The A,B,C's of Literature
Welcome to the second edition of the A,B,C's of Literature.
Each week there will be 15 pieces of literature featured and also 2 deviants which are based on a theme or letter.
For this week, the themes are: Ballet, Body, Birth
She knelt down and laced up her shoes, gently winding the pink silk ribbon around her ankles. The studio was empty, and the only sound apart from her own breathing was the muted classical music that was being played in the background.
She preferred it this way. Being alone.
Taking in a deep breath, she crossed the polished wood floor, smoothing out the wrinkles in her leotard and skirt as she did so. She stopped in the centre of the room and, as a last reassuring adjustment, patted her hair. It was coiled on the top of her head in a tight bun, stiffened by hair spray, with bobby pins to ensure that no rebellious strands would loosen themselves.
Then she raised her arms, assuming what was known as Third Position, and begun.
Broken hearts and Ballet ShoesOf broken hearts and ballet shoes:thumb179070050:
Of things that come as such old news
For every tear that rolls down cheeks
For every picture that she doesn't keep
With all the hours that pass by
With every cloud up in that sky
When she knows that she knew right from the start
She'd wind up with a broken heart
Of broken hearts and crystal eyes
Of regrets about all those lies
For every moment that drags along
For every word of that sad song
With every heart-beating lullaby
With every second of her asking why
When she knows that she knew right from the start
She'd end up with a broken heart
bone bag ballet girlit's ten minutes in september and she is
praying with her eyes open to a god
she cannot see but that's okay because
she doesn't want him to see her either
i'm six feet behind and i'm watching a girl
with pink ribbon shoes cry over my boyfriend
and we're at a graveyard but all i want to
do is ask her if maybe she can dance for me
it's three flashes of lightning and i am
hurt and there is rain dripping on my
wounds and i just sit outside watching
the blood drip on the asphalt
she's still crying and i wonder if the
pretty white bones in her bag are his
or hers, but really, i just want to know
whether she's a ballet dancer or not
Away and TowardsAnd
as the last
of these ballet
the golden doorknob
that the sun
has shone upon
to get away..
the flip side"It is
to love your
She asked her
by at least
Don't get me wrong,
over my weight.
I can get
a hold of
I don't have an eating disorder.
I am not trying to lose weight.
I'm trying to gain.
"GAIN?!" you might be thinking,
but when you're 92 pounds and
5'3" or 5'4"
(I'm not exactly sure)
you may feel kind of...
in your own skin.
I would love to gain 10 or 15 pounds.
It is rather annoying when size 0 jeans are too big.
No one understands it.
But when I
was a child
my father's side of
told me I was too thin.
Where my friends
I have moderate breasts
and no ass.
I hear people complaining
"Oh, I wish I could find this in my own size."
Well I, emphasis on the I!, wish things were in
There are many "Plus Sized"
stores out there,
and "plus sized" sections in stores.
Recently Forever 21 created
"Faith 21" for plus si
What I like about You"What about this one? What happened here?" Her fingers traced the red lines running down my shoulder as her eyes gazed lovingly into mine.
"Doesn't count. And those are cleat marks, nothing new. It what you get for loving a rugby player." I smiled and stuck my tongue out lovingly at her.
It is still such a fresh idea, being here, totally exposed to the woman I love. We lay in bed, thin sheets covering just out lower halves, and those were free to explore just the same. Exposed, the perfect word for it. So raw and pure and it felt so right. She was propped up on her elbow and was tracing lazy hearts on my chest. The warm breeze drifted through the open window pass the satiny curtains and brushed through her long auburn hair. It gently brushed a willowy strand out of her eyes and past her high round cheeks. The moonlight came over the windowsill and made her emerald eyes sparkle and the freckles on her face shine. She was beautiful, I was blessed that she saw something in someone so brui
tell me what i need to hear,i want to feel something, something to set me free.
[i haven't been feeling alive lately, and living day to day strictly on 800 calories and listless laughter is killing me on the inside. i think i might require some assistance, but make sure this cure is fat free]
i don't know what to want, and that makes longing a lot harder.
[maybe i want to hurt like no other, just to remind me that i'm alive and that i'm in control even though i'm flying off the rails at breakneck speeds and seeing cities, stars and lives flash before my eyes]
but santa isn't a mind-reader and i might be getting coal in my stocking this year.
[because thinking about suicide is bad, padding down to the kitchen at fourinthefreaking morning to find a knife is bad, and running the silver blade over anxious flesh just for chills is probably bad as well]
maybe i could use it, roll around in it, because everything in black looks smaller, slimmer, beautiful.
[yes, that's what the magazines say
The Perfect MeMy love vices, and
a single part of me.
As are my shockingly deep
and my ever-changing hair;
blue, black, blonde, brunette
never staying the same,
like the make-up
on my skin, covering blemishes
encouraging cheek bones
and improving the splendor,
that is already there.
The calluses, on my feet
and the dessert cracks
on my hands, would go by unnoticed
if only, you took in my entity
as a whole,
as one thing;
you would notice,
among other beauties
like, my perfect shoulders
toned from years
of dancing, frolicking,
like the way my hair loosely
tumbles around my face.
I think you would notice,
the way I can make a T-shirt
with curves, forming
in perfect places, and a couple
that don't make me less beautiful.
I'm too much to handle,
unless you can grab on,
somewhere, hold me tight,
when you hold me, you wo
I Am MeMy body isn't a twig
Nor is it big
It is mine
And I am it
It means I am alive
I experience things through it
I live through it
I can touch and I can feel
Through hands with scars and burns
That have worked for wages
I can walk with legs that are mine
Though they are scared and marked
Through sport and through nourishment
I have feet that can take me
Wherever I wish to go
Though my ankles aren't straight, and they sprain
Though my feet are flat and make shoes impossible to find
I have a stomach that can accept food
Although it is marked with the scars of a laparoscopy
Through my hips I can dance
Even though they lock up and cause pain
I have a head that I can think with
Despite the blinding pain of migraines
I have eyes that see the beauty of all things
As long as I have my glasses to see
I have a nose that can smell wondrous things
And it has remains of chickenpox
I have lips that can taste and kiss
Once there is chap stick
I have breasts that are voluptuous
That are marked because the
A NameA Name, a given tag? Or a loving decision?
Months Prior to the Birth Graciela had sustained minor injury from, the woman sat in the living room with her mother; Marie Elena, she was a grand woman; her reaction to the news of the pregnancy was one of joyful glee. Graciela's mother-in-law was a completely different story; the first thing to pass her lips after the news was a topic of abortion. Now the next person she had to deliver the news to, was her beloved nephew, Carlos Scadutto.
" Carlitos! Tia is going to have a baby!" she confessed happily to the phone she held against her face, the voice sounding from the other side did not seem too happy though.
" What?! What are you gonna have a baby for?! I'M YOUR BABY!" he exclaimed.
" But You're my nephew Carli, and this baby is going to be mine" she explained with a smile, though it couldn't be seen.
From day one, the Hispanic blonde desperately wanted for it to be female. Everyone around her was convinced that it was going to be a boy due
InnocenceWidening blue eyes gaze upward:thumb180009503:
opening for the first time
to a world he has never known
Widening blue eyes cast glances
to a mother, he has yet to know.
to a father, he has never heard.
Widening blue eyes
Pure and perfect
Until frail hands of a doctor
pull him from the mess
cleaning with years of practice
He is tainted.
And innocence is lost.
Because innocence is never fully there.
birth.i can feel the blood boiling in my veins but somehow i don't want it to stop.
this is the place
the place that lives in darkness
the place where you can't even see your hand in front of your face
and this is where i was born,
wrapped in sheets of flesh and thorny brambles, torn about in endless sea storms
that i don't understand,
but if i asked you what your first thought was you wouldn't remember, no one does.
i was raised by wolves in nearby thickets,
held down by hunters until i could fight no more.
they wound my hair about my face and took me to the place
where i would be taken apart
slices of skin stripped
Mother, Welcome Me HomeStill nights
like still waters
the stillness of my mind
~ripples of thought~
Be still my heart
in the maternal dark
(paintings in the cave)
Born of soil
to soil return.
Suggested by jneen8
Shade of RedDamn this insatiable appetite,
This unyielding lust for something more.
So trapped am I, under my skin;
A wretched home, a place to abhor.
Averting eyes see none but red,
Like a raging bull I am unsighted.
I try to see, but to no avail,
Red remains, my mind blighted.
I reach out to touch it only to stop,
My eyes fill up with horror, mouth agape;
My fingers trembling, my heart racing,
My hands blanketed in crimson tape.
I look to the left and now the right,
An object lies dormant in my grip.
A horrid chill rushes up my spine
As I glare bewildered at the fine tip.
With a clank the blade hits the pavement,
With a thud my knees follow suit.
With my hands outreached I glare once more,
As the crimson tears swiftly chute.
My gaze averts once more below,
The knife which took a life lifelessly lies.
With a whim I reanimate the bloodied blade,
Into the void of which my heart once guised.
Without a sound my pulse quickly slows,
My blank eyes return from sudden dilation.
Time Capsule PastryI fill you up with all that I love,:thumb176305099:
I cherish your very meaning;
I paint you white like a dove,
The symbol of a peaceful being.
I stash you away without regret
In hopes that someone else will find you,
But they wont love you as much, I bet,
As I sincerely do.
Oh, but I can't wait that long,
I apologize to say,
Forgive me please, if I am wrong
For wanting you today.
So I pick you up and hold you close
And eye you with much intent,
For I can't help but take a dose
Until my heart is content.
Now the time has come
To rid you of this place.
I must bid you a solemn so long
And cram you in my face.
Suggested by TheseKrimzonFlames
For CheliseI came to school today
Excited to see a friend.
She was upset.
She'd been crying.
I already knew.
If that boy feels he has
The right to hurt,
The BattleThis is the recollection of a battle that occurs down a muddy path in a foggy forest. This is the battle of a simple run, and the enemy is myself. This is the battle against the voices.
Splash slosh, splash slosh, one two, three four, my feet are pounding against the drenched earth, engulfing themselves in mud. My water-logged shoelaces are whipping at my ankles with powerful stings. Give up.
Thump-thump, thump-thump, one-two, three-four, it feels as if the rapid beating will tear my heart out of my chest. The cold wind is the only thing
preventing me from catching fire. Give up.
Huff-huff, phew, in-in, out, one-two, three, is the sound of my coarse breath. There is not enough oxygen entering my lungs but I remain calm, focusing on even breathing. The taste of humidity barely quenches my thirst in this foggy forest. Give up.
Swish, swish, one, two, my ponytail is swaying from side to side, brushing my nape. It feels cold and painful even through my shirt. Give up.
The sloshing of my fe
I Miss You*exhales*
I miss you
And the glow in my sisters eyes
She was so
And the Mr.
*sign language* J
Those are really addicting
my mother never really learned your name
Thank you to all the deviant suggestions and theme suggestions from pullingcandy TheseKrimzonFlames Dani-the-Naiad Athenas88 and jneen8
Remember you can suggest a theme or deviant to me via note, or if you have someone for the next feature then please let me know
A | B |
Next Week: C
Like this? Take a look at the The A,B,C's of Horror which is now at letter Q from pullingcandy