Shadow of the Butterfly

*claps* Very very well done!!! I loved it.

Very well done. I have been there before. It hurts more when you realize that the other person has gone on with their lives, left you behind and all your plans. Take care, ~~ :butterfly: ~~

**After reading other applications, mine seems somewhat lacking in character. If the first one is acceptable, then disregard this one...** It was late in the afternoon, the light waning towards twilight. A slight breeze found its way through a window that was slightly ajar, causing several pieces of paper on the large Registrar's desk to alight elsewhere. Unnoticed and unannounced, a monarch butterfly entered the room, its wings flashing in molted oranges and blacks. Twisting in the wind, it flew over to where the benches ended, lighting on the nose of one prospective applicant. He blinked in weary surprise, going cross-eyed while trying to blow the butterfly off his nose. He looked quite rediculous. He could almost hear the creature snicker to itself as it ascended, flitting away, heading towards the privies. A small woman appeared in the archway of the hall, her russet locks tinged with gold tips catching the fading sunlight. Her figure was slim and long, her skin dark as ebony. Dark reddish-orange robes clung to her as she moved quietly to sit alone at a desk in the corner of the room. From within a fold of her robe, she produced a bit of parchment and a long, cobalt blue quill. With a quick glance around, she set to work. Her small, spidery handwritting soon covered the parchment. Hazy summer days aglow Lead to warm summer nights Breezes sluggish and slow Stirring the curtains of bedchambers barren Where did all the lovers go? Under laughing weeping willows Through streams and lakes they row Their course ever unwinding Reaping what they sow Escaping responsibility Enchanted for a night They gladly give up emptiness For what they know is right Leaping over -- The woman stopped, glowering at her empty ink well. "This shall have to do, I suppose.." she mumured quietly to herself. She carefully wiped the tip of the quill off on a piece of soft cloth before tucking it away again. On her way to the large, dissheveled desk, she tossed her empty ink vial into a surprisngly empty waste basket. She looked at all the piles and sighed quietly to herself. With a good luck kiss upon the parchment, she set it down and, with a slight popping sound, disappeared.

*chuckles queitly* I liked this muchly. Well done, luv. ~~ ~~

Hi. I didn't quite read your poem, but glanced at it and found that your name and my brother's are... IDENTICAL!! Buahaha... sorry, off to read your poem now *bounces out the room*

Nice verbage!! Very well done indeed.

To clear up any confusion.. Matthew is a dear friend of mine... I took an online quiz that stated him as my twin soul. In that same quiz it said that my boyfriend is "the one you love deeply." See, so I'm in a bit of a quandery... feel tugged in two different directions. Which isn't fair to anyone involved.

Looking left, looking right Down roads with no end in sight I struggle to see the reason Of struggling on Life throws me for a loop And I land on my knees Looking up to God's eyes My prayer is pleading Decisions and heart ache Lonliness and Numbness Greet me in amiable silence Looking left, looking right I pray to find a companion on my travels I struggle to see the reason Of walking alone in this vast emptiness Surely Life is meant for more than merely living

Don't reach for the fireflies Don't reach for the fireflies Their lights are deceiving Flashing Tripping Weaving Don't reach for the fireflies Look towards the harvest moon Full and orange in the velvety blackness Haunting in its serene majesty O, how to touch the moon To gather up the folds of the night and tuck it away in my pocket The fireflies! The fireflies! Gather up the bits of moon they are Capture them in a net of silken spider webs Sail up to the moon, touching the velvet of night I trace my fingers in circles through the fog My hands come away with moon glitter I ascend further to alight upon the object of my affection And look down to see the jewel of the earth "Ah, how beautiful!" O, how to touch the world? To gather it up in my pocket and float happily through space O Earth, O Moon, you are mine

Porcelain ballerina, spinning in her music box Each pink ribbon molded into place, small smile fixed Dancing endlessly before a tiny mirror She looks beyond her reflection, into a little girl's room Her mistress is young as yet, ponies and lace Make-believe and princesses fill her mind Often imitating the dancer in her music box The little girl plays with her daily Porcelain ballerina, poised to spin Each pink ribbon molded into place, small smile fixed Coated in the dust of time She looks beyond her reflection, into a young woman's room Her mistress grows older, but is not yet grown Dark makeup, crying in the night Lace, yes, but black and ragged The young woman has forgotten her music box More content to dwell in the heavy beat of darker music Porcelain ballerina, boxed away and silent Each pink ribbon, molded into place, small smile fixed Waits in darkness through the passing years Porcelain ballerina, spinning in her music box Each pink ribbon fadded, but in place Dancing once more before a tiny mirror She looks beyond her reflection, into a little girl's room As her mistress tenderly strokes The golden coils of her child's hair Lace and ponies, this she awaits As the cycle continues once more

My heart is my own My own and no other's Strong is my wall, guarding the way For some, tis like steel Impenetrable by neither sight nor sound But for the rare people who look To see without eyes To hear without ears Those walls are crystal thin Strong, yes, but clear The way is shown Inside the depths of my soul Coursing through darkness Intermingled with light Till you reach the center Where sit I in my sheltered cocoon Offering my heart up freely

*gasps* Very very well done! Truly impressed am I, good friend.

Maybe life brought seperate lives Apart but now together Tentative tension betwixt two friends Twined in uncertain circumstances Hearts are greedy, fickle and consuming Empathy makes reading eachother interesting What shall happen is still unknown Testing waters of depths disguised White flowers upon cool surfaces Iinstincts muffled, drowned Nearly supressing the urges Souls united but kept apart Objects in the way quite clear Ultimately leading down paths clouded over Like fog in the morning misty forests Searching for answers under our nose

Wow... breathtaking... bravo and well done! Give us more. *claps enthusiastically*

Green glass Cold, wet, tangy Dark brewed liquid Her comfort, companion The quiet friend that always listened Never judged nor condemned It washed away her fears and regrets Until all that was left was a numb drunk She wasn't happy, couldn't have been She exchanged her soul for that liquid It began to slowly eat away at her insides Much like the worms and bugs are now Six feet under She can't reach the bottle anylonger

*blinks slowly* Magnificantly well done! I truly appreciate your talent. Keep them coming!! ~~ ~~

A girl alone on a concrete bench Pale blonde roots showing Before her cascade of dull raven waves Gaunt and pale, lifeless Her eyes glitter darkly Rarely blinking in an attempt at nonchalance Morbid artistry upon her skin Many rings adorn her ears: Society's lost childe "Lonliness in the human condition," She murmurs to herself Her voice holds no hope Abandoned by her mother No father to feel bereft of Moved from one place to another Trust is foreign to her eyes Fierce pride and angry independence She has grown up in the shadows Unable to see the light Behind the wall she has created My email address is livelybrilea@hotmail.com. This poem was inspired by the movie "White Oleander." Thank you for your time.

Through vacant eyes she stares at me No hope to speak of present Pale skin stretches over delicate bone Little girl lost in the system From house to house They place her Not one of them a home Not one group of people there Dare she call a family Crumpled heart drawn in with crayon Dark browns and ugly yellows Little girl lost Knows the game The people she lives with Will soon grow tired of her And call Them to retrieve her She clutches her small, sad suitcase Against her one-last-breath-of- Maybe-they'll-change-their-minds constrained chest Through vacant eyes she stares ahead No hope to speak of present Little girl lost stumbles forth once more In her ever pressing need of acceptence Little girl lost Little girl lost Little girl dead Little girl died long ago Little girl died and lived through vacant eyes Little girl without hope

Very sad indeed. Reminds me of a poem I wrote once... called Little Girl Lost... Perhaps I shall post it. Cheers

Fingers steady grasp feathered quill Though the cold leaves them numb With deft accuracy the author retrieves more ink from the pot All around him chaos reigns, torrents of confusion abound To his left, the ground is rent with scars Ripped apart by the trampling of many frightened feet And still he writes To his right, a cliff drops off sharply, plunging to the depths of the sea There are cries of the lost and wandering That echo through the fog that drifts And still he writes, slow and steady Peace had long since left his lands The parchment on which he wrote was his last A light approaches in the distance Un-noticed by our author until just as it arrives The blinking beacon in the night was held up and away Leaving the bearer's face in cloaking darkness "It is Time, Old One." a voice murmured softly within the depths of the darkness The man looks steadily towards where he can only assume the eyes are "One last sentence, and it is Time." he replied, dipping his quill once more With the patient sigh of a being where time was all and nothing, the silence proved acquiscence The Old One scritch-scratched the last word and looked up He stood and faced The Darkness "It is Time." Our author smiled steadily as the milky hand snaked out of the inky depths of the cloak With his last breath he murmured "Sweet Jesus" And fell, the wind rocking the lamp at the end of the scythe As Death moved on

Bodies moving in the darkness Music pulsating, alive Crashing over the faceless Movements controlled by the force of the beat Sweat, perfume, smoke and incense fill the room Breathing in and breathing out is its own statement Fluid bodies move in time to one another Girl sitting by herself, watching Glitter dusted over her body Dark, shadowy makeup makes her blend in Trancelike, she moves to the center of the dance floor Unlike the rest of the gyrating bodies, she is still She looks up at the flashing lights and her eyes fill Tears spill over her lashes in silent grief No one notices as she continues to weep The tears wash away her makeup Her face begins to shine As her mask is shed She blinks and looks around Silence has filled the room All eyes are on her, for she is different A slow smile spreads over her face, touching her eyes She begins a slow dance of her own Moving to the beat of her heart, and the hearts of those around her She tilts her head back and raises her arms The glitter on her body dances as she moves Different

Very well done. Quite descriptive, to say the least. One thing, however, that you might want to change: "While chucking at your moans of pain"... Should it be "chuckling" instead of "chucking"? I may be incorrect in my assesment...one never knows. Care, Shadow of the Butterfly

Soaking up the feelings Like a sponge to a puddle of blood I sit here staring through glassy eyed emptiness Wondering what I'll find under the red The red keeps coming, dripping from my eyes Crimson streaks stain my cheeks As another hope is crushed... squeezed... taken Methodically, mechanically, mercilessly I clean up my life's blood Wringing it into the Pail of Despair Where it sits, settles and seeps Turning black, then the light grey of ash Burnt by the tiny flame of a taunting daydream Rose petals white stir across the rouged floor boards Stripped from a thornless bouquet Tied up with the locks of a unicorn Unscathed, unstained, they float Staring through glassy eyes of red despair I quietly lay down and die Bemused contentment upon the pale shade of my smile

Liquid flames of inverted colour Dark green with highlights of black Shadows cast in wild obsoletes Angels, discarded, disfigured, defiled Line long winding paths They leer in despondant mirth At the soul lost to Love A bitter gale howls mercilessly Carrying with it the message of hope out of reach Truly, Hell is that of deprived Love Taunting, teasing, tantalizing Just...out...of...reach