Muse 67: Age of Innocence

source unknown

Her bones felt achingly sore. Not that the comparison should make sense when she was merely fourteen years old. Fourteen felt like such an incredible age... of confusion. Her parents were already asking her what she wanted to do with her life, and the teachers, who didn't care, weren't making the decisions any easier. She was only fourteen, and her body shouldn't feel this way. Old and aching, as if she were ninety years old trapped in a youthful body. Every decision she wanted to make was challenged by a lingering fear that anything could change. As she squirmed in bed, wishing her ligaments didn't ache so much, she suddenly felt a wetness between her legs. Were her bones breaking apart? Her fingertips awkwardly touched where it hurt and came back up with blood. 

Muse 66: Animal

found via weheartit

Someone once asked me, "If you could be any animal, what would you be?" And I thought about it carefully. I thought about how nice it would be to run wild free among the grass, let the green blades brush against my skin. Then again, it probably wouldn't feel the same against a coat of fur, maybe I wouldn't feel it at all. So I imagined myself soaring in the wind, living in the heights of the trees. I could touch the sky and kiss the sun without the fear of Icarus. Of every animal I could change into, I imagined myself small so that I could hide away from all the predators and anything that could hurt me. I would run fast, fly faster and hide all the better. And then suddenly, when I looked at the five fingers that could have just as easily been claws, I felt disappointed. What a dumb ass question, I realized. You could tell me of any animal that I wished to be, but I have always been the same. I'm still an animal.

Muse 65: Perfect

found via ssense

I think, he said, you're perfect regardless. Well, that's what I heard him say in my mind but in actuality, I'm sure the spoken words never come close to my imagination. In the recess of my mind, everything he said was perfect because everything he did matched the prince charming I imagined to be. It was so hard to keep reality separate from fiction, so hard when all I wanted was everything to be perfect. Perfection has never been so disappointing; it was like when I discovered my blood wasn't blue, but red. I expected a wild blue sea to consume me when it all flowed out of those blue veins, but instead, I drowned in reality. 

Muse 64: Black/White

found via weheartit

In a world of shades of grey, he was strange. Everyone watched carefully whenever he came around. It was as if all the clocks stopped moving, as if there was an electrical charge that announced his presence. His pale, albino skin reflected the sunlight. Sometimes it hurt to look at him because he shone like snow; his brightness could only be eclipsed through the squint of an eye. He was so strange. He had jet black hair that did not lighten in the sun. His hair was so black that it felt like a large hole had grown over his head, ready to suck in everyone that dared to come near. But everyone kept their basic space from am to pm. It was a small circle like a shark net which keep him at bay. Je wasn't welcomed into their comfort zone. Yet nobody knew his name. They only knew he was strange.

And then there was one day the entire town fell into a blackout. Electricity shut down, the alarms and security cameras all lacked the power to do their job. In the growing darkness, large shadows took advantage, raping every insecure building until there was nothing left. I watched from my window, the safety of my home allowed me to be a spectator in this mess.

I watched as a little boy who was too young to be alone, scream with the strength of a slaughter lamb. Glass shards flew everywhere, piercing into his cheek as his tears became blood. “Mama! Mama!” His voice was a repetitive chime like the ringing wind bells, breaking my heart. I wrung my hands against the balcony edge as he stood, immobile, and ultimate chaos swirled around him like a hurricane.

Suddenly, the stranger came out of nowhere. Like a flash of lighting, as bright as white beacon, he scooped up the child and ran until he found a place untouched by danger. A snap of the shotgun tore through the air, and the pale man wrapped his arms around the boy. “Mama!” His white arms were now red, dripping maroon, as people rushed past, their arms full of knives, guns, and anything they could carry. All I could do was watch, and remember, as the man shielded the boy from pain. His dark hair and pale white were the black and white amongst the unsteady grey.

Muse 63: Retreat

found via wetbehindtheears

He stated those words gently as if he were breaking news about her husband's death. Even though she knew he was speaking the truth, she had to check her finger to make sure no ring was visible. She rubbed the spot as if there should've been a ring because he spoke as if there was a husband standing in between them. The fact was that there was no husband, and he was trying to talk as if he was offering, but his crass tone made her feel defensive, hunched back, and once more she retreated to a place where he couldn't reach her. 

Muse 62: Get Away

found via weheartit

Did you forget? We had a time where symbols weren't a concern. I was six when I had a birthday party with life-size beavers and Cinderella. My smiles were priceless and my laughter could not be scanned through the store's bar codes. I don't think I thought about $ then. I can't remember the exact date when home actually coming back and not retreating directly to my room. @ defines my address now, and you can find my faster that way. Perhaps you can call my #, but I rather have a TXT because my ears aren't too good. I don't hear unless I want to. I live in my technological treehouse made of bits and bytes, forgetting that once upon a time I had dreams for my hands to achieve.  

Muse 61: Sand Castles

found via weheartit

We used to make castles out of sand. It was harder than it looked, harder than I imagined, but the attempts were always worth it when we took a group photo at the end. Those are one of the few photographs I physically own. I always liked the way film looks, the grainy feel. When we stopped going to the beach, I stopped making castles. Our photos are just stored on the computer. Sometimes I forget they are even there and I don't look back because it's not the same. I can't touch these pictures, but I guess all the same, the grainless photographs will still fall apart with the waves of time. 

Muse 61: Stars

found via samantha nina

She needed someone to tell her the truth straight. She needed words to come exactly as so: "Honey, you're so naive and insecure, can't you see his promises are lies?" And if her friend is wise, there will be a comparison using the moon. A lovely globe in the tiers of the sky, a disco ball that causes drunken lovers in their stupor to chase wishful thoughts, that he will not retrieve even with a million promises. "...but the thought of the moon in my hands is so lovely," she whispered. And her friend needs to be a good friend, and not swoon under romantic ideas. Her friend needs to say, "Take the stars and make your own necklace." 

Muse 60: Cheshire

alice in wonderland (2010)

"Why do you love the Cheshire Cat?" he asked curiously, twisting a strand of my hair in his finger. "Why do you love something so undependable and plain creepy?" I suppose I could explain to him how typical it was to love the White Rabbit, to love the Red Queen and her iconic statements, but it would blow my cover as the independent, fearless girl. How could I tell him that the Cheshire Cat reminded me of the way I wanted to kiss? Not some innocent peck or passionate pursuit, but a sun ray of smiles that will have me falling into his kiss. I'll disappear after that if I have to. A kiss should be that powerful. 

Muse 59: Birds

found via tumblr

It's always when the quiet is the loudest that I get scared the most. The fear approaches me like birds. Birds - I always hear the birds before I see them. Their wings flap like sheets of paper whipping against each other, and the noise grows louder, freakishly louder, until I'm pretty convinced that the birds are here to eat me. They're vultures in my mind. They're chasing me in vicious circles - cycles - until I drop down dead. "I don't want to go," my voice is mildly pathetic and I fold my hands over my face. I'm scared of the birds. I hear them before I can see them. They warn me I'm already dead.

Muse 58: Easy

found via sea of love

It was hardest in the beginning. The pain and longing hurt her chest much more than she imagined. For a girl that was accustomed to being alone for her entire life, for a girl who declared for an independence separate from men, a strength to prove that she could move mountains, this was a sign of pure weakness. It was especially worse the first time, like a druggie just getting used to living without drugs, she couldn't imagine her days without him. But then it got easier. She began to notice that his presence faded as the days passed, and she missed him less and less. It was easy. Like death.

Muse 57: Shutter

found via weheartit

I hold this camera wherever I go to make sure that I catch our story from beginning until the end. She asks me, constantly pestering me with her hands and words, to put the camera away because she's "shy." Camera shy, because - as she says - she's not photogenic.

"Does this mean you think you're more beautiful in reality?" I finally ask as we sit face to face on a sunny day. The light is perfect, and every click of the shutter forms a halo around her face. Her features are barely visible with the overexposed backlight, yet she still claims, "No, I don't think that, but just - Stop it, I look really ugly!" And I stop, my finger starving to press the shutter, but I think my eyes are just afraid of missing out each second she might change. She holds out her hand, all I see is her thin wrist, and says, "Can I have the camera?"

I don't complain when she holds the camera, fumbling clumsily to take a picture. It doesn't matter because when she looks through the viewfinder and sees my face, it says all the words she needs to know.

Muse 56: Wings

found via Hudsalva

As the sun slipped through the curtains, I raised my arms above my head. The strain on my muscles felt like a gentle pull, stretching out my arms into a giant pair of wings. Granted, it doesn't take much to fly when you have all the right feathers growing straight from the pores. I like to think of my fingers reaching for the sky as the outstretched wingspan that will bring me to the clouds. I don't know, I think I just like stretching in the morning.

Muse 55: Zoo

found via m-meow

I felt like an accessory to a collection; not so much a mark on the bedpost or a tally in a long succession of winnings, but something beautiful that would enhance the physical appeal. Moving in the world has never been any different from attending a zoo, a park full of wild animals that don't belong there. This world is a gilded cage. Your world is no different from the rest. The safe gates ease souls into believing that the easy life is behind doors. Silver spoons, forks and knives feed your trapped lips and you have no worry.

Muse 54: Safety Blanket

source unknown

Last night you weren't here, and the darkness shadows was ready to haunt me. They was behind the door, hidden within the shadows. They are formless beings that are waiting for me to be alone. What I fear is not hidden underneath my bed, it is lying inside of me, ready to crawl out as soon as I fall asleep. Oh god, I'm so afraid and you're not here with me. I miss you so desperately because you're my safety blanket. You keep the nightmares and the monsters out.

Muse 53: Ill

found via we heart it

"You need a bath," she said, noting the dry scales on his hands. "We can take one after this show finishes. I know how much you like Jeopardy." He gazed at the unblinking screen as if the blue fluorescent glow had mesmerized him, but there was too much sunlight for that to be possible. Nevertheless, she continued to work around him with her scrubs' strings hanging loosely by her side. She took a wet cloth and started working at his feet, wiping at the dust that had collected into a fine layer. Dust does fall and stick over whatever cannot move.

Muse 52: Silvia

found via laura failyau

You are Silvia Thompson, girl drowning on account of her own inhibitions. Every time I say your name there is an urgency buried underneath my voice. If I crack, it's because I'm scared your ears will have dried up by the time I've physically reached you. So I always scream your name; I always cry it out loud with an aching need for you to turn around. Underneath this skin, I tear my masculinity to shreds. Souls are made of a certain cloth, and I fear that I am made more of yours. And I am watching you unravel yourself, lost, to take more of me - Silvia, hear me speak before you have all of me... before I can speak no more.

Muse 51: Burden

source unknown

I am sad that the pain can only be saved through pain. Is happiness such an insufficient eraser that the only way to make a mistake go away is to mark it darker until the problem explodes into oblivion? I suppose that's the way the world has always gone about to get what it wants. We started small: sin with an apple, then grew on to wage wars, create atomic bombs and the destruction of races, all by a simple knock of dominoes though to be human intelligence. All endings have come about in the same manner. With more pain. Humans labour their revenge until death; generations pay deep beyond their lifetime. Although I could turn my other cheek, my words can cut you and I will say them until you bleed. My pain becomes yours until we bury each other.

Muse 50: Protection

found via we heart it

A part of me wanted you - closely, tightly, and ever so slightly warm. A chill ran down my arms as I felt the February wind blow across the earth, and I didn't need a second to spare. I wished for the spring to come earlier so a warmer breeze would brush down the hairs on my arms... for the skies to keep the sun's rays out a little longer... for the hour that would come to skip, not to skip at all... but most of all, through the ellipses and thoughts, I found myself wishing - not for spring - for you. So you could block the winter wind, become my summer sky and make time standstill.

Muse 49: Daze

found via dennis schoenberg

He was crazy about planning - he didn't plan at all. Although I had the car and the steady cash, the promised future and a good luck past, he was the one who called in moments like four am and told me to pick him up on the corner of Dante's Pub. He was always the one barely clothed, yet if clothed at all, he wore the bare minimum. Greeting with a smile and a short thanks, he slid into the passenger seat and said, "Drive anywhere, just not home. I don't care where you go." Of course I took the road towards home, and so he snapped out directions that I begrudgingly followed until we ended up on a road with nothing but tree and trees for miles and miles. Somehow he got me to stop, I thought he had to pee, but he started walking into the forest. It was five am. So I parked my car and followed him, and he kept walking, and I followed in fear that he would disappear in the labyrinth and never return to me. He kept walking until it was six am, where the sun broke through the trees casting shadows and shades around us. Suddenly he stopped, with a crinkled frown, sobered but hung over, and asked, "I don't know where I'm going?" I smiled and caught up while he stood in stupor. I kissed his cheek and whispered that if anything, I knew how to get back.

Muse 48: Hypocrite

unknown

You are so small, he said. Where will you go and how will you get there with those feet? Someone can come and take you away, carry your small frame like the wind carries the leaves. All she could do was smile in reply, in agreement, as he rambled on about her size and frail form that would snap under any pressure. They walked, and he said, You need to be careful, you're so tiny that anyone could hurt you. He said this adamantly, and she merely smiled knowingly. They came to a fork in the road where he gave her a hug, Well here is where I say goodbye, and they parted, and she returned alone.

Muse 47: Threadhold

found via samantha lamb

She overcomplicated opinions into facts, into truths that only belonged to her. Like a spool of thread, she wound her words repeatedly over and over for safekeeping, as if they could bring her back to the beginning. Her opinions were her own color. When she took them out to sew a quilt, the threads did not hold, and her safety blanket fell apart.