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It was 5am, and the sun was only beginning to hit the windows as she said to me, I think I wrote a poem about you.

And I said, how does it go?

It goes like this, she said, and it was beautiful.

It was shooting stars, pulled wishbones and a thousand things unfulfilled, all blown birthday candles and dandelion clocks; the superstitions we embrace so that sometimes, for a few seconds, we're allowed to have any dream we want despite it all.

At the beginning it was the regret for things, said and unsaid, breaking into sharp pieces in our palms so we could never hold them; then it was a confession, and then a heartbreaking demand, only to know whether it could ever begin or be stopped; and the final line led me up into her eyes.

They were like the sea looks in all the magazines, the colour you buy expensive tickets to swim in for two weeks: clearwater oceans, the kind of world we know less about the bottom of than we do about the surface of our moon. She was too true and clear a sea, unrippled waters reflecting this kid who couldn't do wrong, and she thought it was me.

I thought to myself then, she must be blind. I thought, yes. I thought, let her be mine. But instead I said, It's amazing how sometimes I don't believe in love until I see the words it can make; or perhaps instead I just said Oh, and my memory has been brightened by time.

Then I kissed her there on the carpet while I forgot the words coming next, the dandelion seeds blowing by on winds outside, and us wrapping our fingers round bones; maybe I said them silently instead, against her lips; or maybe that was all there was to say.

When we came away from each other, there was only a small space between us and we left it there; as if it was some unspoken agreement that now we had started something too fragile to let slip away by drawing fully apart.

The two of us together, we were sweeping sensations. We were drawing guns and shooting stars dead-centre, obliterating constellations one by one - we were virgo, we were libra, we were the new age of space - whispering to one another Don't forget it.

Don't forget it, Charlie.

Don't forget it, Alice.

But I had to tell her in the end of that moment, even centimetres away from those those eyes like tidal waves rising and breaking over all my boundaries, It's too much about the better things.

She said, Huh? and feeling the ghost of it sweep against my lips made me realize how far-gone I was already.

I'm not worth words like that, I said. I make too many mistakes, I break too many plates, I can't sing worth a damn.

I didn't say you could, she answered.

I said, But it was stars and moons.

Everybody's worth a moon or two, she said, and believed it. I got mad then, mad inside, mostly because I was confused but also because I was scared of the vows I might make to her; they were too bright, too promising, and I thought I could be blinded by them.

I can't, I said, and a speech stumbled out after; When I have love, it only makes me unhappy in the end. I never want for anything else. All I want is to talk like a story, because it feels so perfect it must be written, and yet everyone else is too busy being like movies - and so maybe it's too much to ask, and I have to tell you that. Maybe my world is boring, with all plain paper and no glossy magazine pages, but I can't help but live there so you need to know I do.

Right now is a love-story, she said. Are you going to waste it by skipping to the end? It's too soon yet, and there are so many words in between.

Words can hurt, I remember saying, and I almost laughed even then at the childish sound of them, and went on; It's too hard to let someone love me when I don't even like myself.

Everybody talks about having to learn how to love yourself before you can be happy, but isn't it okay just to be loved? I think, she said, I could be happy with depending on you, if you depended on me.

Just like that, I was falling down on the carpet and it's like we were caught in paper, pressed up against each other while our fingers stroked spines with absent minds, ending worlds and starting futures between our eyes and skin - all at once it was a fairy-tale ending and then it was the part after a book says The End, where you take a moment to yourself to think of how the words might have went on. Maybe it wasn't worth anything the next week, the next year, or ten years after, but I'm telling you this:

It was after 5am, and the sun was high above the windows as I said to her, I think I will write about you.

And Charlie said, how will it go?

It goes like this, I said, and it was beautiful.
my cyan saltwater.


submit a deviation, link a deviation!
summersometimes i used to think of what it would be like
to be held by you
or touched
by you

the day was getting tired and i was too
my fingers were stiff and turning purple
yours were warm and pink and i thought
itd be nice to warm up

with our hands intertwined
passive romantic gestures
wherein petty jealousy doesn't interfere
we could link together

i remember lying in quiet cold with you
how soft you were
how we all breathed together
it was soothing and perfect

i think i could've done more
made something but then
couldn't we all
make something out of assumed nothing

be creators of love

go read this by *dirked, it's lovely.


& any other kind readers, please let me know your thoughts. i'm looking for general feedback and crit, particularly on my style and structure.


ask for critique, give a critique!
Passivitymy teeth are numb from trying
          to find words to describe you
          our breath is smoke &
          our hands are death.     
1/2 a pack a day,
          we're catching up to our grandparents--
          but we have our own wars &
          we discuss them casually over---
steam from our bodies, our pore
today is only a five-letter-wordi refuse to be afraid to breathe anymore.

i'll take your scent in and never breathe it out, but everyone is so gullible; they think i dream when i'm really just thinking of ways to make you real. they believe me when i say that God's sense of humor was always twisted and dark.
because they're people; they'll believe anything.

i prattle on and on with words that don't need to be said, that hardly ever make sense.
but you read on. because you know somewhere between the lines i've hidden your name for the seraphs to see.

it won't take much to stop draining me.
the minute you stop, so will i. peace misses you too. give back my breaths and i
And your love is some dust in an old man's coughyou lull me into your weakness
i get degraded

all the red leaves in the world
alongside half frozen trees
look on at the autumn sun

behold the tempest
write me into pink petals
& i am unscented
glued to ground at the station

(and what calm
could have been mine

here's something i gave feedback on: [ link ]
there's a whole folder of things that you can help improve with your comments, but i thumbed a few just because.

pay it forward. :heart:
Add a Comment:
UnspecifiedUnknown Featured By Owner Dec 19, 2012   Writer
falling in love with your words has never struck me so
tethered & falling
DamagedHomewrecker Featured By Owner Dec 13, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
this is just so lovely and soft.
0hgravity Featured By Owner Nov 30, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
This has a wonderful flow and truly beautiful lines throughout. The first line has a great draw.

The only thing I'd suggest is using quotation marks because it tends to get a little muddled; I got a bit lost at times.

Other than that, a very nice read.
whatpumpkins Featured By Owner Dec 1, 2012   Writer
thank you :heart:

i'll take that into consideration, and i really appreciate that you pointed it out. i don't feel that quotation marks really suits the way i want the story to be, but i'll try my best to make it clearer what is speech, and what isn't! thanks again :rose:
0hgravity Featured By Owner Dec 1, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
welcome :)

I understand.
good luck with any revisions you make!
CarolyntheMouse Featured By Owner Nov 28, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
I enjoyed this. Very poetic!
whatpumpkins Featured By Owner Nov 29, 2012   Writer
thankyou! :heart:
BananaGoddess Featured By Owner Nov 27, 2012
Oh my goodness.
This is...unfathomably beautiful. The flow of supposed conversation, the vague nature of the romance, the metaphors and realistic ideals blended in together...
Honestly, this is the one of the most beautiful pieces I've read here on Deviantart. Such an excellent way to express a part of yourself :)
whatpumpkins Featured By Owner Nov 28, 2012   Writer
oh, wow, this was such a lovely comment to read! there's no way it is that great, but i really appreciate that you liked it so much and responded; it means a lot to me. :heart:
Laur-icula Featured By Owner Nov 27, 2012
I'm speechless and extremely jealous of your talent.
whatpumpkins Featured By Owner Nov 27, 2012   Writer
i blame all the people who keep inspiring me to stay up til 5 in the morning writing these things. it's only when i get comments like these that it feels worthwhile to go and do it all over again, so thank you :heart:
Laur-icula Featured By Owner Nov 27, 2012
You're welcome dear. <3
Divasola Featured By Owner Nov 27, 2012  Student General Artist
You are AMAZING!!!!
whatpumpkins Featured By Owner Nov 27, 2012   Writer
not at all. thank you for reading :heart:
Divasola Featured By Owner Nov 28, 2012  Student General Artist
:) But you really are! I wish I could write like you ~
whatpumpkins Featured By Owner Nov 28, 2012   Writer
you don't need to write like anybody, your writing is lovely all on its own. i really liked beloved muse! i could tell you though, that when i write a story, i write about it the way memories feel instead of the way memories happened. i can't explain it any more than that, although it may sound a little ridiculous... keep writing! :heart:
Divasola Featured By Owner Nov 29, 2012  Student General Artist
Haha, it sounds completely normal to me. :P I noticed throughout your stories, they are based on reminisce: personal memories and experience and feelings. It's really fascinating. ^^ I'm just afraid sometimes my writing will suck. XD
whatpumpkins Featured By Owner Nov 30, 2012   Writer
i'm trying to explore it more as i develop the style, but it's a difficult one; i think it's the way i want to write my novel though, so hopefully it will one day be a successful one (if i am very, very lucky). oh, i get that every time i press the 'submit' button! most of the time i still am not too sure if my hobby is worth the amount of dedication i give to it, but even with a lack of response i still have fun writing and that's worth plenty! :dummy:

something i'm trying to encourage at the moment is the 'pay it forward' concept. it's aimed at raising more awareness to give valuable feedback (so people like us know whether we suck or not @_@ - well, not really, it's more to offer constructive comments so everyone can improve regardless of their rating on the suckyness scale) and if you're interested, there's more information about it on my profile. you don't have to read it though, it's a wee bit bulky D:
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Submitted on
November 27, 2012
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