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About Literature / Hobbyist Beau-PenemuelFemale/United States Groups :icondndeviants: Dndeviants
Rocks fall. Roll reflex.
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Doodlepractice by Beau-Penemuel Doodlepractice :iconbeau-penemuel:Beau-Penemuel 0 0
Literature
Keys
Goodbyes were never really my thing in the end
But in the beginning, when hello's were as easy as--
breathing,
I could remember the way your freckles made the outline
of constellations,
Gravitation, it's the only thing that's keeping me grounded these days,
because the last thing I ever want to do is ask you to stay,
I have to give you an apology, because when I found myself astray
I looked at my shadow and mistook it for my demons trying to find me,
Remind me,
That the handprints of my previous lover would always stay under my skin,
preventing anyone else from digging under it and planting ideas,
That maybe I don't need to be afraid anymore.
Just to be safe I memorized every door my intimate strangers would walk out of,
locking them and letting go of strings that had the capability of strangling me
Swallowing the keys and hiding them for eternity.
Your kisses were like a match and my skin was the tinder,
My tongue on the back of your teeth, pulling out secrets that got stuck between t
:iconBeau-Penemuel:Beau-Penemuel
:iconbeau-penemuel:Beau-Penemuel 2 4
Literature
Symphonies.
December will always be the hardest month for me,
It was the month I burned bridges with a flick of a match,
A drop of gasoline,
And a kiss.
It was the month I purposely wore stilettos downtown,
So I could remember what your heartbeat sounded like when my heels touched concrete.
Click, Click, Click, Click
It was the month I stood in Alamo Plaza and pretended Christmas lights were stars,
so I could make wishes and hope you would come back to me.
It was the month I realized I loved you.
I thought long walks on Presa Street would make me realize that you were as good for me,
as pouring salt in my beer or using a dull knife for protection.
but I've always been afraid of rejection, so when you grabbed my hands and told me you promise you'd come back,
I found myself watching leaves fall and crossing X's on my calendar.
St. Mary's was the street I remembered what it meant to say goodbye,
The taste of smoke on my tongue as you left me behind.
I can't say for sure what it means to love s
:iconBeau-Penemuel:Beau-Penemuel
:iconbeau-penemuel:Beau-Penemuel 0 0
Literature
Heartvalves and Clockwork
I never wanted to be your grand scheme of things,
The big blowouts that required confetti and balloons,
Required sacrifices and credit cards that took you months to pay off plus interest.
I pictured myself more as the antique item that was on sale in a thrift shop that caught your eye,
Beaten and worn, and yet surprisingly still useful even if I was put on a shelf and just admired every once and awhile.
Tick, tick, tick, tick,
My hand is stuck on the time past five because its the moment where I realized my baggage was really never left behind,
I pray you dont notice as I am starting to take up too much of your time,
My emotions are like the hanging numbers off the face of this clock,
My own countdown is coming to a close and I realize that maybe in the end,
All I was ever good for was counting down the minutes,
Seconds,
Until this moment came where you realized I wasn’t the person you thought I could be.
I try and apologize with clock chimes but
All they sound like are cu
:iconBeau-Penemuel:Beau-Penemuel
:iconbeau-penemuel:Beau-Penemuel 2 0
Literature
Petrichor
My fingers dance across your skin like they found home,
and all I can think about is how you are falling into my life in the most perfect moments—
Framing yourself on my walls of solitude and making them shine against the dust that has collected on my emotional baggage.
You walk through these empty rooms of my heart and already know what to furnish them with, and a part of me wants to take my baggage and leave because I know,
deep down,
that they will be the reason why your smile will falter.
They will be the reason why you cry, they will be the reason why when we sit together it feels like I am oceans away.
But baby, you entangle your fingers into my hair and anchor me in with a kiss that is the perfect example of what it means to be grounded.
You are my petrichor, the way your lips press against my skin like raindrops; soft and powerful all at the same time.
You make me want to leave all of my baggage at the door even when they’ve chained themselves to my ankles and like
:iconBeau-Penemuel:Beau-Penemuel
:iconbeau-penemuel:Beau-Penemuel 0 0
Literature
Seafoam
Etched between your words and lines
Are softly spoken lies that I just can’t,
Let go of.
I wish I could let go of you, so I could stop catching myself gazing at stars and the moon and wondering if all you’ll ever be to me,
Is a high tide that managed to catch me in your current.
Break my brittle ego like abandoned sea shells, and I’m sure I can play a harmony,
My composure is like sand between my fingers and the only thing I could say to you was goodbye,
Because goodbyes aren’t like high tides and ocean currents— where if you watch carefully you know when they’ll return.
I’ll swim until my lungs give out and I’m one with the ocean, because maybe then I can learn what it means,
To be one with mermaids and to sing the song of blue whales.
Maybe if I’m the ocean foam crashing against rocks, I’ll know what it means to love someone enough to move the Earth.
Maybe I will understand the reason why waves pull people into them,
Because
:iconBeau-Penemuel:Beau-Penemuel
:iconbeau-penemuel:Beau-Penemuel 0 1
Literature
Risks.
My imperfections fall like, puzzle pieces.
They make me whole, in a sense, where the cracks are thin and liquid, nitrogen can seep through.
The cold is chipped from the shoulder, down, and when I thought that I couldn't, distance myself anymore than usual, it seemed to happen all over again.
It's always a choice, for people like the broken and scarred, to turn hero's into martyr's. It's always a threat, for people of the past, to look to the future and take two steps back wondering if it'll last.
The truth to us, is as simple as it can be. Laid out before me in a sense of, righteousness. The question, for me, however--
Is to let it consume me and not let it turn riotous.
Insanity at its best, yes, to willing step off the edge of something comfortable into a sea of unfamiliarity and not wonder about the future as I'm, taking two steps back.
I couldn't tell you why, I couldn't show you it either, I was so used to being able to step back and take a breather that I forgot what it was like
:iconBeau-Penemuel:Beau-Penemuel
:iconbeau-penemuel:Beau-Penemuel 1 7
Literature
Him.
He was a man, destined to be something great by the worlds that collided to make, supernova's.
He was, something, that I just couldn't, take, a-hold of. And in a place where standing still meant that you had music to face, I just couldn't quite find the man who had a certain place, already built for me inside his heart without him even realizing it.
Bit by bit, had the rose petals fallen onto a floor made of glass. It was like staring up at the sky and wondering why, you felt like something was missing.
He is a man, of great wonder in a world so typical. Filled to the brim of nothing but hypocritical, wanna be smooth talkers and skilled stalkers with a knife in hand, ready to bring apart the seams that hold us all together.
He'll never see what I see in his silhouette, how the sunrise has a perfect set, in his eyes and I can count the stars dancing around his pupils because there's a world that's far too beautiful, to be seen by the naked eye.
Perhaps the world is set up where our othe
:iconBeau-Penemuel:Beau-Penemuel
:iconbeau-penemuel:Beau-Penemuel 1 3
Literature
Wordless.
I was never good at expressing how I felt through normal conversation,
No, I was never good at making relationships work without some, hesitation. It's been all or nothing for me, and with you it's something in the middle, something in-between.
I've got a broken soul in my chest sprinkled with what's left of what you could call a heart. You're not very smart, getting involved with a girl like me, someone who you seem to find beauty in the smallest things.
You've got to understand that my thoughts are scattered, my lungs are battered from the smoke that I inhale every night to try and, understand if what we have is right. It's not doubt, no, let me explain, let me explain before you get the idea that this poem is about disdain. This is me simply giving you myself in the best way I can, giving you the side that should terrify any man.
I am a mixture of cyanide and glycoside in my own eyes, the sweetest intentions with the deadliest reactions. I put on a front of being a great personality
:iconBeau-Penemuel:Beau-Penemuel
:iconbeau-penemuel:Beau-Penemuel 2 7
Literature
Artistic Depression.
There's a reason why, you don't stare up at the stars anymore. There's gotta be a reason for, no longer locking the door, to your, memories.
You let it slide past, as if it was nothing, you let it manifest itself in the hopes of sparking a reason as to why, you feel the way you do.
Life was not supposed to be like this, no, it was supposed to have a plan, it was supposed to have meaning, something that you can,
rely on. There's a reason why, you gave yourself the instruction for destruction. There's a reason why, the stars have lost their glow to you.
There's gotta be, because to have no reason at all is just like having concrete wings for a cliff fall. Because maybe we make up reasons out of habit, to embrace the idea that life is not supposed to be like this, not supposed to be as crazy as the White Rabbit.
Life is not supposed to be held onto shooting stars and fast cars to get us away from what we call, the past. Life is not supposed to be a gamble on whether or not our lives will
:iconBeau-Penemuel:Beau-Penemuel
:iconbeau-penemuel:Beau-Penemuel 2 5
Literature
Guilty Self-Infliction.
I sit here with alcohol in my system, part of the night blurring by because the stars, just, aren't quite aligned.
The time of me and you has resigned, and even though I count the number of times our paths have led back to each other, I can't quite, remember if it was a force of nature or a force of hand.
I've got your initial brand on a certain part of me, where everything is free except for my individuality. You've got my heart in one hand and the scalpel in the other, playing tic tac toe and having me save on wishes from shooting stars.
So this is where my rhymes really begin, story telling is over and it's time to put away that heartless grin, given when a battle has already been lost. It's kind of like a winter morning with no frost, the air is cold and yet it's so,
fucking, beautiful.
So when did I become so fusible to the games you've played, when did I become so brutal in making sure healing properly was delayed, where did it all go, when I was standing in line for some kind of
:iconBeau-Penemuel:Beau-Penemuel
:iconbeau-penemuel:Beau-Penemuel 1 7
Literature
Rain.
I've got my mind blown, pieces of it spreading across the world in the hopes of, sparking some, insight.
Maybe it's just like, laying in bed at night, and thinking about all the things we should've done.
        Could've done.
             Would've done.
But we didn't and that's what's holding me back now, the decisions of not what I'm going to do tomorrow, but the decisions that I didn't make yesterday,
It's like a powerplay, set on with an adrenaline rush and the need for, nostalgia.
But this is what I need, this is what I strive, because in a world that's full of death we all just need something to revive,
The flame in our hearts, the passion in our actions, and most of the all, to refill the world with the compassion that had gotten lost like the city of Atlantis.
So I'll sit here by your side, hold your hand and keep your head up above the high tide, the waters are full of salt
:iconBeau-Penemuel:Beau-Penemuel
:iconbeau-penemuel:Beau-Penemuel 5 3
Mature content
Reverse Nostalgia. :iconbeau-penemuel:Beau-Penemuel 0 0
Literature
Regret.
You judged me like a book, taking one glance and simply realizing that the imperfections of my misconceptions weren't enough to satisfy, your desire of winning the lottery.
      It's borderline mockery, on the way you treated me, made words that meant nothing be the foundation of completely-- everything.
You fell in love with pixels of perfection, plastered on a platter and it must've just been, bittersweet, to know that you had found the perfect personality.
Unfortunately, it wasn't enough. To travel across the country for it to be lost, by the image of, normality, must've been quite the, shocker to realize I wasn't part of your formality.
And I guess that's what makes this even harder for me, easy for you to judge what you see while I had to take to heart, your perfect punctuality. I had hoped, that maybe, I would be getting what I thought I deserved, only being met with a reserved, rejection. So yes, I need some time, yes, I just need to unwind, the ke
:iconBeau-Penemuel:Beau-Penemuel
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Literature
There Are Things.
There are things that keep us up at night, things that are said and things that fill us with, some sort of dread, that can only be taken away by some sort of light of invisibility.
  There are things that can only fill us up with hostility, breaking the mirror in which we see so we can no longer even seem to find the words to lighten the pain by a small degree.
I'm laying in my covers and all I can think about is you, my fingers are somehow entangled with my hair and I find myself falling--
  back into some kind of beginning that only takes me two steps back to where I had originally started.
      There are things that get in-between us, wedge themselves so deep that we're torn with the self-confliction of whether or not to believe the fiction, that keeps us moving along a journey we have no control of.
I have no idea, how it got this way, where I was torn on what you wanted to hear and what I needed to say. I have no idea, how night h
:iconBeau-Penemuel:Beau-Penemuel
:iconbeau-penemuel:Beau-Penemuel 4 9
Literature
Goodmorning.
I've got you, in the most comfortable part, of my undisclosed heart.
It's not very easy for me, to write about a feeling that stops traffic at high speeds,
to write about a sensation that fills everything with a humming vibration of nostalgia.
It's far from vulnerability, far from a free-falling liability, far from a sacrifice that only ends in a selfish device of a low-standard suffice. My cheekbones ache from the memory of laying between your heartbeat and self-motivation for a word that has no definition.
My stomach is filled with adrenaline, distilled into a lullaby that sends me to the stars and makes me wonder if you'll always be around.
I've got distance on the backbone of my being, resistance being futile when I'm doing nothing but basking in the glow of my own mediocrity of a love poem.
I've got desires pressed to your skin, fingetips tracing a melody that can only be played in the silence of actions that seem to bring you to me.
Which reminds me,
Goodmorning.
Goodmorning my l
:iconBeau-Penemuel:Beau-Penemuel
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  • Listening to: Tell Her You Love Her - Echosmith
I haven't written an honest to God blogpost since 2011. I mean, there's always my Tumblr but there's a difference between actually making a blog post and just spitting out a few sentence fragments that are super vague. I don't even know why I'm making one now, I guess it's because the things that I want to say can't actually be conveyed into poetry. Which is weird, because usually that's the only way I can ever really express anything.

You know, it's been a long time since I've ever had to regret something in my life. I never make decisions that I don't completely abide to unless there's new evidence or information that was presented that made me sway. But now I do regret only one thing, and it's leaving our friendship behind.

Romantically speaking, that'll probably never rekindle. You betrayed my loyalty, and played me like a fool romantically in small increments over the course of the past year. But you were also my best friend 80% of the time besides those small increments. 

I don't think my pride will ever let me actually say this to you, but here it goes:

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I want our friendship, I miss you."

You told me that I'm welcome to come back any time. But that was before I told you to go fuck yourself. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to have you knock on my door, to somehow come find me before I leave for the military. I did my research, and it turns out that my MOS is one of the highest, along with yours, to be deployed. And then I thought, "God, wouldn't that be funny if we somehow got deployed together? In the thousands of soldiers that would be out you and I would manage to find each other in War."

And then I wanted to chew on nails because out of all the things to think about with deployment, I think of that? Way to downplay and romanticize a terrible thing, Brojas. Regardless, there's another reason why I haven't tried to make amends, and it's because a part of me genuinely believes that this isn't affecting you at all. That our friendship was nothing, that I was nothing, just something to pass the time by. You didn't even try and keep me from leaving, and it's a little funny in this dark humor-kind-of-way because I told you the secret to my entire being and yet you still fell in with the rest.

I'm leaving soon, starting Active Duty with all this international bullshit going on. I'll most likely give my list of choices and then be mad as fuck when it turns out I'll be stationed at Fort Polk after AIT. I'll give my list, and to be quite frank I'm kind of hoping to be stationed in Germany. I wonder if you would find me, then? Whatever, I'm gonna go play Dragon Age.

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:icongeneral-ebonrose:
General-EbonRose Featured By Owner Jul 6, 2012  Student Digital Artist
:la: Birthday fo you!
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:iconcloudnumber8:
CloudNumber8 Featured By Owner Feb 26, 2012   General Artist
thanks for the fave Rojo :D
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