is that I'm going out with Hannah. Where? Beats me. But it's somewhere other than this house.
Do you realize I've been stuck in this house for like, ever?
It feels like that.
So yeah, I'm kinda sad cuz Dinosaur Comics is down... and I don't know why... and it hurts my heart =[ at least, it was down this morning, so I need to check it again. If I don't come back, you know what I'm doing.






Hey guys. I'm scared.
I'm going to Chicago for 10 days. Leaving Sunday morning. Gonna cry. Or watch Momma cry. Or both.
Watermelon Bash is Saturday night, thus we'll be going shopping that morning and headin to the Bash at 4. Gonna get some clothes, etc. Gonna get to bed late that night, and will have to get up early the next morning... ugh.
But, Mom insists that I'll have fun. She says that all the girls there will be just like me - modest, nerdy, insecure. And that, if there are snobby ones, it's because they got a 30 on their ACT and thought it was cool. I lol'd hard.
I've overpacked, dramatically. But I do that wherever I go. I hope they don't think I'm a snob for bringing so much stuff. (Towels, Lysol, iron, etc.)
I'll go to sleep now. Luh youu.








Hey guys. Been a while. I need this space.
Have you ever said something, meaning it in an entirely innocent way, and some fucktard takes it personally? And let's say you use this phrase on a daily basis, and peple think you're a creep or a stupid jerk just because they think you're saying something mean? Example. I'm gay. Okay, I said it. Everyone knows. Everyone. But hey, I use the word fag all the time. That's right. FAG. And guess what? I'm not using it in a hateful way. Who the hell would have thought? When I call you a fag, I'm not saying you're something nasty or dirty or perverted. I'm saying you're something sweet and lovely and worthy of hugs and butterfly kisses. Fucking lovely. A word I love to use to describe him. I bet that bothers him too, eh? Well fuck that. I adore him. And I think he's VERY sweet and lovely and worthy of all sorts of things. So if he wants to believe that I "think he's gay", well hell. That really hurts my feelings. Even if I deny that it does. What's so bad about being gay? And why the hell does he think I'd really think that, as well as I know him? Or maybe he doesn't think I know him that well, fuck I don't know. He makes it clear that he thinks my gaydar is "broken" anyway. We talk about chicks. But when it comes to guys, he thinks I'm a creep just because I like to say that gay guys are cute and awhh wouldn't it be so adorable if they hugged? or how much I love sensitivity and how 'faggy' that is. Yeah, faggy. Fuck him. I'm so fucking tired of being the lesbian. Has everyone forgotten that I like guys too? I'm not completely freaking illiterate when it comes to guys. And what the fuck does he have against chubby girls? Fuck that shit, and fuck skinny bitches whose asses he has his stupid little head shoved up. UGHHH.

Okay, I'm done being mad. I'll go cry now.









I want to
(I wish I could)



Take a drink someone offers me.
Cut my hair, wear short sleeves, paint my nails.
Hold someone’s hand.
Sit down without wiping the seat first.
Sleep with someone other than my dog.
Make real friends and keep them. Trust them.
Worry about my weight like all the other girls.
Go a whole day without washing my hands. Even a few hours.
Forgive people for smoking and drinking. Real people do that.
Eat junk food.
Sleep all the way through the night. Every night.
Kiss a black guy. Or just a guy.
Stop being so damn serious about making lists.
Censor the things I shouldn’t say, say the things I shouldn’t censor.
Play more, feel less.
Start biting my fingernails again. Normal people worry that way.






I make lists when I'm
scared.
lonely.
upset.

tired.












Somewhere between your heart and mine
There's a window that I can't see through
There's a wall so high it reaches the sky
Somewhere between me and you

I love you so much I can't let you go
And sometimes I believe you love me
But somewhere between your heart and mine
There's a door without any key

Somewhere between your heart and mine
There's a love I can't understand
It's there for a while then it fades like a smile
And I'm left in the middle again

Somewhere between your heart and mine
There's a window that I can't see through
There's a wall so high it reaches the sky
Somewhere between me and you



- Merle Haggard