<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7112252601792021324</id><updated>2011-12-06T22:24:31.472-08:00</updated><category term='Getting you back'/><category term='Metaphors'/><category term='Short Stories'/><category term='Hope'/><category term='Endlessly'/><category term='Despair Faction'/><category term='doctors'/><category term='heaven'/><category term='death'/><category term='light'/><category term='nothing new'/><category term='Ghosts'/><category term='sleepwalking'/><category term='Water'/><category term='freedom'/><category term='When Night Time Evades'/><category term='False Comfort'/><category term='losing you'/><category term='Angels'/><category term='Dredge'/><category term='Home is where the heart is'/><category term='tears'/><category term='Returing love'/><category term='light in darkness'/><category term='Faith'/><category term='Pain'/><category term='Nature'/><category term='abandonment'/><category term='Far away'/><category term='Comfort'/><category term='Never Apart'/><category term='Forums'/><category term='joy'/><category term='Loss'/><category term='holding on'/><category term='Flowers'/><category term='Mate'/><category term='Life'/><category term='Modern Theme'/><category term='The west'/><category term='To Feel'/><category term='Love'/><category term='New Album'/><category term='Feilds'/><category term='unconditonal'/><category term='More To You'/><category term='Emotions'/><category term='Two'/><category term='Depression'/><category term='Part 2'/><category term='Short Story'/><category term='letting go finally'/><category term='The east'/><category term='Thirty Seconds To Mars'/><category term='Family'/><category term='prose'/><category term='Nothing'/><category term='Savior'/><category term='Still In The Mourning'/><category term='Parking Garages'/><category term='contentment'/><category term='Hello'/><category term='Opposites Attract'/><category term='Not Feeling Anything'/><category term='Free Parking'/><category term='New'/><category term='being cared for'/><category term='Forever'/><category term='In Your Eyes'/><category term='In My Heart'/><category term='Poetry'/><category term='True'/><category term='Butterflies'/><category term='My Escape'/><category term='AFI'/><category term='Agony'/><category term='Souls'/><category term='Oceans'/><category term='Music'/><category term='Rivers'/><category term='Moving On'/><category term='Hopeing'/><category term='Poem'/><category term='Wanting You To Love Me'/><category term='Metaphores'/><category term='The Seashell In A Sea Of Shells'/><category term='Haunting'/><category term='Not Ever Never Forever'/><category term='Melancholy Blue'/><category term='Feeling Everything'/><category term='Earth'/><category term='Lusting'/><category term='Brick Walls'/><category term='loveless'/><category term='Time'/><category term='Wishing'/><category term='hopelessness'/><category term='Wind'/><category term='fear'/><category term='Dreams'/><category term='The Woods'/><category term='medicine'/><category term='Sadness'/><title type='text'>The Seashell In A Sea Of Shells</title><subtitle type='html'>Stars make wishes come true. Poetry is strength for the weak. Time cauterizes wounds. Music saves your life.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7112252601792021324/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>WitheredRose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00917379711437944308</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QOeR4PnyxwM/Tt8GlDCM7UI/AAAAAAAAADI/RV6SRJPiECw/s220/image201110140001.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>18</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7112252601792021324.post-312975894054701390</id><published>2011-12-06T22:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-06T22:21:21.250-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Modern Theme'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='New'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Bars</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;SixFourThreeTwoNineEightFiveFourOneNine:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel the laughter from the night before&lt;br /&gt;How delightful and sweet&lt;br /&gt;Filling the caverns of mind space&lt;br /&gt;Finding homes in summer suns&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SixFourThreeEightFourSevenFourFourZeroTwo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vice grip snipping the wings of the bird&lt;br /&gt;Forcefully dragging downward&lt;br /&gt;Nothing spiritual about this&lt;br /&gt;I’m just in a cage&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SevenSevenTwoZeroEightOneOneFiveZeroFive:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All you’ll earn is a blank stare&lt;br /&gt;Trying to play the fool&lt;br /&gt;Not going to make a dime at court&lt;br /&gt;A block is probably the best option&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SixFourThreeSevenZeroFourOneOneNineFive&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wide eyes see passion and opportunity as one&lt;br /&gt;Can’t lightning strike one last time?&lt;br /&gt;Though it’s funny how you forget&lt;br /&gt;Please just hear me out…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SIGNAL LOST. MESSAGE FAILED TO SEND.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s for the best.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7112252601792021324-312975894054701390?l=aseaofshells.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/feeds/312975894054701390/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/2011/12/bars.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7112252601792021324/posts/default/312975894054701390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7112252601792021324/posts/default/312975894054701390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/2011/12/bars.html' title='Bars'/><author><name>WitheredRose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00917379711437944308</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QOeR4PnyxwM/Tt8GlDCM7UI/AAAAAAAAADI/RV6SRJPiECw/s220/image201110140001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7112252601792021324.post-4016443504764542251</id><published>2010-04-16T22:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-16T22:37:33.244-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='heaven'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='contentment'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='being cared for'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='light'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='freedom'/><title type='text'>Sincere Nights</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"&gt;At night we all felt the same&lt;br /&gt;And I felt the breeze&lt;br /&gt;A quite wisper across my skin&lt;br /&gt;Holding fast&lt;br /&gt;Surrounding me like mist&lt;br /&gt;Like moonlight&lt;br /&gt;Like falling leaves&lt;br /&gt;Easily penetrating my lungs&lt;br /&gt;So warm and so free&lt;br /&gt;Comforting and holding me close&lt;br /&gt;All but holding me back&lt;br /&gt;The beauty of it all consumed me&lt;br /&gt;As my eyes fixed upon the stars&lt;br /&gt;That would shine like your own&lt;br /&gt;And I am fixated&lt;br /&gt;Content&lt;br /&gt;Secure&lt;br /&gt;With something better than oxygen&lt;br /&gt;It's all I need&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7112252601792021324-4016443504764542251?l=aseaofshells.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/feeds/4016443504764542251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/2010/04/sincere-nights.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7112252601792021324/posts/default/4016443504764542251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7112252601792021324/posts/default/4016443504764542251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/2010/04/sincere-nights.html' title='Sincere Nights'/><author><name>WitheredRose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00917379711437944308</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QOeR4PnyxwM/Tt8GlDCM7UI/AAAAAAAAADI/RV6SRJPiECw/s220/image201110140001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7112252601792021324.post-395163515666520939</id><published>2010-04-06T17:22:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-06T17:22:57.231-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='letting go finally'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='joy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dreams'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sleepwalking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='freedom'/><title type='text'>Somnambulant</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"&gt;A walk&lt;br /&gt;A whisper&lt;br /&gt;Linger&lt;br /&gt;Get closer&lt;br /&gt;Your mind's eye&lt;br /&gt;Draw closer now&lt;br /&gt;A dream&lt;br /&gt;A flicker&lt;br /&gt;Sunrise&lt;br /&gt;Will hold&lt;br /&gt;This memory&lt;br /&gt;Still holding on&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7112252601792021324-395163515666520939?l=aseaofshells.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/feeds/395163515666520939/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/2010/04/somnambulant.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7112252601792021324/posts/default/395163515666520939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7112252601792021324/posts/default/395163515666520939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/2010/04/somnambulant.html' title='Somnambulant'/><author><name>WitheredRose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00917379711437944308</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QOeR4PnyxwM/Tt8GlDCM7UI/AAAAAAAAADI/RV6SRJPiECw/s220/image201110140001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7112252601792021324.post-3674791369238124635</id><published>2010-01-28T19:13:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-28T19:13:41.390-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='prose'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pain'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='loveless'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='doctors'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tears'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='abandonment'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='medicine'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nothing new'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hopelessness'/><title type='text'>STATic</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; text-align: left;"&gt;I found, there's nothing to this underneath&lt;br /&gt;Just a fight for lives uncertain&lt;span class="Apple-converted-space"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No matter what happens the outcome feels the same&lt;br /&gt;So if I hurry&lt;br /&gt;I'll still be here all the same&lt;br /&gt;I was kidding myself to think&lt;br /&gt;That a hospital bed with wheels&lt;br /&gt;Meant a smoother recovery&lt;br /&gt;Or that every time the vital signs drop&lt;br /&gt;That the doctor will find medication in time&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were all left wondering where the quality of life went&lt;br /&gt;Hooked up to a thousand machines&lt;br /&gt;Everyone would like to think they'd help&lt;br /&gt;But they only preserve the dead&lt;br /&gt;On the days when I'm breathing&lt;br /&gt;Or the days when I'm gasping&lt;br /&gt;It all reads the same&lt;br /&gt;I'm living&lt;br /&gt;At the cost&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cause I'm done here&lt;br /&gt;My life's lost most of it's recognition&lt;br /&gt;For most my wounds are nothing now&lt;br /&gt;Their friends been gone so long&lt;br /&gt;That the cards and balloons are further in between&lt;br /&gt;A way of life, no longer an emergency&lt;span class="Apple-converted-space"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm living like this everyday&lt;br /&gt;Like the beep on the LCD&lt;br /&gt;Never stops, and when it dose, CPR is administered&lt;br /&gt;All the same&lt;br /&gt;Everyday&lt;br /&gt;My walls are white&lt;br /&gt;The color I'll never see&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7112252601792021324-3674791369238124635?l=aseaofshells.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/feeds/3674791369238124635/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/2010/01/static.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7112252601792021324/posts/default/3674791369238124635'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7112252601792021324/posts/default/3674791369238124635'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/2010/01/static.html' title='STATic'/><author><name>WitheredRose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00917379711437944308</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QOeR4PnyxwM/Tt8GlDCM7UI/AAAAAAAAADI/RV6SRJPiECw/s220/image201110140001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7112252601792021324.post-5735086135057173761</id><published>2009-11-05T19:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-05T19:57:08.842-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hope'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Getting you back'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='losing you'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='death'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='holding on'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fear'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Metaphors'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Returing love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='medicine'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Post-op</title><content type='html'>I've been tending these words for weeks&lt;br /&gt;Scripting them in living breath&lt;br /&gt;Mercilessly trying to erase&lt;br /&gt;The cold embrace of death&lt;br /&gt;I can still feel it on my finger tips&lt;br /&gt;Can I still beat this yet?&lt;br /&gt;Fighting for all that I hang to&lt;br /&gt;Scraping at the edge&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some days I walk on the ground&lt;br /&gt;While others have me walk on glass&lt;br /&gt;On days I stand strong&lt;br /&gt;I remind myself not to tear stitches&lt;br /&gt;Move slowly and resist the infection&lt;br /&gt;Keep going this delicate balance&lt;br /&gt;Which no one understands&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Living more afraid&lt;br /&gt;With much less confidence&lt;br /&gt;Flinching to brace for the next hit&lt;br /&gt;Beaten down&lt;br /&gt;Eyes cast up to look for the sun&lt;br /&gt;Anxious to see what I will find&lt;br /&gt;Trying to take what's given&lt;br /&gt;Bring it needed oxygen&lt;br /&gt;Before a flat line&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cherish so this blessing&lt;br /&gt;Take it deep&lt;br /&gt;Here now and to all time&lt;br /&gt;Taking only as needed&lt;br /&gt;Resting up as best I can&lt;br /&gt;Transplants take time to heal&lt;br /&gt;Guess for this placement&lt;br /&gt;First, none, or last&lt;br /&gt;I don't regret&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7112252601792021324-5735086135057173761?l=aseaofshells.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/feeds/5735086135057173761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/2009/11/post-op.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7112252601792021324/posts/default/5735086135057173761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7112252601792021324/posts/default/5735086135057173761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/2009/11/post-op.html' title='Post-op'/><author><name>WitheredRose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00917379711437944308</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QOeR4PnyxwM/Tt8GlDCM7UI/AAAAAAAAADI/RV6SRJPiECw/s220/image201110140001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7112252601792021324.post-3499883440048460888</id><published>2009-10-11T09:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-11T09:09:22.730-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Secret Is Out</title><content type='html'>I knew it was true&lt;br /&gt;What you knew&lt;br /&gt;Swore you'd never known&lt;br /&gt;But you know now&lt;br /&gt;You know too well&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the secret is out&lt;br /&gt;And the secret is out&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sky is colder&lt;br /&gt;You look up now&lt;br /&gt;Swore it was down&lt;br /&gt;To find what you found&lt;br /&gt;Underground&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's raining now&lt;br /&gt;It's raining now&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fingers on glass&lt;br /&gt;You retained their shape&lt;br /&gt;Swore they melted away&lt;br /&gt;Feel then fade&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've lost the day&lt;br /&gt;I've lost the day&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7112252601792021324-3499883440048460888?l=aseaofshells.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/feeds/3499883440048460888/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/2009/10/secret-is-out.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7112252601792021324/posts/default/3499883440048460888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7112252601792021324/posts/default/3499883440048460888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/2009/10/secret-is-out.html' title='The Secret Is Out'/><author><name>WitheredRose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00917379711437944308</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QOeR4PnyxwM/Tt8GlDCM7UI/AAAAAAAAADI/RV6SRJPiECw/s220/image201110140001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7112252601792021324.post-8451910249815096538</id><published>2009-10-09T18:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-09T18:54:37.916-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hope'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='unconditonal'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='light in darkness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Feeling Everything'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Another Serenade</title><content type='html'>Fight or flight&lt;br /&gt;Compared in the light&lt;br /&gt;Mediocre compared to your way&lt;br /&gt;Mine should never see day&lt;br /&gt;In Sorrow I swallow&lt;br /&gt;And blindly follow&lt;br /&gt;Would for you everything fade&lt;br /&gt;Or change to bring a smile to your face&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If my personality found to be distilled&lt;br /&gt;I'd take my life for your will&lt;br /&gt;My reflection I would run&lt;br /&gt;It brings agony to what I love&lt;br /&gt;Take it through I'll shatter glass&lt;br /&gt;Destroying what I cannot touch&lt;br /&gt;Found something strong for you&lt;br /&gt;If only there to get you through&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Darkest night&lt;br /&gt;In nothing right&lt;br /&gt;Beauty fleeting away&lt;br /&gt;You swore you saw today&lt;br /&gt;While life no longer needs to be discussed&lt;br /&gt;Time stood still just for us&lt;br /&gt;And as long as you need this way&lt;br /&gt;I wont fight my will to stay&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7112252601792021324-8451910249815096538?l=aseaofshells.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/feeds/8451910249815096538/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/2009/10/another-serenade.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7112252601792021324/posts/default/8451910249815096538'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7112252601792021324/posts/default/8451910249815096538'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/2009/10/another-serenade.html' title='Another Serenade'/><author><name>WitheredRose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00917379711437944308</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QOeR4PnyxwM/Tt8GlDCM7UI/AAAAAAAAADI/RV6SRJPiECw/s220/image201110140001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7112252601792021324.post-7709647379839935404</id><published>2009-08-22T20:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-22T20:18:24.500-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The east'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Home is where the heart is'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rivers'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pain'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Wind'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The west'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Oceans'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Far away'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love'/><title type='text'>Days Are Numbers</title><content type='html'>Had a dream&lt;br /&gt;Seemed long as the night&lt;br /&gt;Broken put together&lt;br /&gt;I'd breathe had I the time&lt;br /&gt;For tears that burn&lt;br /&gt;One, two, for you&lt;br /&gt;In time our moment&lt;br /&gt;While endless rivers run through&lt;br /&gt;Could a heart be given?&lt;br /&gt;Kept secure and safe?&lt;br /&gt;Please retain this for me&lt;br /&gt;And I'll hold fast&lt;br /&gt;Find strength to follow through&lt;br /&gt;Unceasing like the river&lt;br /&gt;Sifting down&lt;br /&gt;They all meet at the ocean&lt;br /&gt;Those oceans will greet the shore&lt;br /&gt;When the wind heads me that way&lt;br /&gt;I will be home&lt;br /&gt;With a message in a bottle&lt;br /&gt;Words wrote&lt;br /&gt;You will keep&lt;br /&gt;Held against that heart&lt;br /&gt;I will be present, but free&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7112252601792021324-7709647379839935404?l=aseaofshells.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/feeds/7709647379839935404/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/2009/08/days-are-numbers.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7112252601792021324/posts/default/7709647379839935404'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7112252601792021324/posts/default/7709647379839935404'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/2009/08/days-are-numbers.html' title='Days Are Numbers'/><author><name>WitheredRose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00917379711437944308</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QOeR4PnyxwM/Tt8GlDCM7UI/AAAAAAAAADI/RV6SRJPiECw/s220/image201110140001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7112252601792021324.post-3372775353639341007</id><published>2009-05-25T14:50:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-25T14:52:22.789-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hope'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Angels'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mate'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Two'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Savior'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Metaphors'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Souls'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Escape'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Forever'/><title type='text'>My Escape</title><content type='html'>I could see it all around me&lt;br /&gt;And there was no escape&lt;br /&gt;Crowded&lt;br /&gt;Surrounded&lt;br /&gt;But the light&lt;br /&gt;How bright it burns&lt;br /&gt;Coursing through me&lt;br /&gt;I watch and wait&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From still darkness&lt;br /&gt;My reason to live escapes&lt;br /&gt;Guided&lt;br /&gt;Blinded&lt;br /&gt;The brightest one&lt;br /&gt;Leads my life again&lt;br /&gt;I know what it is&lt;br /&gt;An angel given to me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now it consumes my soul&lt;br /&gt;I refuse to let it escape&lt;br /&gt;Comforted&lt;br /&gt;Exalted&lt;br /&gt;It so burns&lt;br /&gt;Made me new again&lt;br /&gt;Forever it shall remain&lt;br /&gt;Through all these days&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7112252601792021324-3372775353639341007?l=aseaofshells.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/feeds/3372775353639341007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/2009/05/my-escape.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7112252601792021324/posts/default/3372775353639341007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7112252601792021324/posts/default/3372775353639341007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/2009/05/my-escape.html' title='My Escape'/><author><name>WitheredRose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00917379711437944308</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QOeR4PnyxwM/Tt8GlDCM7UI/AAAAAAAAADI/RV6SRJPiECw/s220/image201110140001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7112252601792021324.post-8636139920878798930</id><published>2009-05-25T14:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-25T14:52:42.745-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hope'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Brick Walls'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Flowers'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Free Parking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poem'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Feilds'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parking Garages'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Butterflies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='True'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Free Parking</title><content type='html'>It was then&lt;br /&gt;When we could see it&lt;br /&gt;Sitting hand in hand&lt;br /&gt;An ocean of green before us&lt;br /&gt;With a warm breeze caressing it into waves&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And there were butterflies&lt;br /&gt;With both angelic and metallic wings&lt;br /&gt;Flitting across the cloud filled sky&lt;br /&gt;Landing in wild flowers&lt;br /&gt;Orange and grey before our eyes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All around us were gentle shadows&lt;br /&gt;Spotting the earth which surrounds&lt;br /&gt;Cast by a great and towering tree&lt;br /&gt;Branching out before us&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Underneath us was a blanket&lt;br /&gt;Worn and newly warmed&lt;br /&gt;As the sun wrapped around us&lt;br /&gt;With it's delicate and beautiful arms&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything then could last forever&lt;br /&gt;As our soft voices mix in the wind&lt;br /&gt;It was all eternally perfect&lt;br /&gt;When we stared into the bricks&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7112252601792021324-8636139920878798930?l=aseaofshells.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/feeds/8636139920878798930/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/2009/05/free-parking.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7112252601792021324/posts/default/8636139920878798930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7112252601792021324/posts/default/8636139920878798930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/2009/05/free-parking.html' title='Free Parking'/><author><name>WitheredRose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00917379711437944308</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QOeR4PnyxwM/Tt8GlDCM7UI/AAAAAAAAADI/RV6SRJPiECw/s220/image201110140001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7112252601792021324.post-5038228768283674457</id><published>2009-05-25T14:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-25T14:53:06.021-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='In My Heart'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Never Apart'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Endlessly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Faith'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Not Ever Never Forever'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Time'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poem'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love'/><title type='text'>Not Ever Never Forever</title><content type='html'>Every moment we're together&lt;br /&gt;Makes up for every moment we're apart&lt;br /&gt;And every moment we're apart&lt;br /&gt;Makes time drag on forever&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I do look forward to forever&lt;br /&gt;And hope to never part&lt;br /&gt;Still if our next meeting seems close to never&lt;br /&gt;Just look into your heart&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You'll be deep in mine forever&lt;br /&gt;While there I'm deep in your arms&lt;br /&gt;So dearest never say never&lt;br /&gt;Since we are never really ever apart&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7112252601792021324-5038228768283674457?l=aseaofshells.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/feeds/5038228768283674457/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/2009/05/not-ever-never-forever.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7112252601792021324/posts/default/5038228768283674457'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7112252601792021324/posts/default/5038228768283674457'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/2009/05/not-ever-never-forever.html' title='Not Ever Never Forever'/><author><name>WitheredRose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00917379711437944308</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QOeR4PnyxwM/Tt8GlDCM7UI/AAAAAAAAADI/RV6SRJPiECw/s220/image201110140001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7112252601792021324.post-3925025988167590920</id><published>2009-04-21T20:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-21T20:58:15.074-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Opposites Attract'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Water'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Wind'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nature'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Metaphores'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Earth'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Comfort'/><title type='text'>Where The Sky Meets The Sea</title><content type='html'>Rivers back where the earth bends&lt;br /&gt;Water rushes through time well spent&lt;br /&gt;Wishing wherever it roams&lt;br /&gt;Still barely contained&lt;br /&gt;In oceanic homes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wind finds it’s currents in the sky&lt;br /&gt;Pulls clouds through and behind&lt;br /&gt;With it’s path it shakes the trees&lt;br /&gt;Causes a rain&lt;br /&gt;Of autumn leaves&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still from afar I smell the water&lt;br /&gt;Salt from the ocean waves&lt;br /&gt;Wafts through with the breeze&lt;br /&gt;Bringing this love&lt;br /&gt;On wings to me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For both will conflict&lt;br /&gt;But still so they remain&lt;br /&gt;And let winds lap water unto the shore&lt;br /&gt;Holding us with it each day&lt;br /&gt;Still side by side&lt;br /&gt;One and the same…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7112252601792021324-3925025988167590920?l=aseaofshells.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/feeds/3925025988167590920/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/2009/04/where-sky-meets-sea.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7112252601792021324/posts/default/3925025988167590920'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7112252601792021324/posts/default/3925025988167590920'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/2009/04/where-sky-meets-sea.html' title='Where The Sky Meets The Sea'/><author><name>WitheredRose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00917379711437944308</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QOeR4PnyxwM/Tt8GlDCM7UI/AAAAAAAAADI/RV6SRJPiECw/s220/image201110140001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7112252601792021324.post-5055439028104842019</id><published>2009-02-27T20:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-27T20:39:48.092-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='More To You'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sadness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Feeling Everything'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Wishing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Woods'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lusting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nothing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Melancholy Blue'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hopeing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Wanting You To Love Me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poem'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='In Your Eyes'/><title type='text'>Melancholy Blue</title><content type='html'>Could I see it in your eyes?&lt;br /&gt;Could no one else see it&lt;br /&gt;Are they all blind?&lt;br /&gt;Or is it all a reflection?&lt;br /&gt;Of the light in a certain way&lt;br /&gt;That makes them seem sadder in mine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it could be nothing&lt;br /&gt;Just you not smiling&lt;br /&gt;Doesn't mean your depressed&lt;br /&gt;Doesn't mean your not trying&lt;br /&gt;To be happy with this&lt;br /&gt;If it's what you really want&lt;br /&gt;Or are there ghosts in your heart?&lt;br /&gt;The kind that haunt&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They do say it's all in them&lt;br /&gt;A window for your soul's viewing&lt;br /&gt;So unless I am mistaken&lt;br /&gt;In your eyes your hearts breakin'&lt;br /&gt;And nothing could matter more than this&lt;br /&gt;So don't scream, I'll keep your from the abyss&lt;br /&gt;I'll heal you if you'll let me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To think of how they capture me&lt;br /&gt;Beautiful as they are with infinite sadness&lt;br /&gt;Because I try to look past things&lt;br /&gt;So when I see those eyes I tend to look away&lt;br /&gt;Not out of shyness, but out of anguish&lt;br /&gt;For in those eyes I see that you have died&lt;br /&gt;And the sight simply destroys me&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7112252601792021324-5055439028104842019?l=aseaofshells.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/feeds/5055439028104842019/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/2009/02/melancholy-blue.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7112252601792021324/posts/default/5055439028104842019'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7112252601792021324/posts/default/5055439028104842019'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/2009/02/melancholy-blue.html' title='Melancholy Blue'/><author><name>WitheredRose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00917379711437944308</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QOeR4PnyxwM/Tt8GlDCM7UI/AAAAAAAAADI/RV6SRJPiECw/s220/image201110140001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7112252601792021324.post-4325940212914431058</id><published>2009-02-08T20:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-26T19:23:04.419-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Agony'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Woods'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Not Feeling Anything'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Emotions'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pain'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dreams'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Short Story'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Loss'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='To Feel'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Feeling Everything'/><title type='text'>To Feel</title><content type='html'>With a sigh he returned to his room very late at night. He felt little to no remorse over what he had just done. He hadn’t hurt anyone, hadn’t hurt her. He didn’t regret it now, and not even the first time. It’s not like they had done anything bad. He had done way more before. And after all, she, or at least he hoped she had, enjoyed herself too. He could see she was slowly coming past her unusual shyness. He was helping her with that. For when she finally found someone to seriously love. There was nothing wrong with that. Nothing lost, but hopefully something gained. Maybe trust.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;He couldn’t explain why he wanted to, why he needed the physical contact so badly. He wanted to blame hormones, but he new that wasn’t all of it. To just touch someone like that was so electric, made him feel insanely alive. It made him feel more than he ever felt, ever. Almost like a drug, almost like a curse, almost everything, to him anyway. Most days he wouldn’t even question it. But it made him feel real and alive. To him, that’s all that mattered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He stripped off his shirt and threw it onto the floor as he climbed into bed. He easily slipped of his jeans, leaving him in only his sox and boxers. He knew he would be absolutely dead the next morning at work. But again, at the moment, it felt like it had been worth it. He tried to drift off to sleep, but he had far too much adrenaline flowing through his veins. He tossed and turned in his bed, trying unsuccessfully to get comfortable underneath his sheets. Because all he could think of was what it would be like, if she were with him in them. He wished he could have spent the whole night with her, just to keep the rush going. He stared at his hands, his arms, in the darkness and tried to picture her in them. He wanted so badly to still feel her bear skin against his chest. To feel her delicate body in his hands.  So soft, so warm… a shiver ran up his spine. ‘No‘, he mentally scolded himself ’Your  trying to get some sleep’.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However it continued to elude him. Of coarse she was special to him. Every girl he had ever been with  was. It wasn’t as though he felt nothing, which is what people often thought. He wasn’t a heartless monster who cared for nothing more than sex. He was human, so he was made to feel. And yes he felt more for her than most of the others. Love? No. He had never loved anyone. He never actually looked for it. He never felt the need to. He thought that it was something that would come to him in time, so to look for what would only come at a certain right time would be pointless. To look for what he never understood was pointless. He knew someone things would be understood in time at the right time, and he never thought of it as anything more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His mind finally began to drift off to sleep. His heart rate finally began to slow down and his body relaxed. His eye lids grew heavy as the sound of his overhead fan lulled him into unconsciousness.  He wondered what she looked like when she slept. Images flashed behind his closed eye lids.  Eyes, hair, skin, hands, breasts… images of her. They refused to part from his mind, so he let them become a slide show, a last glimpse of the night he had, before the darkness lend into a new day. Just before he fell asleep he felt it. A slight twinge in his chest. A faltering beat in his heart. It almost distracted him from the dream he was falling into… almost…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;   He stood in a hallway. It was very dimly lit. The walls were white, the carpet was grey. There were pictures, of at least two or three dozen people on the walls. He knew he knew who they were, he just couldn’t place names with faces at the moment. They all looked sad, like they had been taken during a funeral. He walked down the hallway, and entered the door at the end.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The next room was extremely small, and familiar. The interior was leather and a grayish color. It was his car. ‘Why is my car here?’ he wondered. But yes, it was his car. He would recognize it anywhere. Sitting in the backseat, was her. In her hands was a red, pulsating object, which was oozing  a thick red liquid. She didn’t look nearly as shocked to see him as he was to see her. She gave him an inviting smile and said: “I knew you would come”. He tried to speak, be he couldn’t seem to find the strength to open his mouth, so she continued: “I know you weren’t really expecting me to be here… and I’m sorry if this is a bad time… but I really need to talk to you… about they way things are between us right now…”.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;At that time he finally found his words:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What do you mean… things are fine…” he found he couldn’t look her in the eyes.&lt;br /&gt;“How are they fine? I can’t keep doing this… being this to you…”.&lt;br /&gt;“Being what?”.&lt;br /&gt;“Just some girl you can screw around with… just because you know you can… and then not talk to for months until you decide you need her again”.&lt;br /&gt;“But… but I said we would talk more… I said it wasn’t like that…”&lt;br /&gt;“Well it obviously seems to be going in that direction” the object in her hand flinched and oozed more liquid. “Do you really even care at all?”.&lt;br /&gt;“Yes of coarse I do! I told you that…”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   She looked away from him. Her face was pale as a ghost, and she had dark circles under her eyes. They were  red and puffy, like she had been crying for hours at a time. ‘She cried, over me?’, he wondered ‘Why? I’m not much to cry over…’. She shivered. She looked so cold to him. He was overcome with the sudden urge to make her warm. Not for his own personal gain, but just because she looked absolutely miserable, and he couldn’t take seeing her that way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I’m so sorry… I promise… I swear I’ll make it different this time.” he said.&lt;br /&gt;“I don’t believe you. Because you tell that to everyone don’t you?” she paused for a moment “Listen I can’t do this. It emotionally drains me too much. I need a boyfriend not a guy to mess with”.&lt;br /&gt;“I understand… I’ll date you if you want me to--”&lt;br /&gt;“I thrive so much on emotions… I need to feel things… to feel affection and love…” she interrupted “That an only physical relationship can only hurt me…”. The object in her hand sputtered, and a small fountain of liquid flowed out of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   He looked closer at the object, still not quite comprehending what it was. He felt his stomach roll. ‘Oh my god it’s her heart…’ he realized with horror. Mortified, he tried desperately to keep his balance. He leaned against the car door for stability. It looked as though it had been freshly cut from her, even though there was no hole in her chest. The beating organ oozed blood, despite the fact that it was not hooked to any veins or arteries.  The blood ran down her hands and dripped onto her shirt and jeans. On the outside of it were names. Seemingly carved into it with a knife or some other type of sharp blade. They were boy’s names, thought most of them were just scars, or still healing. His name, was the only one that was still bleeding. He flinched inwardly at the physical depiction of her pain. He could feel it. Feel her pain. This was quite new to him. He had always been able to sympathize with  people, but never had he been able to actually know the pain they were in. He understood now…&lt;br /&gt;   She said:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“It’s okay, your not the first to do this… and since this is me I know you wont be the last” she sighed and looked down at the throbbing heart in her hands.&lt;br /&gt;“But… but…” still he couldn’t find the words for his horror and anguish.&lt;br /&gt;“This is just a representation of my emotional wounds, for they are far worse than you could imagine. But it’s okay, really it is, I just wanted you to see what it was like… I’m so sorry… I just wanted you to understand… I thought if you did I would become more to you…” her voice barely above a whisper “Or even if you didn’t, just so someone can maybe… someone can be more to you… someday…”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   At last  he couldn’t stand it anymore. Despite the blood that covered her clothes he tightly wrapped his arms around her. He felt tears running down his face for the first time in years. Her body felt so light and fragile in his arms, like she wasn’t there at all. For the first time, he realized as he took her hand in his, that her hands were colder than his. He was crying inconsolably, as though he had witnessed the most horrific thing in the world. But in fact he hadn’t really seen anything. He just felt. He felt the pain the she felt. It gripped his heart and held it tightly like a beloved child. This was a pain he that he thought no one should have to endure. But especially not her. No… not her… if anyone deserved to be happy it was her. But she showed him all of this, just so he could find love one day. From someone, anyone. ‘Why?’ he thought ‘I’m not worth this… I’m not worth anything…’.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;   He looked up, trying to see through his tears, when he realized she was gone. Horrified he screamed her name several times at the top of his lungs, only to find he was in his room, in his bed. Awake. Sweat coated his skin, and tears ran down his cheeks. His heart beat erratically in his chest. He took several deep breaths, in an attempt to regain composure of his body. It took over twenty minutes to do so. And when he did he came upon another horrible realization. He felt nothing.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Not like not being able to physically feel things, but emotionally. He had felt so much in that dream. He had felt fear, pain, sorrow… love. Now that he was no longer in the dream he realized that he had never felt any real emotions, ever. Of coarse he had felt mild joy and anger, but never anything like sadness or love. He felt empty now. And he hated it. It felt like he wasn’t even there. Like he was just living in an shell of himself. He wanted to feel, wanted it so badly. Repeatedly in his mind he thought ‘I want to feel, I want to feel! I want to feel something… anything… please…”. But nothing came. The worst part was he couldn’t even panic. He couldn’t do anything but lie there in bed and listen to the even beats of his heart and replay the dream emotionlessly in his mind. But nothing, in his heart, was there. Things were the way they always were, except now, he knew what he was missing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He knew if he felt, he would more often than not, would feel pain. He knew there would be times when the sadness would feel like an ocean that threatened to down him. And he knew that he would feel hopelessness that would be like rocks tied to feet, which would drag him down to the bottom of this ocean. But he knew, that he would be willing to suffer all of that,  for years even, if only, just for one more moment he could feel the love he felt for her in that dream, for just one second longer. So now he knew. Knew why some people he dated had a broken look in their eyes, as they saw through his lies and tried to understand why they simply weren’t good enough. Why the tears ran down their cheeks. Why they looked at him like he was a monster, and why they always came back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was all too real. Yet the clock beside his bed said he had only be asleep for a few minutes. He could see it in his head like a movie, in perfect clearness and color. Why would he even dream of such a thing? And why could he feel so much in a dream, and feel next to nothing in real life? It didn’t make any sense at all. His head was spinning and he felt slightly nauseated. Could it have been really her in his dream? Surely his mind could not come up with such a vibrant dream…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then… a single tear ran down his cheek…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   And if it can be said that hearts can physically break, if you could hear a sound as they broke, if it was a ripping cracking sound, then that’s what he would have said he heard. It was deafening in his ears… and the pain that followed… would be like nothing he had ever even dreamed of experiencing. It tore through his chest, forcing every molecule of oxygen out of his lungs. Instantly tears began running down his cheeks. He dug his fingers into his sheets and squeezed them so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He had to bit down onto his pillow to silence his screams. Never did he think, that when you truly feel, you could ever feel anything like this. He was frightened. Because he wasn’t even sure why this pain was overtaking him in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But no… wait.. The reason was vague but it was becoming clearer with every agonizing beat of his heart. He loved her. With everything thing he had he loved her. And he missed her. And he hated himself entirely for what he had done to her. He knew there was now way she would ever truly trust him, that he undoubtedly had lost her heart forever. That he had lost many hearts over the years, that he had in fact loved many over the years. But he never knew, because he never felt any of it. It was like he lived his entire life as a complete zombie and now he was awake, only it was too late. Because he had lost too much. And surely emotional pain like this must be able to kill, for who could survive something like this?&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;‘She did’ he thought ‘She loved people before and they made her feel just like this… I made her feel like this… and she has felt like this because of others for months, years at a time…’. He couldn’t even imagine what it must have been like. A wave of pain ripped through him, his heart beat at an unnaturally high and uneven rate.  ‘But she endures it all’ he thought ‘Just so she can maybe hope to find real love one day.’. He knew real love must be something truly spectacular if it were worth all of this. Love must be the one thing truly worth fighting for. The one thing… that he had to fight for.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“It can’t be too late…” he whispered weakly. He quickly turned over and reached for his phone, which lie on the nightstand beside his bed. “If I can call her” he began to dial her number “I can talk to her… tell her I’m sorry… tell her I can feel now… I can feel… I can feel and I can feel for her… for everyone now and…” his voice was so broken by sobs that it was almost inaudible “ That I can love her… if she’ll only have me… and… we can… stop the pain… and feel love… together…”. His fingers clumsily punched in the last few digits of her number. It rang… once, twice, three times… ‘She has to answer… she has to…’ he thought frantically ’I can’t live without her… I can‘t live with this pain tonight…’. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;   He would listen to it ring for hours that night, but she would never pick up. He would cry and remain in agonizing pain throughout the night. She wasn’t there. No one was there. He was in pain, unloved and alone. He could feel now, but it was more feeling than he ever knew how to handle. And every time her phone rang without an answer, it sent awful ripping sensations through out his heart and chest. Had he the energy he would have ripped his own heart out with his bear hands, just to end it all. Any physical pain or death must be better than this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To him, the phone seemed to ring endlessly that night. To him, the sorrow was endless as well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7112252601792021324-4325940212914431058?l=aseaofshells.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/feeds/4325940212914431058/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/2009/02/to-feel.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7112252601792021324/posts/default/4325940212914431058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7112252601792021324/posts/default/4325940212914431058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/2009/02/to-feel.html' title='To Feel'/><author><name>WitheredRose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00917379711437944308</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QOeR4PnyxwM/Tt8GlDCM7UI/AAAAAAAAADI/RV6SRJPiECw/s220/image201110140001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7112252601792021324.post-247508650807137347</id><published>2009-01-28T20:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-28T20:47:05.384-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ghosts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Depression'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Short Stories'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Haunting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Part 2'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='False Comfort'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='When Night Time Evades'/><title type='text'>When Night Time Evades</title><content type='html'>Months passed by. A few or too many, she couldn't tell. She remained in the same state, so it didn't really seem to matter. Well not really the same, nothing was the same anymore. She was haunted now. What could she do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This falsified comfort&lt;br /&gt;Like an inner self&lt;br /&gt;Or soul&lt;br /&gt;With you&lt;br /&gt;Always with you&lt;br /&gt;Haunting your waking moments&lt;br /&gt;And stalking your dreams&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That ghost, again, ever since the funeral. Every waking moment. It held her close, with arms that couldn't touch, so a touch she couldn't feel. It went through her. The ghost would sit with her, comfort her as she spent endless hours crying, telling her he still loved her and that everything would be okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well then why did you leave?"&lt;br /&gt;"Don't you love me anymore?"&lt;br /&gt;'Of coarse I do'&lt;br /&gt;'I never left you'&lt;br /&gt;"Of coarse you did! You killed yourself!"&lt;br /&gt;"You went away..."&lt;br /&gt;'No, he killed me...'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She knew it was true. That the ghost had done nothing wrong. He loved her, as he always had. So she couldn't be angry with him. After all, it was her husband who killed himself, and not the ghost. The ghost continued his sad attempts to comfort her. How close she was to him. She could almost feel the ghosts touch. It was all in her heart though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And was almost like&lt;br /&gt;He was still&lt;br /&gt;There with&lt;br /&gt;Her&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She could still remember the feeling when it was like this. It filled the cavity that was her heart, made it ache less, as if filling it with life. It still hurt, because she saw through the ghosts comfort, and knew that it could never replace him actually being alive. The ghost was as sad and lonely as she was...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Drifting, it's not real&lt;br /&gt;For he feels her ache&lt;br /&gt;And forms complete sympathy&lt;br /&gt;For he feels&lt;br /&gt;What she feels&lt;br /&gt;He too is&lt;br /&gt;The lonely one&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will you cry for me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He stared at her miserable as ever. They existed on two separate planes, and so they could never be together. All the while they watched his murderer, live and look like him, but be a complete stranger. They would both beg (even though he couldn't see or hear the ghost) him to make it right. To make it better. To let the ghost back in. But he would claim there was nothing he could do to change what had happened, and that he didn't even regret what he had done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After awhile, she just couldn't take it. She told the ghost to leave. His presence did comfort her, but it also reminded her of everything she had lost. It was torture. He looked at her, a melancholy stare, and told her 'If you ever need me again, call my name'. Then he disappeared. She cried all night long, till pure exhaustion took her into sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The days ahead were grey and empty. Sounds came to her vaguely and without meaning. After only a day she found herself weeping his name, and saw him appear beside her, his iridescent arms wrapped around her as best they could. "I can't love a ghost forever" she whispered "And I doubt he'll ever try to revive you...". The ghost sighed 'I know... I know... but I love you so much. I wish he could  understand that. I don't even know why he did it in the first place...". She could see the pattern forming. This is how it would be, forever. Whispers of love, echos of comfort, and nights that drown with tears...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will we let it go?&lt;br /&gt;It's all we've got now&lt;br /&gt;The feelings that used to be whole&lt;br /&gt;Now are hollow in their presence&lt;br /&gt;They cannot be let go&lt;br /&gt;For the fear of losing what little survived&lt;br /&gt;And all that we know&lt;br /&gt;It will be gone&lt;br /&gt;As ghosts are pale like old photos&lt;br /&gt;And rot with time&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/2009/01/still-in-mourning.html"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Or will you cry with me?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7112252601792021324-247508650807137347?l=aseaofshells.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/feeds/247508650807137347/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/2009/01/when-night-time-evades.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7112252601792021324/posts/default/247508650807137347'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7112252601792021324/posts/default/247508650807137347'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/2009/01/when-night-time-evades.html' title='When Night Time Evades'/><author><name>WitheredRose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00917379711437944308</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QOeR4PnyxwM/Tt8GlDCM7UI/AAAAAAAAADI/RV6SRJPiECw/s220/image201110140001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7112252601792021324.post-5300914118594717201</id><published>2009-01-22T20:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-22T20:50:49.157-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sadness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ghosts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Still In The Mourning'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Short Story'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Moving On'/><title type='text'>Still In The Mourning</title><content type='html'>Stood still all the same&lt;br /&gt;With tears that fall like rain&lt;br /&gt;Undertaken in the arms of sorrow she looked toward the grave. It was a cool grey, nothing could rot it through for centuries, yet she was sure she could tear it open bear handed, to reach her love, at any given point, if needed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stop&lt;br /&gt;Was all that time could do for her&lt;br /&gt;She just wanted to stop it. Weeks ago, months ago. The further back the better. "You'll be fine", "Your so young"; not words of comfort but seemingly taunts, reminding her of how quickly she had come to her own ruin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stupid wretched thing&lt;br /&gt;All the more despicable with every growing second&lt;br /&gt;Love was the last thing she ever wanted to be destroyed by. But he was dead and so what can this emotion do but destroy her? It builds and then it tears, for even the closest lovers are eventually separated  by time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now what could be done?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   It seemed like it all happened so fast. Loneliness, love, laughter, murder, agony... in this order. She had no idea what to do or how to heal. She had never had to heal before, or at least, not like this. She could feel the ache of her&lt;br /&gt;chest, the racing of her pulse, she just wanted to scream. For all the intimacy, for all the tragedy, for everything she felt, to scream and release the pain like the excorsisim of a demon, and be done with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"He&lt;br /&gt;Was&lt;br /&gt;Murdered&lt;br /&gt;He&lt;br /&gt;Is&lt;br /&gt;Gone&lt;br /&gt;Never&lt;br /&gt;Coming&lt;br /&gt;Home..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   She repeated this in her mind a thousand and one times. It bruised her every time, the truth made her physically flinch. Death's gift. It takes you to another world. Makes everything unreal. Makes time not stop, but simply run together and cease to mean anything at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'How can he be here?&lt;br /&gt;Dose he really have the nerve&lt;br /&gt;Wait... why wouldn't he be in jail?&lt;br /&gt;He should be... he's a murderer...&lt;br /&gt;He could kill others...'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   Her loves murderer stood beside her, calmly as if he were at the funeral of his own friend. He had tears of his own in his eyes. He looked like he was sorry to see his victim go. She wanted to scream every obscenity she knew at him, beat him, taunt him, ridicule him, just so he could feel her pain for just one moment. But she didn't because he looked so familliar, and she really couldn't place from where or when.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   She glanced toward the grave, to see her love's ghost floating next to it. Her jaw dropped and she began to feel faint. Tears flooded her eyes again. The murderer helped her keep her balance. "But...", was all she ever got to say. She glanced again at the murderer, then at her love's ghost. She understood everything completely now. They were the same person. Her love was her love's murderer. He had committed suicide. She whispered "Why?"... but the dead of coarse, cannot answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No longer alive&lt;br /&gt;The memory haunts&lt;br /&gt;Not really dead&lt;br /&gt;Reality taunts&lt;br /&gt;And love plays it's tricks&lt;br /&gt;And leaves us only with what we remember&lt;br /&gt;Or choose not to forget&lt;br /&gt;In everything we are this&lt;br /&gt;Alive&lt;br /&gt;Remembering&lt;br /&gt;Trying not to forget&lt;br /&gt;That the stars were so much brighter&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7112252601792021324-5300914118594717201?l=aseaofshells.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/feeds/5300914118594717201/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/2009/01/still-in-mourning.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7112252601792021324/posts/default/5300914118594717201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7112252601792021324/posts/default/5300914118594717201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/2009/01/still-in-mourning.html' title='Still In The Mourning'/><author><name>WitheredRose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00917379711437944308</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QOeR4PnyxwM/Tt8GlDCM7UI/AAAAAAAAADI/RV6SRJPiECw/s220/image201110140001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7112252601792021324.post-1054650448652075712</id><published>2009-01-17T23:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-18T00:08:40.117-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Forums'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='New Album'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thirty Seconds To Mars'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='AFI'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Despair Faction'/><title type='text'>The Despair Faction Pt. 1</title><content type='html'>Although it may seem weird to write a full blog about the Despair Faction, I felt I needed to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight I visited the Thirty Seconds To Mars (one of my all time favorite bands) forum for only the second time, and I was looking through posts and rules, but I wasn't able to stay for very long. The rules were amazingly strict sounding and unwelcoming. I was seriously repelled. Although the posters were nice enough, I felt like I was reading a book, starting with the last chapter when I read through some of the topics. I couldn't get into it at all. It just seemed like a group of online friends talking, it didn't really seem like anything more (although avid posters of this forum may tell me differently, and I respect that, this was just my first impression).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Despair Faction boards are the complete opposite. I never felt our of place, or alone there (I love how people often greet new members with "Welcome to the family"). Most people on the boards are wonderfully patient and will gladly help you if you have any problems. They don't put up with crap of coarse, and will tell you when your wrong... but it feels like a family. Even though I'm still not super close to any of them, I feel very at home. I feel connected to them. They are all very intelligent people, but usually don't show off or try to act like they are better than they really are. I have gotten into a few arguments, but nothing major or unforgivable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've always felt closer to AFI as a band. They do so much for their fans, and it's extremely apparent that they want to be as close to their fans as possible. After all, we are a faction, a family, and we are in this together. They seem to very much realize this. The BEGINTRANSMISSION contest is just one more way of them showing they care and want to meet their fans.  Plus, their lyrics are just so personal, there isn't a single AFI song that I can't relate to. Their music makes you feel like your not alone, that someone has been through exactly what you've been through, and that it is possible to come out of the other side.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to become a DF member very soon, and the next time I get my hands on thirty dollars it will be the first thing I do. Just so I become an official member of this family, for life. It's an exceptionally small price to pay really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To The Despair Faction: I love you all and I will hopefully be joining officially very soon!&lt;br /&gt;To AFI: You have no idea how much you mean to me, I'm looking forward to the new album!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Part two of this blog coming soon. I will also do an in depth review of the new AFI album when it comes out, so look for it!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7112252601792021324-1054650448652075712?l=aseaofshells.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/feeds/1054650448652075712/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/2009/01/despair-faction-pt-1.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7112252601792021324/posts/default/1054650448652075712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7112252601792021324/posts/default/1054650448652075712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/2009/01/despair-faction-pt-1.html' title='The Despair Faction Pt. 1'/><author><name>WitheredRose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00917379711437944308</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QOeR4PnyxwM/Tt8GlDCM7UI/AAAAAAAAADI/RV6SRJPiECw/s220/image201110140001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7112252601792021324.post-1240369576697989649</id><published>2009-01-08T18:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-08T18:36:15.575-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dredge'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hello'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Seashell In A Sea Of Shells'/><title type='text'>Well, here it is...</title><content type='html'>My blog. Hopefully I'll be much better about keeping this one up, than my last one. Which I abandoned one month after I got it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't take all of the credit for the title of this blog, it's based off a lyric from a Dredge song.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll have more to say next time, especially if I get some viewers!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ Meghan&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7112252601792021324-1240369576697989649?l=aseaofshells.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/feeds/1240369576697989649/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/2009/01/well-here-it-is.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7112252601792021324/posts/default/1240369576697989649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7112252601792021324/posts/default/1240369576697989649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aseaofshells.blogspot.com/2009/01/well-here-it-is.html' title='Well, here it is...'/><author><name>WitheredRose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00917379711437944308</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QOeR4PnyxwM/Tt8GlDCM7UI/AAAAAAAAADI/RV6SRJPiECw/s220/image201110140001.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
