#31

This is really...horrendous. Seriously. I wasn't feeling it. It was like...blehh. Freestyle, 2:36 minutes, in the topic "what comes to mind when you picture the grim reaper dancing the waltz?"

"Waltz" On May 14, 12:34 AM

A black veil
sweeping over wooden laminate,
and his partner, an angel
in shimmering costume of
bright light and warm snow.

Black and purple fires, lick at the couple's feet,
as they twist and turn
and glide
in each other's arms.

Love and hate can't exist
without each other
and we, the audience
perceive that this dance is beautiful
as the two forces in our mind
control each other
balancing each other
as they sway to the rhythm of the waltz
they dance to

#30

Now...I'm embarrassed about this one. This one SUCKS...well, no, it doesn't suck. But what it's about SUCKS! On AP it says the title is "Boy in Mind" but I'm changing it on here to "Get Out".

"Get Out" on May 13, 12:39 AM

No, get out of my mind

you stumbling, bumbling, mumbling fool.

It doesn't have a door, so you're trapped

but I have no idea how you got in

I suppose you crawled in,

sleepwalking through the windows in my eyes.

I have no idea how you got there,

and you don't know how you got in.

Did I dream you up

for me to long after?

No. You exist. I'm sure of that.

How?

Your words that take no notice

of me cut me like a blade

your tongue is a sword, a

rapier that pierces my heart

and you've made me cry.

You're unaware,

but get out!

At times, I don't want you in there

but sometimes, I paint pictures

and write stories of you

though it's embarrassing for me to admit.

Get out!

#29

Enough with the Emo-sounding poems! This one's cheery, I think. Oh, and written in Freestyle, 3:56 minutes, in the topic, "Life according to me"

"life" on May 12, 9:51PM

I think there's a purpose,

but you may say that there's darkness,

which, yes, there may be

but there's always that one skylight

cutting a rectangle through this

blackness that lets heavenly sunlight

fall and shine.

it exposes the dirt, and exposes the grime

life is a circle, not a triangle

nor a square

if you don't believe so, you'd be squared

because life is made of cycles

and as its light goes into your eye

in conic images received by none

other than an orb of

green, blue, red, purple, or brown

and the in betweens of

emerald, hazel, pink, and caramel

each dotted with a black spot that receives this light.

life is a folder, crammed with photos

memos, tests, and memories

it is a scrapbook of pasted images

and a window of rolling film

it is the air we breath, and the sorrow

when one passes on

that is life, and it is mine

it is yours, it is theirs

it is ours

to share.

#28

This poem is for an English Assignment. It's about me, and this is the actual original, but I had to cut it short to please my teacher.

"Bio Poem" On May 10, 11:46PM (I didn't choose the name, that's just what it's supposed to be called.)

Vera Karlotta

Feisty

Contradicted

Depressed

Blessed

Sister of none,

is one so lonely in this world.

Who loves the wind that cleans the air,

that sweeps leaves and caresses cheeks;

The books that turn their pages

telling stories of old wives tales and

poetry that sucks you in, like a portal to another world –

the world of one’s soul;

and music when on full blast,

or when faint sounds hang from a thread in your ear

the jagged pattern of riffs and chords

as well as the smooth melodies of hushed voices.

Who feels depressed a third of the time,

crazy a half of the time,

and hyper a sixth of the time

Who needs to take a moment or two

to search the tip of her tongue for those long-lost words,

and needs a giant teddy bear to secure and fall asleep with.

Who needs some art and crazy visuals in life,

without taking desperate measures…

who needs freedom.

Who gives the time to those in need

and the service to those who’ve fallen...

and even to those who are too lazy to get up

for a glass of water.

Who fears ninja thieves who come to

steal, kill, and destroy her heart

and those treasures she calls her loved ones.

Who fears the giant whirlpools that result from the pool’s unplugged drain that will eat her up like dirt in a vacuum, to take her to several other dust bunnies.

And who fears the night, when gunshots reign, and disaster falls, leaving the city’s families nearby in a shroud of mourning when the dawn approaches in the next day.

Who would like to see someone to get up

and help out from time to time,

and a giant library stacked with bookshelves,

scented with the fragrance of wizened and ancient books;

as well as for her dreams to become a reality, and solid clouds in the form of cotton balls to float near the ground and carry her away.

Resident of the city of influence,

The divine city of not-so-heavenly hosts,

Los Angeles, California

Cordeta

#27

This is a rant. Idk how I was feeling when I wrote it. It's just...about certain people who have put me on a pedestal, which is actually far from where I belong.

"Compare Me" On May 6

You think I'm quiet, ha!

My laugh roars like a thousand rolls of thunder

and echoes awkwardly in a silent hall of poets

where a head teacher shushes me down backstage

You think I'm smart, yeah right

The electricity emerging from my brain,

the circumvolutions of my mind may be depths compared to you

but I am only average, making you less more so...you're flat

You think I'm talented, but you haven't seen anything.

Honestly, does a sheet of paper with pretty images drawn on it

and with beautiful melodies emerging from it...

is there a blind over your eyes and a funnel covering your ears?

You like, yet you're kind

you give me hope, yet your lies make me hopeless

You assume, but your assumptions are crippled...lame

You don't really know me, you know who I pretend to be

or rather, you've never seen me before,

not really.

You make me laugh

when you put me on a pedestal

and your people say "that's who I want you to be!"

Well, you've never talked to me

you've never seen me

you've never been around me...

the real me

You guys just really don't know me well.

#26

This is...sad. It's me being depressed, though not emo and suicidal. It's just sad. Because I got dissed. :(

"Fade" on April 1, 6:15 (though was actually written a few days before...the April 1 thing is just when I posted it on AllPoetry...)

Talent is a gem,

a sapphire tear in the eye

of its beholder.

It is the gold trophy prize

in this race -- this race

where we clamor and climb

over obstacles, towards goals...

that race we call by its name.

That race which we call "Life."

Talent is the thing I long for --

the thing that which,

if freed, would ever fly so freely.

Talent lies in each of us,

in each is a pool of untapped oil

that brings riches to our very person...

Except mine.

Mine is caged, chained, choked

...disengaged, drained, cloaked

Mine hides inside an iron mask

that veils things so young and fresh

What you call "untapped potential"

is really shame.

Shame of this stake that drives

through me, piercing my heart

and you who pounds the hammer

ever so wickedly,

only hoping to break open the lock

of this suppression.

I warn you, for my secrets are kept,

not in my heart but in another cage,

though this, built of bars that one friend

or a stranger (but most likely the latter)

could peer in, and see.

See the cloudy, black spheres

of my very being,

containing the thoughts, containing the feeling

sheltering my world from you.

This is where I lie.

Though an outer veil encases me,

shields me, much like an artificial membrane

allowing things to surpass

I am a fake, though not plastic

but perhaps I am a soft cashmere to fall on

or a shiny taffeta for decoration --

pasted on some Styrofoam base

of a head...body...limbs...

And I could paint this base to match that fabric

of my fabricated self,

losing all that is me in the process...

That is something, if my hopes are correct,

you would never allow to happen.

Yet as the matter before us lies

and a bridge is yet to be built,

back down a moment,

let me

Fade

to

Black.

#25

I had fun writing this one. Mostly because it's full of double meanings that are for me to know, and you to enjoy, because you don't know what the heck I'm talking about. It sounds funny, and that's the part you should enjoy. It's kinda long.

"Logorrhea" on March 24, 12:22AM

Sing me a song.

Guide my hands

sprawled out over ebony and ivory

the little keys that tap taut strings

somewhere deep inside.

Pop! A message blows,

hurling news at an open window.

An orange light flickers, catching my eye.

Make me cry, pull me down, I'm going with you.

Make me laugh, build me up...

maybe I'll stand on mountains

A beating heart beside two music notes

sadly, isn't the way for me

But I smile, I laugh, I'll enjoy it.

Someday, someway, somehow.

We'll sway to beats

toe sound waves

to color.

We'll jump to the wires of whitecaps

and G-forces, I forbid you gravity to bring me down

back to you.

I am not a tetherball to be swung through the air on a chain

hit after hit only to wind myself around a stick,

rigid and cool...damp from morning dew

while silly children sing playground songs around me

like Indians reenacting their lives around a totem pole.

I am spiritual, neither wind nor air

nor the very laughter of brooks as they stumble over rocks

that once came from boys' hands, as they attempted to skip

one jump, two leaps, three skips, four hops, five...SPLASH

A roaring waterfall pours onto my head

it's called a shower, not a waterfall at all

I let myself be cleaned

smoke and haze wash over my mind

I slip on this rock slicked wet

so smooth, so white

ceramic.

Like your face, where it's chipped

and cracked in places

when toddlers eat leaded paint

of off crackling walls

leaking with water damage

Red pants, I see

and green pants there

floating, bobbing up and down.

Lonely and afraid in this big world we call home,

yet look above you and feel

so small as the revolving ceiling fan spins

like planets around a light.

A ball of gas that orbits around

in cold nothingness, much like your heart

though no light, no provider of heat

could make it a happy place.

Is that why you're so bitter?

Like ripe, pink grapefruits

prior to being dipped in salt and sugar

or maybe honey.

Honey on my lips is water to my soul

but honey is sticky, and water is not.

Water saves lives you know,

yet two dozen wings flew to make

the very honey which relaxes you

so much.

You're an abyss, I wish

for me to push my problems off a cliff

into your depths and never be buried

yet, the sound of a distant crash never comes.

You are an abyss

Your tongue is lava

hot, burning like the rocks that explode

before they take their cool,

up and out before reaching the ground

which, when they meet, they crumble.

At least they have a brief life, unlike I

who, as of this moment, lays back,

flat out, laid to dry,

And I'll cry...of boredom.

#24

This. Is a rant.

"Locutions, Solutions" on March 20, 9:38 PM

I cry

I laugh

I sing

I shout

Dance

Slump

Walk

Jump

I'm sad

I'm mad

Crazy

Sane

I am full of opposites

And unending ends

I am a walking oxymoron

Breathing oxygen that supports the oxen

back in my homeland.

I'm flat. I'm platonic

Yet, I am horribly, terribly,

utterly moronic

at times.

You know me as genius,

you know me as friend

you know me as madman

will this insanity end?

You see blacks and whites and yellows and browns

I see blues and purples and greens and reds.

I say what I mean, you mean what you say

They're not the same thing.

I feel like going far away

for where I come from, lines are broken.

The sky is fallen because gravity pulls down clouds

leaving puddles of heavenly tears cascading into sewers

The clean, sewers that purify...soon enough, we'll be drinking

purified cloud juice that fills our heads with daydreams and the like.

But that'd take too long.

For now, I'll flee.

I'll flee from these faces staring at me.

Who, at the time, knew not what they'd become

But now, looking back, that girl and I are one.

But, unlike her, I know what's heading towards me.

I am the impossible.

#23

This is a really emo poem, after a friend and I had a bad conversation. It lead me to tears. It's suuuper-emotional.

"Pierced" on March 17, 2:55 AM

Tears fall too easily
when nestled in the soul
when dampened breaths heavy with sighs
condense and eyes leak storms into oceans,
puddles that surround me

Tears fall when you speak
Jealousy, rage...
they're all chained down to me
I'm a prisoner,
but you don't seem to realize that.

A dampened mood is constricting
and wails and screeches
like cat's meow when angered


Bowls of ice catapult towards me
sharp swords of icicles break off their branches
and pierce me

Right. There.
In the heart, much like Cupid's arrow,
though it's archer is not blind
nor is it a baby who knows of such things

Tears fall easily...
especially when you're a ball
curled in a dark corner
or perhaps, sprawled all over,
pensively clutching at the roots of your hair
in agonizing thoughts
as you lean against a wall
and pound your head on it.

Why, why, why?
Fits of rage are thunderstorms and clouds
in my thoughts.
Jealousy is a high tide that drowns me
I can't swim.
Love...it's a calamity, a malady that ails me, it chokes me.
I am a target for such things,
that is why archers pierce me with their icicle arrows
and their bows of wild branches.

Come, bind my wounds,
though you know me not.
I'll assure you, there's more to the tip of the iceberg
when you peer down into murky saltwater
A lot more is hidden,
all of which can strike against you
like a snake, jabbing at it's opponent
or it can abrade you and sting you
bring you down perhaps, like the Titanic.

Oh act like you're high and mighty.
Why should I care, if you don't take the time
to really dig deep.
I'm an ammonite, coiled up through years
maybe millennia under dirt, though not as long...
I am a pearl you must dive and crack an obscuring obstacle for
I am not transparent, but if you want me to be, I can.
However, when I do reveal myself,
when I do take off this mask
I fear you won't recognize me.

So why tears, why?
Why must you play on these slopes
that are my cheeks?

#22

This next one is about a character who is oppressed. And I used a ton of prompts for this, but unfortunately the contest was deleted. Stupid contest-holder...>.> -mutters- AAnyway. It's a challenge, and I used a ton of pictures, but yeah.

"Find Me" on March 13, 5:23PM (Obviously, I need to catch up on my updates...not that anyone's reading...)

Standing alone in a gloomy courtyard,
darkened by clouds obscuring sunlight's warmth
A towering building looms over me
a bell tolls, each chime resounds,
hangs in the air.
A shrill scream tears the foggy air
Chains clank, bars rattle

All this when loving fog lifts me,
We wave apart the clouds,
fan them to distant lands

Light shines through the sky
leaving hearts in its wake,
speaking heart-shaped holes through the fog.
Then I fall...
For you.

I, behind bars, peer at green eyes
glowing with envy...
as I realize that you, not I am imprisoned.

What's this? I see...
you've fallen for me as well
so find the key to me
My heart is yours --- is anyone
for those who strive to try,
to survive through a foggy maze,
not sparkling with heart-shaped cutouts of light,
pasted into the sky.

Dig into the pile of keys and find one,
just one. The one whose handle's encrusted
with broken glass, due to many times shattered.
Block the obstacles, and find it, like a needle in a haystack.
Carry it to this lock, and we'll see
if this not-so-open book will tell you her story.

Pictures used: (by the way, these are all from people on DeviantArt)

#21

I'm telling you, I'm losing it again. The next few posts are going to be horrendous.

Actually...no, wait, yes. Yes, horrendous, indeed. (At least it's nothing like my old old old poetry as can be seen on AllPoetry-- hey, no, don't look me up, please, don't. There are things you do NOT want to see. It's...aww damn, it's horrible. Like, do me a favor, and look in the mirror. My old poems, are worse than what you see. Like...REALLY, REALLY, HORRIBLY...A LOT WORSE...because you're beautiful! [Ehh...it's Love Month for Squishi Clan, I'm supposed to give a compliment. But please, take it personally.] So yeah, horrible poetry, here we go!)

"Just One" On March 11, 10:33 PM

One touch,

we brush

arms that one day when we sat

side by side, clapping and jumping around

with the music that ever so wildly

unbinds our souls

A split second,

your shoe tapped against mine

we pulled back,

as if electrocuted.

Intoxicated, I'm drunk

my heart drenched, my mind painted

with worshipful images of you

My heart races

I'm cold at night

Rain falls through

this broken umbrella you hold for me.

But why?

Why must you ignore me so

still, I have to endure every fleeting glance.

I wish to look back

but my eyes are windows to my souls,

and one glance

one split second our eyes meet

from a blunt chocolate brown

to a crystal pool of amber syrup

two gazes meet

one secret emerges

But why?

Why is one hug

innocently laid upon another

from your arms to hers...

why is that a dagger that pierces my skin

like hail pounding on me

and wind tearing at my hair

Just one.

One touch,

a brush,

a tap,

a glance,

a hug....

while one world comes crashing down

on a single me.

Yeah...see, there's this guy that's sort of...taking up most of the hard drive in my mind, if you will. And he's like a virus, and I don't want him popping up everywhere, but he does, and it's not really annoying (actually, it kinda is, because the thought of him makes me forget what I'm trying to do...it's more like, distracting), but I'm like sooo crazy about this whole issue that you'll see more poems 'bout this dude.

Oh, and the prompt is: "Its just a peck. Why is my heart pounding?"- Yura from "Honey Hunt"

#20

"Glitter" on March 8^th 2010, terribly early in the morning. (<-- This is in the words of AllPoetry, not mine. The poem, of course, is mine.)

A spark ignites

emanates from a tiny candle

lit from a match

of paper and cardboard and a tiny little tip

white or red, whichever you prefer

friction struck on emery like sandpaper

and burnt sand, which makes glass

is transparent,but is mutilated coral

when it first started

chewed on by parrotfish

protected by polyps with tons of swaying arms

that branch out like trees, but these arms move

and sting the nosy fingers who touch the creatures' mouths.

Mouths that eat and mouths that chew

I bid you adieu,

but how can I, for my mouth is on my face

and in it a little crater, which leads to a hose

which, like a snake moves in undulating motions.

Food, go down, I command you,

But I choke and sputter

and spit it out.

The mucous surrounds like frozen sap

stuck under a branch of a pine tree

who inhales carbon and exhales oxygen

for us to breathe, making us free

emancipating us from our ball-and-chain slavery

from this love that binds us to the ground

and pins us to this chair

and our lover sees us, fascinated...

in our state, thrashing in despair,

he does nothing but stand there.

Love is patient, love is kind

love makes me blow my mind

Love is sparkly, love is shiny

Love is like seasalt, briny.

Love glitters for those who reflect

a dazzling light for friends, imperturbed.

Written in Freewrite section, 8:32 minutes. Uhmm. It was in a topic called "Glitter." You must be wondering where all this came from "Glitter." I'll give you a hint: it starts with spark. Another hint? It ends with shininess. I tried to incorporate vocab. Tell me if I failed, yes?

#19

My muse again. I was in art class looking at pictures my teacher took in Central Park during vacation. My teacher's like me, he takes pictures of random pretty things people don't catch all the time. I love how the shot of a camera can make us double-take at things we happen to pass by and ignore everyday. Sad to say, nature is very often taken for granted. Naturally, I was in school...though, the uniform thing I can't say where I got it from...I let my mind wander, yes, through this poem, it's supposed to do that. Uhmm...enjoy? xD

"Glints" on March 3, 2010

It's your loss

but you're not mad

or sad...

you don't even feel bad

for plaid ---

it's absence on your uniform,

leaving behind textiles of blue and white,

but not a dreamy shade, oh no.

Navy blue lies in your midst ---

the color of night, of unknown depths.

A grey white sits on your chest

and rests

at the best place above your heart,

idly tuning the clouds a bright, cotton white

that shines across the sky,

gleaming, reflecting the sun's platinum

liquid metal, cool and pouring

not red hot but a flowing silver

separates into spots of rainbows that fill the

blacks and grays and whites,

spilling not a drop of paint

outside the lines.

Wind blows, the natural eraser

and wipes the slate clean

and whisks off the color of things,

leaving behind only two-dimensional outlines

of trees in parks and sand on beaches,

to start over again.

Like a child coloring,

purple trees, orange tides that glisten

from the light of a black-light sun

on the run

from east to west

and all turns to black darkness with

pinpricks of a celestial light,

like a flashlight's beam through a thatched straw hat.

#18

This day just seems so eternal, but frankly, I must temporize, for my homework seems so varicose, like my personal Goliath, looming over me. If only I had a slingshot and a smooth stone from a nearby creek, but alas, a pencil and paper is what I'll need. If only I had a bow to string and shoot the pencil with at a distant sheet of paper far away. Unfortunately, that's not the way to tackle this malady.

Just a little rant/prose thing, practicing my vocab and stuff. I feel like I need to expand my vocabulary. I'll start writing some stuff using new vocabulary I've picked up, that is, if I've learned any. I'm becoming quite a Dictionary.com addict.

#17

This isn't me being dumped. It's just...written in the Freewrite section in 7 minutes and 19 seconds. The time is 6:18 LA time, but I'm in Florida, so it's 9:18...The topic was 'I Want.'

I kinda like how it turned out...

"Disposed" Written on February 24, 2010

I want breath

in this dizzying, heavy, place.

The aromatic coffee awakens me,

I long to taste it, only to dip my tongue in black bitterness.

I want to fly, but how can I?

For I have no wings, and airplanes need airfare.

I want money, but I can't be that shallow

The world existed without money before,

why can't we live without it now?

I want...life, but...

how can I long for something I already have?

I want to be noticed, but being noticed

is different from receiving love.

What is love?

Why do we need it?

Why does everyone have it?

...But me?

Surely it must be there,

along with everything else.

I want people. Yet I have to wonder why...

Why are people thrown away?

Like me. I'm just a concept now,

abandoned in the dump that is someone's life.

Go ahead, neglect me,

pretend I was never there.

It's okay, you know.

That's why I'm here.

For you to confide in,

to walk with,

to talk to,

to relieve your loneliness.

But why,why must you discard of me

dispose of me

leave me like I never was there

when I brought you up out of your sad days?

I am the reason you're here now.

So why would you progress, without ever looking back

and remembering those times we had together.

Don't you want me?

Well, here--

I want you,

so I won't stop trying.

Poems 13, 14, 15, and 16

I wrote four poems since my last update...and obviously, I keep forgetting/don't have the time to update, so I'm posting 4 of the last poems I've written in a super, ultra, mega post. :)

Okay, this first one is based on a relationship between a friend and myself in which I'm helping that said friend sort things out.

"Walk To Me" Written on February 12, 2010

Walk to me

take little baby steps

on your way to the light.

Walk to me

turn to me

trust me.

Why can't you

trust yourself?

bring yourself to be around others?

stop caring?

For once, just stop.

Just freeze

just fall back,

because I am there to catch you.

Why can't you realize that?

Trust me.

Talk to me.

I know you.

I see you

clearer than you see yourself.

Look in the mirror,

a muddy reflection blinks

back to your blank face.

Blubbering, bantering,

baffling, bawling,

blundering, blighting

Take a step back

and look at yourself.

Walk to me.

Don't look back.

Don't fall, or else I will catch you.

Walk to me.

Teeter on your feet.

Take a small step

Out of the darkness,

and run to the light.

This next one is based off of a fight between another friend and myself. We've worked it out, which is good.

"Reply", Written on February 14

Reply

Don't leave me hanging

by a thread

that which,

so easily broken

can crumble

Reply

Don't replace me,

eclipse me,

shadow me,

leave me crying.

It's alright, you know.

You're forgiven,

but don't hold this against me

when my tears drop into the ocean,

the pool of the million hearts you've broken,

don't go searching for it.

You claim you're in a triangle

feel like you have to choose

Don't put one on a pedestal

and level us out

You can balance us, can't you?

Reply

I don't wish to obligate you

to speak

I don't wish to chain you

to me

I don't wish to hurt you

though I have so many times before...

Broken pieces picked off the floor

glued together, reshaped, remodeled

are what friendships are.

Forgive me for crying,

I'm just hurt, that's all,

That you'd let me stumble

in the dark with no light,

so I'd crash and fall.

But falling was how we met,

how this love began.

You laughed while I cried,

cried while I laughed

But still hugged me,

comforted me,

and took me under your wing

of feathers so soft

and so cashmere rich

of sisterly feelings,

but life's a b***h.

So leave me,

go ahead

but come back,

for I'll miss you.

I'm not mad,

just sad

that you'd ignore me -

the things I have to say.

Fine with me,

don't return my call.

I'll just pen this

miserably,

so that you don't

have to

listen.

But I'll be standing

right here, should you

ever choose

to return.

Thirty minutes gone...

but I feel like I've lost you

forever.

This next is picture inspired and for a contest.

Tayo (As in, "Us" in Tagalog), Written February 20, 2010

I am an open book

a story leaps off the page

so take me in and read me.

Hold me

caress me,

swiftly turn the pages

get to know me.

I love this

I indulge in this.

this passion that I feel

as our mental bonds connect through time

and space.

A fall of roses cascades off my covers

weeping at the torn pages.

Cry pools of shining light for me,

my lover.

Shower me with gold that destroys my blundering way.

Guide me

get to know me.

Read me, take me in.

Sense me

as I sense you

as we cuddle in this rocking chair.

So love,

read me a story.

Our story.

The last of the poems is...from my muse, dedicated to my camera, my beaten, scratched up, yet ever-so-faithful Canon Power Shot SD550. xD

"Camera", Written on February 22, 2010

Wondrous little box

with your rounded window

over your rectangular screen

composed of little dots and smaller squares

of color and light.

Your round, eye never ceases to amuse me

The memories your spacious mind holds

fits onto a little card, slips into slits.

Your knobs and buttons

turned and pushed repeatedly.

I'm amazed you're never driven crazy.

How is it, you're still alive and functioning,

when I've dropped you and let you go so many times?

How are you still breathing,

when I've suffocated you carelessly in dust?

Why do your battle scars never pain you

when your face scratched up against the rocks

because I let go of your string?

I don't take care of you enough, friend,

yet you serve me and work for me willingly.

You and I paint images together

and we hold rays of sunlight in the palms of our hands.

I rejoice when you catch rays for me

though you have no hands...or arms for that matter.

We're a good team , friend.

Reflect for me what I see in you,

and we'll take pictures together,

forevermore.

That's it for now. :)

Oh, and please note that technically, while starting them (except Walk To Me) it was the day before...I just sleep really late. All of these were written before sleeping...so...yeah.