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Bruno by Summer1993 Bruno :iconsummer1993:Summer1993 1 0 Valentine's Day by Summer1993 Valentine's Day :iconsummer1993:Summer1993 1 2
Literature
Dear You
Dear you,
My dearest of dears, if only in the back of my mind. How quickly our sun has set. December will soon be upon us once more, but I, I'm still in September. And I still miss you. I miss the flames that played through our fingertips and set light upon our faces, all the passion and happiness surging in, around, and between two separate bodies. I miss the beatific load I carried in my heart in the autumn on the way to see you, smiling at my feet as they stirred up transfigured leaves, the wind puffing through my then shoulder length hair. Your eyes, so blissfully wide and simpering at my approach, amber in essence, but dark brown in reality. I remember lying across from you and staring into those round orbs of a deeper void, and I saw true love for the first time. I never wanted it to end. I never fathomed that it should have to.
Alas, dawn turned into day, who shook hands with dusk, and was introduced to night. Oh, and how long that night lasted. I still shake from the nightmares
:iconSummer1993:Summer1993
:iconsummer1993:Summer1993 1 0
Boudoir by Summer1993
Mature content
Boudoir :iconsummer1993:Summer1993 11 18
Literature
Sleep Soundly, Sweet September
.I.
Wake up, December,
Sleepy September,
Across the Arizona terrain.
Painting pictures in blood,
dripping from broken colored glass.
"Hello? Ocean? Are you listening?"
.II.
Get bored, go to the parade.
Chased by those who wear the masks.
Smiling one minute, frowning the next.
Comedic-tragedy.
Lips facing forward, eyes to the back.
Take the dirt road to the mansion,
get off the beaten track.
There's a man in a diner.
He has your eyes,
but he smokes.
Cigars.
.III.
Racing now, dodging bullets, sweating memories.
Through the door to the nightmare room.
The screams are incensed.
Remnants of a battered daughter,
A drug-addict father.
The pictures tell a different story.
Remember the night, you held me tight,
Whispered "Don't open your eyes to the darkness."
My brain registered: "Let me go."
.IV.
At night.
Try to get sleep, but every time I turn off the light,
the bed moves.
Put on that dress. The one that you hate. Just for the sake,
of hearing you yell.
Because i
:iconSummer1993:Summer1993
:iconsummer1993:Summer1993 3 4
Literature
Para voce
It's just me and the voice inside my head,
and being alone isn't all that fair,
but really,
I think we make a handsome pair.
Because I could fade into an oil canvas,
and taste the ink on my tongue.
Feel the prick of thorn upon my skin like fresh pressed flowers.
Between these pages.
Between these sheets.
And I could call it home.
Like waking up to the touch of your lips,
and the smell of your hair,
and how its presense still seems to linger there.
Like swirling around and being turned upside down.
Like being cut open and turned inside out.
Yea,
I love you like that.
How we're both grounded and stable,
and no matter how close we press our bodies against the other's,
we can't melt into one another.
And it hurts all the more when we pull ourselves apart,
because we've been missing each other the whole time that we've been together.
So, if we're sticking with this honesty,
then I must admit that I'm a bit weak of heart.
But you make me want to slip free of this EKG,
and tuck my head beneat
:iconSummer1993:Summer1993
:iconsummer1993:Summer1993 1 0
Literature
Yet to be titled story.
I remember very little of my father, other than the fact that he was a harsh, brutish man that stood firmly by the "spare the rod, spoil the child" bit of logic. I can recount numerous occurances where I dipped my hand in the cookie jar, or dragged the cat up the stairs by its tail under mother's watchful eye, only to have father rang at his place of employment and have him return home pronto. He was never happy when this happened. I hid under the bed, or in the linen closet amongst mother's lily scented towels, my heart thudding uncontrollably within my small boy's chest. All was to no avail; he always found me.
As the front door downstairs opened and slammed, and his heavy boots stomped up the stairs, each one heaving audibly from the weight, I covered my nose and mouth with my hands, afraid that my breaths might somehow betray me. Father threw my door open. It slammed against the wall to the right of it, and creaked back on it's hinges. His boots emmerged into view. He paced back an
:iconSummer1993:Summer1993
:iconsummer1993:Summer1993 0 0
Best of my Love Zoom-out by Summer1993 Best of my Love Zoom-out :iconsummer1993:Summer1993 1 0 Best of my Love Before by Summer1993 Best of my Love Before :iconsummer1993:Summer1993 0 0 Best of my Love by Summer1993 Best of my Love :iconsummer1993:Summer1993 1 4
Literature
The Ship has gotten dusty....
Every day when I wake up, it's there: a pain in the breast at the sudden realization of the truth. It's like an old dog knawing on a bone. It's not easily chewed, so it splinters when swallowed, occasionally upsetting digestion.
Sometimes I stand at the window staring out, my arm lain across the cool, glassy surface, my forehead resting upon my arm. The sun rises before me, its rays washing over the trees and scenery before me. I close my eyes and feel the heat play upon my facial features as it climbs ever higher into the sky.
With the passing of each day, it feels less and less real. I'll admit, I'm no longer devestated, but I feel the ache in my breast just the same. I've found ways to numb it, to temporarily quiet it. Still, some things never change. I'll find myself sitting in the dining room during an evening meal, daydreaming. I'll scoop up pieces of food with my fork. Then, at some point I'll snap out of my thoughts, and realise that my eyes have fallen on a chair where once we
:iconSummer1993:Summer1993
:iconsummer1993:Summer1993 0 0
Literature
Brevity
I've learned that things will be ok, whether you want them to or not.
Things never go as you would like them to go. If it's meant to be, it is. If it's not? Heh.
The hardest part about life, is realizing that everything is a test of appreciation, and once the test is over there are only ever two outcomes:
Pass. Fail.
Time doesn't wait, and neither do people.
Down the hallway, third door to the left, is the room where she had lain.
A concavity still visible upon the pillow where she slept.
The bed unmade, the room untouched.
I close the door quietly, turn, slide down, and collapse against the cool, wooden structure; weeping.
"Goodnight," I say. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."
It was rather like a six-hundred page novel, bought with the anxiety and intention of devouring it hungrily page by page.
For a while, it seems like it will never end. No, how could it? The happiness will go on forever until the end of time.
But wait, and observe this simplest of tricks: one chapter a day is read; a q
:iconSummer1993:Summer1993
:iconsummer1993:Summer1993 1 0
Literature
Thoughts.
Where did the time go? Did it leave us dancing alone in the cold, cheek to cheek within the bonfire temptation of our hearts? Like weeds growing between the sidewalk cracks of our composure. Surely this is why Gods evolved to not have eyes. It's not easy living amongst the mortal.
:iconSummer1993:Summer1993
:iconsummer1993:Summer1993 0 0
DeviantID by Summer1993 DeviantID :iconsummer1993:Summer1993 1 0
Literature
You can't spell 'lover'
One week, two weeks,
three days, five?
I'll lose track after tomorrow.
Every place I go, it's reminicent of you,
and I must blantantly admit, I'm afraid.
Afraid like a young girl waiting at the window for her father to come home;
her face pressed tight against the glass.
When she never had a father to start with.
I jump under the covers with you and let my body be still as the sheet falls lightly and conforms around our features.
"Come on a road trip with me," I whisper into the dark.
Silence for a few moments.
"A road trip to where?" you inquire uncertainly.
"A road trip to forever."
I almost flinch as you reach out to caress my cheek, before pulling me close against you.
You breath in slowly, surely, and finally:
"Now, tell me why."
I bury my face into your chest, and blink away burning tears.
I don't know why...I only know that I need you.
:iconSummer1993:Summer1993
:iconsummer1993:Summer1993 1 0
Literature
By the time you read this...
I love too deeply, fall too hard,
flirt with everyone, over cigars and cards.
I hurt a lot of people, all for the sake of making them mine.
Move too quickly, and lack a warning sign.
I prefer my relationships to be QSO;
Quick-Simple-Over, always on the go.
I set my expectations too high, and shoot for the moon,
fall for the first poor soul that enters the room.
I know now what I didn't know then:
That I love the silouhette of naked men.
That a kiss is just a kiss, nothing more,
until you get closer, and you realise what it's for.
That if you miss someone before you leave them,
there's no longer hope for your heart; no beginning, no end.
That you can press yourself against another person as much as physics will permit,
but close enough, will never be, "close enough," and you'll never get enough of it.
That you'll ache to feel a person within you, floating through your veins,
and you'll wander the world like a crack addict with all the worldly pains.
If there's but one thing that you cou
:iconSummer1993:Summer1993
:iconsummer1993:Summer1993 2 0

Favourites

Salad Fingers costume by Shirak-cosplay Salad Fingers costume :iconshirak-cosplay:Shirak-cosplay 191 86
Literature
Cadaver
I do not sing myself unkind or
unwoven.
Indeed I am bequeathed to air and nature,
indeed I am neither cadaver nor earthly fire,
and be these things as they may I am
limp upon my own horizons and I am watching
the silhouettes of birds atop the roofs of buildings.
and the roofs of buildings where you fell in love with him
and the fire that navigates your pores, in and out of
skin that sings electric when I touch it, and
my body sings of unrest and want,
desire is impalpable and it permeates my eyes through
the vast oceans that are your irises.
and be this as it may,
you doing lines on roofs of Harlem watching the
sunrise and dancing so hard your feet
leave the ground and you're in mid-air and you're
lifting and I can feel you lifting,
be all this as it may,
what has left you has entered me and all of the
sorrow and relief of your narcissism encompasses me.
you trace my fingers.
isn't it frightening, you ask me idly, your thumb
meeting my thumb,
when you look in the mirror and someone els
:iconAquarius-Claire:Aquarius-Claire
:iconaquarius-claire:Aquarius-Claire 12 11
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Literature
Who Are You
"Where were you last night?"
I saw Vickie's hand clench on the doorknob for a moment before releasing it and stumbling into the room. Her face was flushed with intoxication and blank of any emotion except irritation and exhaustion.
"Well?"
Glaring at me, as if telling me that I should know, she flopped, face-first onto her bed.
I sat cross-legged on the mattress on the other side of the room and took in her appearance. Her hair was a mess, she was missing one shoe, and there was a questionable odor coming from her general direction.
"Why does she do this to herself?" I asked in my head.
Vickie and I had been best friends since God only knows when. I think it was around fifth grade, I don't know; we've been the best of friends for years, and that's all that mattered. All I know is that I had never expected her to be the party kind of girl. Ever since I've known her, she's always been the sweet, caring sort of girl that any parent would be proud of. She had good grades and even be
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Mature content
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Activity


deviantID

Summer1993
Summer Wertz
United States
I don't care about the past. None of it was made to last. It's not who you've know, but who you're knowing. Yeah...I like where this is going.

Current Residence: Myrtle Beach, SC
Favourite genre of music: I love everything music.
Favourite photographer: No Preference
Favourite style of art: No Preference
Operating System: 15" Macbook Pro
MP3 player of choice: Ipod Touch
Favourite cartoon character: Todd(Fox and the Hound) or Simba(O rei Leao)
Personal Quote: Tickle the taco's belly, it'll roll over
Interests
I took a walk with the beast to numb the stinging, and when the numbness stopped and the pain began again, my lips collided with someone else's, and I saw your face on the body of a stranger.
  • Listening to: Your heart beat faster.
  • Reading: The words as you say them.
  • Watching: The African horizon.
  • Playing: with my prey.
  • Eating: The entrails of unsuspecting Wildebeest.

Comments


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:iconaquarius-claire:
Aquarius-Claire Featured By Owner Apr 3, 2011  Student Writer
Thanks for the fave! :] it means a lot.
Reply
:iconsummer1993:
Summer1993 Featured By Owner Apr 5, 2011
You're very welvome. :)
Reply
:iconbeautyliesintheheart:
BeautyLiesInTheHeart Featured By Owner Nov 23, 2010  Hobbyist Photographer
Thanks for the fave! :dummy:
Reply
:iconmisslucy:
misslucy Featured By Owner May 11, 2010
thanks for the fav!
Reply
:iconsummer1993:
Summer1993 Featured By Owner May 12, 2010
No problem =] I love your idea.
Reply
:iconlibbysealy:
libbysealy Featured By Owner May 11, 2010  Hobbyist Artisan Crafter
hello
Reply
:iconsavaliste:
SAVALISTE Featured By Owner May 5, 2010   Photographer
thx 4 fav! :bounce:
Reply
:iconsummer1993:
Summer1993 Featured By Owner May 5, 2010
You are very welcome dear. =]
Reply
:iconlilac-flower:
lilac-flower Featured By Owner Apr 27, 2010   Photographer
i like you profil-pic!
Reply
:iconsummer1993:
Summer1993 Featured By Owner Apr 27, 2010
Which one?
Reply
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