taylor_writes (taylor_writes) wrote,
taylor_writes
taylor_writes

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This journal will be friends only. If you'd like to see what I write, please feel free to add me.

A sample (something i wrote a few years ago):
A dim outlook through a brightly lit window.
Moonlight filtered through the room bathing the delicate figure in a white light and barely illuminating the darkened room. She stood at the window, her dark chocolate eyes stare out into the darkness, they are the window to her kaleidoscope soul and they are watching the pregnant belly of the moon, the shimmer and twinkle of the stars, the serenity of the world outside her own. Her arms wrap around her, and she hugs herself close, feeling the softness of her pale, delicate skin. Though there is a hardness in those chocolate eyes and this girl could take you on, fight you to the bitter end, the heart that beats behind the cage is large, round and full of vulnerability, sensitive to the cruel looks and taunts of some and ever-compassionate to those she knows and loves. Dark brown locks frame a pale and lovely face, falling just to kiss her bare shoulders and bangs fall to natural eyebrows. Those chocolate eyes sometimes peek shyly out from those dark brown locks, but not tonight. Tonight she stood, head held up high, with a silken sheet held gently against her, falling in a soft line down over her little curves to the plushly carpeted floor. Yes, she stood nude at the window, nude in her silent contemplation of her hell-on-wheels world. Tempted was she, is so many directions, not knowing which was the best route. A vow to be taken, or broken or sealed. Who knew the best choice? Men, flaunting themselves, falling at her feet in cries of anguish and need, wanting, desiring, worshipping her attentions, and what was she to do? Refuse them all with a dismissal of her pale hand with its long, delicate fingers, send them all away, bawling and mewling like pitiful creatures on the bottom of the food chain or give over and succumb to the lustful madness? Or better to choose a few and refuse the rest? But who to cast into the darkness and who to bring into the light? She contemplated all this and more as she watched the clouds roll lazily past that pregnant moon. One hand lifted and outstretched as if to the stars, to the solutions to all her woes. The stars, like her answers, were just beyond her reach and she let her hand fall, letting go a moment on the need for resolution. Maybe she should just let it all go...
Tags: old school
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