hannahdavies666

I will save the world <3

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Bottled

It was her, The one With the swinging whips of dirty blonde across her cheeks. With that cocktail-holding, pill-rattling S t a r e That lashed like glow sticks across the pub. Spring, summer's premature sister, Had spiked the rainy window frames With a drugged electricity. intoxicated, I could see it all her wide, cat like eyes. Leans on the bar, With her hemlines hitched up around her waist On the balmy, slick barstool. I pushed through the queues at the bar, Sliding onto the stool beside her. A few words Stitched up the air between us; I could feel her breath, warm and zingy On my flushed cheeks. Leaned on her shoulder

All

155 deviations

Literature

Bottled

Featured

154 deviations

Literature

Bottled

Recent poetry

38 deviations

Literature

Smile

Picking at corners, Then spreading so delicately Into glowing eyes.

100 Theme Challenge

3 deviations

Literature

Headphones and Dressing Gowns

Pink like a coiled snake, Headphones embrace dressing-gowns Their love is always.

Haikus

19 deviations

Literature

The Golden Days

He would wake, when the sun crept through the soft curtains, And rise, a youthful smile spread across his innocent face. In the warm kitchen, the heart of the home, A chipped china plate would be piled high With crackling eggs and bacon. An ordinary meal, yet he felt it fit for a king. As a whisper of the cool breeze Danced down the sunbeams through the open window. He would leap through the fields Of delicate flowers and dewy grass. He would climb the hay And lie among the scratchy gold. The new calves, fresh into the world, Would turn to his gentle whistle. The cool silver streams would run softly, As pebbles sang their summe

Poetry - old

21 deviations

Literature

A difficult day

I was set the task of dressing her. She was a difficult girl, with eyes that could glitter like fireworks in hysterics. Her mother insisted that she stayed in the nurse's quarters, so that the gentlewomen that came to tea did not witness her outbursts; though sometimes they heard the screaming. But today, one of her mother's lady friends had asked to see her daughter, and I was to attempt to tame her behavior. When I entered her room, the only part of her visible beneath her quilt was her feet. I had been at her birth; her feet were pearly white as they slipped out prematurely from her indifferent mother. But now those tiny white feet were

Short Prose

15 deviations

Longer Prose

11 deviations

Misc. Literature

8 deviations

Pictures .

9 deviations

Literature

Dolphins and Doorknobs

Slippy skin, so delightfully slimy but never licked. Shame, for a tongue could ripen aeons. I'll stitch it through and through the blubber that bubbles under the skin. Sewing together with turntable rust; dorsal finned shame drips through my fingers. Who told me dolphins didn't have teeth? Because there were lines and lines in that sea salt smile. I pinned her carefully to my scrapbook doorknob; every time I turn it, my soul is pricked with blowhole lust...

Scraps

2 deviations

Bottled by hannahdavies666, literature

Literature

Bottled

Broken Bones by hannahdavies666, literature

Literature

Broken Bones

Bleached blue vein of pulsing sky stared over a shining pool of melted glass; Trees raised their naked branches into the whimpering, flinching flesh of clouds. Like Russian dolls, they stood in line: Him, first, with his ladder-like smile high above the ground; And her, last, with her dandilion-clock hair and her chubby new legs. His feet, with wiry hairs sprouting like spiders over his skin, broke the glass into flying, dripping strands. But her so malleable bones plummeted through the bubbles and crumpled beneath her buttocks, against the tiles.

Sometimes by hannahdavies666, literature

The Headlights by hannahdavies666, literature

Literature

The Headlights

We walked through the gritty tarmac And the rain And we bumped into each other softly, Like apathetic butterflies. Drunk on raindrops, Hair slithering in rat's tails about our skin, A thin braid dripping and swinging across My face. The ground kissed our muddy boots, Well I was wearing boots, she Her ballet pumps never meant for walking in the rain. You know that feeling Of walking on rain-drenched pavement? Well that's what it felt like As we stood in the middle of the road. She tasted Of raindrops and damp cigarettes; Stood like a young petal to the horizontal rain And the Vaseline on her lips Smeared on my cheeks. Ele

Through a belly button by hannahdavies666, literature

Literature

Through a belly button

It was a cold November day when the sun peeked like a child through her belly button; In the winter air, it was like a tiny silver ghost nestled among the goosepimpled skin. Her tummy was creased like a laughing smile, Like a peach, fine hair stroked her skin. I looked inside and saw blades of grass holding hands, stark shadows bright against a Punch and Judy show; babies feeding flowers with dewdrops and snow and a woman in a blue dress hanging up washing on the sky...

Supernova by hannahdavies666, literature

Sinking into me by hannahdavies666, literature

Many battles for an old dog by hannahdavies666, literature

Literature

Many battles for an old dog

He walks with an old dog limp, like an old hero of war [but this man's battles were never fought beyond his forehead.] You want to see his sunken eyes, you say; I don't know why, you'll find no sonnets to them now. But if you must, then find them; if you can prise his pepper freckled fingers from his grey crepey skin. Can you not see the ghosts in his face? The pressed-against-glass look that begs for you to shatter his bones? No, no. Shhh, don't call for help. He's had all the help he can get, Haven't you, my teeth-chattering dear? Oh no. He's had all the help he can get.

Sociopath by hannahdavies666, literature

Literature

Sociopath

If her dress was like a second skin, then it had been shed, like a snake's, and held by fibrous ribbons to her clothes-hanger frame. If she was chaste as an earlobe, why then she sang like a fracture; that hairline fault that crackled through her cellophane silhouette. I do not deny her sharp, cat like smile, but in her sunken eyes is a spiced sauce and it sticks in my throat like a secret. Oh, My bittersweet, sweet, sweetiepie, you are too accustomed to captivity.

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