

PiecesI cried for you and my tears ran gold and wet down my cheeks, freezing my heart. I held it for you, cupped it in my hands and watched the blood spill, mixed with saline. What I've given can not be returned, what I've lost to you is yours. The pieces of me that I allowed you to strip away with your eyes and your smile. They are yours and always have been. And always will be. You said your goodbyes; I'm still saying mine. Even from here, I am still losing pieces to you.Pieces


SalineI called you and there you were, created by my tears, melting away moment by moment. I didnt know how to hold on. I still dont know how to let go. Time has nothing to do with it. Time is unkind.Saline
Water. Salt. Both have their ways of burning. The crust of saline mucking up my eyes reminds me. They are my remnant of you. Of that day.
I hate it and I hold it and it is cradled, cobwebbed and frozen, an amateur snapshot of life, of me, of
But how could you know. I let you melt away.


UnspokenThere is strength and weakness hand in hand, found inUnspoken
subtleties that scream so loud I can hear them when Im sleeping.
Its going to happen. Someday. Eventually. Consuming everything that should and shouldnt be.
Anticipation and dread. Failed restraint, bindings will break loose and lose meaning. Understanding that burns and leaves scars.
Something to remember me by.


ApplesSomething crunched beneath my foot. Glancing down, I lifted my foot off the now half flattened apple lying on the pavement. I wiped its pale flesh off my shoe and onto the nearby grass. Another apple lay a few feet away. And then another. Maybe half a dozen red apples lay scattered around me, but there was no tree within even a block of where I was standing. How strange. I picked up the nearest whole apple, and as I bent down to do so, another apple whizzed just inches above my head. I ducked a little lower, staring toward the source I thought it might have come from. A crooked brown fence and toffee colored house stared baApples
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View my art account and my photography accounts as well!
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Does time exist? Or is it a face of reality that has taken place as a result of our own logic?
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~ Akiko
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... for once, we feel as though we can love ourselves, and sometimes we grow to understand ourselves through that other person, but then we also want to make excuses for them when they aren't the right person or have flaws
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Comma splices make me cry.
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Some days I write those words, others they write me.
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Comma splices make me cry.
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