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Beautiful Like...

Beautiful Like...
STOP! Right there. I want to remember this image for the rest of my life. I want to remember the shape of your thighs clamped tight around mine, the shine of your tangled hair, the sheen of the impassioned sweat on your slender, outstretched arms, and the gleam of the blade on that really big knife you’re holding. Just stop, because I’ve got to tell you something:you’re beautiful. And I don’t mean run-of-the-mill girl-next-door kind of beautiful You are stunningly, terrifyingly, shock-and-awe beautiful. Stop. I’ll still love you, baby.

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Do not stand at my grave and weep - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia - StumbleUpon Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep is a poem written in 1932 by Mary Elizabeth Frye. Although the origin of the poem was disputed until later in her life, Mary Frye's authorship was confirmed in 1998 after research by Abigail Van Buren, a newspaper columnist.[1] Full text[edit]

The Egg The Egg By: Andy Weir You were on your way home when you died. It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. 100 Exquisite Adjectives By Mark Nichol Adjectives — descriptive words that modify nouns — often come under fire for their cluttering quality, but often it’s quality, not quantity, that is the issue. Plenty of tired adjectives are available to spoil a good sentence, but when you find just the right word for the job, enrichment ensues. Shakespeare Sonnet 116 - Let me not to the marriage of true minds More to Explore Introduction to Shakespeare's Sonnets Shakespearean Sonnet Style How to Analyze a Shakespearean Sonnet The Rules of Shakespearean Sonnets Shakespeare's Sonnets: Q & A

If you were the sky and I were the sea. by Duck If you were the skyThen I'd be the seaAnd when you shined brightIt would reflect in me.When you're at restThen I am steady.If you wanna get roughI'm always ready.Past closing at the barsIf you show me the starsI'll open right upAnd cast them out far.And on the darkest nightIf you won't shine a light.Then I'm silent alongside youUntil you feel right.We'll meet at the horizonWhere lovers will stareAnd wonder with passionWhy they can't meet there.And you'll share me a kissAs bright as two suns.When they meet in the middleI'll know the days done.And I can tell that's your way of saying to me.Goodnight my love.If you were the sky and I were the sea.

Time Does Not Bring Relief: You All Have Lied by Edna St. Vincent Millay by PoetryGrrrl on March 25, 2014 Time does not bring relief; you all have lied Who told me time would ease me of my pain! I miss him in the weeping of the rain; I want him at the shrinking of the tide; The old snows melt from every mountain-side, And last year’s leaves are smoke in every lane; But last year’s bitter loving must remain Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide.

Shakespeare Sonnet 29 - When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes More to Explore Introduction to Shakespeare's Sonnets Shakespearean Sonnet Style An Entomologist's Last Love Letter by Jared Singer dear samanthai’m sorrywe have to get a divorcei know that seems like an odd way to start a love letter but let me explain:it’s not youit sure as hell isn’t meit’s just human beings don’t love as well as insects doi love you.. far too much to let what we have be ruined by the failings of our species i saw the way you looked at the waiter last nighti know you would never DO anything, you never do but..i saw the way you looked at the waiter last night did you know that when a female fly accepts the pheromones put off by a male fly, it re-writes her brain, destroys the receptors that receive pheromones, sensing the change, the male fly does the same. when two flies love each other they do it so hard, they will never love anything else ever again. if either one of them dies before procreation can happen both sets of genetic code are lost forever. now that… is dedication. this is not true

The Second Coming - Yeats William Butler Yeats (1865-1939) Turning and turning in the widening gyre The falcon cannot hear the falconer; Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere The ceremony of innocence is drowned; The best lack all conviction, while the worst Are full of passionate intensity. Surely some revelation is at hand; Surely the Second Coming is at hand. The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand; A shape with lion body and the head of a man, A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun, Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.

Though I Am Young and Cannot Tell accent: emphasis given a syllable in ordinary usage, as provided by a pronouncing dictionary. See also stress. accentual-syllabic:

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