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Lost MemoriesLost Memories:
What happens to those memories lost long ago?
Do they burst into flames or turn into snow?
Do they manifest into memories for others untold,
Or do they come about as flowers with petals that unfold.
What happens to all of those memories that have been forgotten?
Did they slip into a child's dream,
Or a best friend's nightmare?
Have they been hibernating like bears,
Or falling asleep?
Or are they still sitting in the back of our minds waiting to get back on their feet...
Every Sacred Inch of YouA sleek and shiny
Shimmer of senses
The second I conceded
I clearly see,
Locks falling gently
Reddened regally by thee,
At your decree,
They do adorn
The silken smooth and cream white
Neck from whence my eyes cannot be torn,
I fear I'm not yet born,
The petty prattle I mistook for 'love',
Now viewed with scorn,
For what was picturesque
Had no more depth
Than dirty limericks,
And now my gaze be drawn by thine,
And slim are the chances I'll find my spine,
And speak what lines
And heart, do cruise together,
Each tugging at the tether
That binds forever,
By eyes of briar-green
Sap that lie before mine,
Batting lashes lash me
Like a little lost puppy I pine,
Before I trace a journey 'cross the bridge
O'er that crested ridge
Down to your lips,
Whose cupid's bow
Deals me a piercing blow,
I can't taste bliss,
I can still miss,
For comfort in those arms
Of yours I've never known
The Parlour IncidentOne day in July, I believe it was, I found myself sitting with several acquaintances in Christopher's parlour. It was one of those deliciously lazy afternoons which only the summer in her full glory can bring. The room had a wan, listless light to it, relaxing the other guests and myself as we languidly chatted over tea and crumpets. The air was also sluggishly heavy, dulling the senses to a slowly-blended calm engendered by the heat of St. Othniel's southerly climate.
At length, after much stimulating conversation, Christopher stood, producing a book of sheet music.
"What do you all say to a bit of music?" he asked.
"Certainly," I answered.
"Oh yes, please do darling!" Tabitha exclaimed, "he's quite the maestro."
Christopher laughed, shaking his head.
"Now, now love, I'd not go that far."
He strode over to the piano as the other guests urged him on. Ida entered the room bearing a merrily steaming teapot and more crumpets.
"More tea sirs?" she inquired, shooting sideways glances at her
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More