Nostalgic MelodiesHearts are beating faster, with every minute passed. Whimsical tones can be heard flowing out of a grand piano. Rhythmic symphonies were being released by a woman playing her heart out. Her hair swaying with every glide of her fingers as she touches the keys to a man’s heart. Laguna was just watching. At awe with her elegant movements he just stared from afar. He never took his eyes off her. The two exchanged glances, stolen moments embedded deep in his memory. With every note his heart pounds faster. Sweat was dripping down his face. Laguna tried to stand up once but sat down a second after. He was taken aback.Nostalgic Melodies
Then he sigh
In Mournful RemembranceA man is walking through the empty walkways of an abandoned cemetery. His coat is as black as the shadows around him. His hat is as battered as the burden he carries in his heart. He had pale skin, his bronze hair scrappily overlapping the glow in his eyes. He was rugged and alone while walking along the hallow chambers of remembrance. It was agonizing. He was tenaciously looking for a certain tombstone. While striding he catches a glimpse of a familiar sight. It was an old oak tree.In Mournful Remembrance
A dead grand oak is standing in the middle of the desolate cemetery. Its branches were dried and shriveled. It was clear that flames once set it ab
Dreams on FireTonight I shall dream of a part For the one who holds my heart, She whose love I have longed for, She whose affection I implore.Dreams on Fire
To the stars I seek of a date For our lives to be bound by fate, As I wish for these dreams on fire Pray for my heart’s true desire.
Into her gentle arms I declare Hoping the maiden shall hold me fair, Of the love bearing deep in my heart, Wish for a time we will never part.
To the heavens I shall beseech That she of the fair will be preached, So I would bare open my soul, Of a love that shall make me
In Time, My Last ValentineI still remember the sunset from which your hair blew my way. The way how you slowly gazed at me, how your voiced sounded sweet when you called me from afar… I can still remember that time, that moment we’ve spent together. That special day, embedded in my memory. The long walks along that solitary boulevard. The way the sun reflected your long, elegant hair. I remember the feeling, how the day went on and how it ended. For it was the first valentine that I’ve spent with you… sadly it was the last time too. That special moment turned into bits and fragments of my own memory. I guess this really was our last valentine togetIn Time, My Last Valentine
Urban Hyolee
Death.Can you hear the voices calling through the rain? Can you see the bodies rushing to us I am sure you cannot The rain is falling down hard Covering our useless bodies Here we lay, Broken and torn inside Hell is only a moment away, Hush now, and be patient The pain will end very soon, The world will soon disappear from our obstructed viewDeath.
Black roses could never tell, What would held aside for troubled minds Come now; Take my hand I’ll show you a world where only you and I exist Come now; Cover your eyes Blind your eyes
Romantic Legacy (Last Valentine)
Content
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"Goodbyes may be worse at times when expressed with sorrow, guilt and a rose.."
~♥
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Some people say they haven't yet found themselves. But the self is not something one finds; it is something one creates.
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"Goodbyes may be worse at times when expressed with sorrow, guilt and a rose.."
~♥
take care
sorry for the late reply by the way
-Janna
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im janna,15 yrs old, pinay
soon to be digital artist.
*PhotomanipulatorClub
*flower-lovers
free subcription
--
im janna,15 yrs old, pinay
soon to be digital artist.
*PhotomanipulatorClub
*flower-lovers
free subcription
--
Some people say they haven't yet found themselves. But the self is not something one finds; it is something one creates.
[link]
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if you're not living on the edge, you're taking up too much space.
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Some people say they haven't yet found themselves. But the self is not something one finds; it is something one creates.
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"...with eyes overflowing with surfeit of color, I am still almost inarticulate. We need a whole new vocabulary, adequately, to describe the designs and colors of under sea."
-William Beebe, 1928, Beneath Tropic Seas
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Some people say they haven't yet found themselves. But the self is not something one finds; it is something one creates.
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