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Literature Text
The Artist pens his way through paper
Slowly creating worlds
None have ever heard of.
He creates patterns –
Intricate patterns –
That swirl through parchment
Creating rainbows and stars
And thoughts and dreams.
The Artist puts his life into his work
Giving them feeling
And giving them breath.
He gives them his soul
His heart
And his mind
And locks them all away
Into pieces of paper.
The Artist gives away his work
To friends
To family
To peers.
He gives them an essence
Of his very heart and soul
And they lock it away
Into a cupboard…
Locking away his soul.
The Artist gives himself away
To people he can trust with his life.
Slowly creating worlds
None have ever heard of.
He creates patterns –
Intricate patterns –
That swirl through parchment
Creating rainbows and stars
And thoughts and dreams.
The Artist puts his life into his work
Giving them feeling
And giving them breath.
He gives them his soul
His heart
And his mind
And locks them all away
Into pieces of paper.
The Artist gives away his work
To friends
To family
To peers.
He gives them an essence
Of his very heart and soul
And they lock it away
Into a cupboard…
Locking away his soul.
The Artist gives himself away
To people he can trust with his life.
Literature
Faberry
Quinn held the brunette's hair back as she vomited into the toilet again.the blonde rocked backwards with rachel in her lap, replacing the cool damp cloth on her forehead."thanks" she whispered hoarsely.
"shhh don't talk, you'll only wreck you beautiful voice." Rachel whimpered softly and Quinn cuddled her closer. She felt the tiny girl jerk and she quickly pushed her back over the porcelain bowl while holding her hair back. Quinn pulled her back into her lap once more. this routine had been going on for the past hour at least. Quinn carefully extracted herself from under Rachel and as she met her questioning stare bent back down quickly and
Literature
Brittana
She stares at me, her dark eyes wet around the edges,
like she has been crying.
My heart pounds with sadness at the sight of her.
She stares at me, knowing all of my secrets, my fears,
and yet she still loves me.
She reaches out and touches my face
and I breathe out one word
"Santana"
That is all she needs to hear.
Because in that word
she can hear my heart, crying out for her.
As she brings our lips closer
I can hear her say
"Brittany"
and then we collide.
Literature
Vacation - Brittana
I gazed longingly at the beach as Santana looked over the menu.
'That sounds good
' She said, studying something on the menu carefully. I dragged my attention back to the restaurant, picking up my menu and searching for my potential dinner. Everything sounded so
foreign. I mean, that made sense, we were somewhere foreign
but where were the French fries?
'Octopus on salad with a crayfish dressing? How can an octopus dress like a crayfish?' I queried, confused as to why or how this would occur.
My girlfriend smiled at me sweetly, taking my hand.
'Dressing is the saucy stuff they put on a salad, sweetie,' she said.
'Ooooh
Suggested Collections
Written for my friend, Eddy, who is an exceptionally good artist.
He gave me a pen drawing
I wrote him this
He gave me a pen drawing
I wrote him this
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