Rissingflurry

Gilbert loved the limelight, any "awesome hot shot" like him would. He lived for the attention that bathed him and would gladly mold his being for it. He'd be what the people wanted because it's all he had.  So he was a jerk, because man did the guys love it and he was a flirt because the girls who flocked to him would temporarily fill a void. With them all he didn't feel so lonely, it was almost like he didn't go home to his little brother’s basement. It was like he had friends beyond his blog followers. It was like a high without the drugs. "Is she cute?" So he played his part of an arrogant bastard for the sake of his self-esteem.

You’re in a beautiful dress, one a figure as full as yours shouldn’t be in. But everyone insisted it looked so so good. Really though your far too disgusting to even pull such a lovely gown off. You’re shaming it. You almost trip on the way out the door. If not for the dashing young man that claims to be madly in love with you, you surely would have fallen. You want to cry. Just look at you trying so so hard. So hard you’re even falling with your so high heels. “Hey careful don’t want to break now” Alfred chuckles as he rights you linking your arm with his as he steals another peck.  A part of you

You ink your freshly cleaned face with the cold primer. Small circles traveling the length of your face pushing the paint along, before your hands pull back to let it set.   With a minute to kill your fingers witlessly begin to search for concealer, your eyes guiding the swift movements of your digits through the large vanity.  It’s with in a few moments the small tube is found and gripped in your hand. For a moment you stare at it, just rolling it around your palm. A part of you hates the skin tone paint but a bigger part knows just how much you need it.  So with only a glance at the clock you uncap the tube and begin to pat the liqu

Sometimes a young man would stop at the window of a department store. His fingers would brush against the cold glass, as his eyes would dully stare at the display in front of him. Sometimes a wistful smile would curl at his lips as he found himself taken by old memories he couldn't bring himself to forget. Sometimes he swears it's almost like they're on replay. That soft (Color) hair is tickling his cheek as a heavy head leans against his shoulder, a laugh that isn't quite annoying is ringing in his ears, and excited (color) eyes are staring up at him.  Sometimes it just feels so real. It's almost like your there again. The young man wishes y

It was so simple every step, every move, every turn, it all flowed so well with such grace. Hands far too big hold yours as you step, feet shuffling rhythmically besides those much larger. Swaying like grass you weaved through your stretched meadow with the easy of a breeze. Your silk dress flowing much like a blooming bud, and with a nod you rise into the air like a bird soaring through the night sky, landing in those strong arms that hold you up, allowing you to kiss the sky as the air spins around you like a tornado, air whipping at your face.  And you smile, your happy, so very happy, a laugh rings through the air as you flap your wings.

I find you enriching, a person beyond me yet at the same time so far behind. You have a tang to you that I'm not to sure I like, and so I keep tasting and tasting hoping to figure it out. I've yet to and you think I'd grow bored with you but you have a way of entrancing people. Maybe it's those eyes or perhaps that delicate smile, I've yet to figure it out.. I hope to one day though. Which isn't good, I'm not suppose to care this much you know? It just isn't the way things are meant to be. Yet you have wound your way into my system and become much like the coffee I hate, addictive. It's why I refuse to drink that dark slosh, it's rather amusi