bones

The organism - there was no other thing she could think to call it - churned and moved as it propelled itself across the ground, the living bodies of animals briefly appearing before being submerged in a sea of bugs as others rose to the surface. And then there were the bones. At first she didn't quite understand what she was seeing. For a moment she believed that they were pieces of wood - limbs of trees picked up by the undulating mass - but when she saw the skull, its jaw hanging open in a silent scream, she understood the horror of what it was. the remains of victims were a part of its body, flowing within the multitude that made up its mass.

I thought of the new stone, of my new wife, and of the newly buried white bones beneath us, and I felt that fate had made sport of us all.

And there is my payment the rubies in your cheeks. Are you properly scandalized by your wicked behavior? If you were Catholic, you'd singe the ears of the priest you confessed to. Do you remember making me swear to repeat all those naughty actions agian, no matter what you said this morning?" Now that he brought it up, I did recall saying that. Great Betrayed by my own immorality. "God, Bones...some of that was depraved." "I'll take that as a compliment." He closed the distance between us."I love you. Don't be ashamed of anything we did, even if your prudery is on life support.

He also deeply distrusts vampires, as you had guessed yourself,_ Bones added. __side from that, all I heard was enough repetitions of __ow many chucks could a woodchuck chuck_ to make me want to stake myself.

I doubt you__e ever been forced to nonstop bang a woman hyped up on the undead voodoo version of Spanish fly, have you?__is chuckle was soft. __an__ say that I have, Kitten.___eah, well, consider me an original.__his time, when his lips brushed across my skin, it lasted more than a moment.__ always have.

Bones didn__ share any of my qualms about suddenly holding an arm that wasn__ attached to a body anymore. He just grabbed the ghoul by his other arm and began thumping him over the head with the loose limb. I__ heard Bones threaten to beat someone with their own limb before, but I__ always assumed that was a figure of speech. Apparently not.

You__e not going to let her do this, are you?_ Bones snorted. __et her? Mate, if you think you can control a woman, you must be single_-and a thousand pounds says she beats your arse.

We can choose not to remember this day, but bones have strong memories. And earth never forgets.

So I am not a broken heart. I am not the weight I lost or miles or ran and I am not the way I slept on my doorstep under the bare sky in smell of tears and whiskey because my apartment was empty and if I were to be this empty I wanted something solid to sleep on. Like concrete. I am not this year and I am not your fault.I am muscles building cells, a little every day, because they broke that day,but bones are stronger once they heal and I am smiling to the bus driver and replacing my groceries once a week and I am not sitting for hours in the shower anymore. I am the way a life unfolds and bloom and seasons come and go and I am the way the spring always finds a way to turn even the coldest winter into a field of green and flowers and new life. I am not your fault.

I__ a planner. I like to know what__ coming, that way I can figure out a way to deal with it._ He shot her a wink. __ wasna planned, and you handled that situation well._ It was a fact, but then again, who could ever prepare for a man like Dmitri?

I stood there feeling the lightness of my bones, knowing now this was not only lack of sleep that had transformed my bones into feathers, but my body's recognition that soon I would be leaving this place I had inhabited for one year, this place made entirely of grief.

The trauma said, __on__ write these poems.Nobody wants to hear you cry about the grief inside your bones.

i want the moon tattooed on my wristsmy grandmother keeps asking me to pray, i don__ have the heart to tell her that mypoems are the only God i have left in memy mother keeps leaving without saying goodbyei wish she__ let me cut my hair in the 7th grade,maybe i__ know how to deal with loss by nowi told myself i__ stop kissing boys who didn__ know my namei said, i__ stop picking at my bones like broken decorations,i__ quit with the smoking and the drunken poems, and when i said things like __y bones are heavy_ i would only mean itas a good thingheavy bones can__ be broken,you can__ break heavy bones

There are boneswaiting for names in the graveyards.Even the sun above us is dying, onelanded repetition of light at a time.

Sometimes it can be as brutally overwhelming as a tidal wave flooding every orifice, the suffocation, the pressure, the immensity of this damnable depression like an ocean, unsurmountable. It swallows me whole and gnaws at my very bones. It floods me over and over, drowning me over and over... It is a torturous broken record player with a scratched disc on repeat, the wailing disrupting any possible good remaining after the tsunami. It wails and wails inside my ribcage and inside my skull. I cannot make it stop.

Her eyes were of different colors, the left as brown as autumn, the right as gray as Atlantic wind. Both seemed alive with questions that would never be voiced, as if no words yet existed with which to frame them. She was nineteen years old, or thereabouts; her exact age was unknown. Her face was as fresh as an apple and as delicate as blossom, but a marked depression in the bones beneath her left eye gave her features a disturbing asymmetry. Her mouth never curved into a smile. God, it seemed, had withheld that possibility, as surely as from a blind man the power of sight. He had withheld much else. Amparo was touched__y genius, by madness, by the Devil, or by a conspiracy of all these and more. She took no sacraments and appeared incapable of prayer. She had a horror of clocks and mirrors. By her own account she spoke with Angels and could hear the thoughts of animals and trees. She was passionately kind to all living things. She was a beam of starlight trapped in flesh and awaiting only the moment when it would continue on its journey into forever._ (p.33)

See the world anew and write down the bones of it.

Wow. I didn't think I'd ever see you like that."Cam trembled; he couldn't help it. He felt like his body was not his own. "Like what?""So..." Sasha seemed to search for the right word. "Involved, maybe? On-screen, you all seem kinda cold. I guess I figured you'd done it all before." Cam took a moment to gather himself. A phrase came to him, and he allowed himself a wry grin. "It's not the same. That's work, even if it's one of my friends. This is real sex.