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About Literature / Hobbyist Member Jade20/Female/United States Group :iconghosts-of-literature: Ghosts-Of-Literature
 
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SleepingInTheShadows
Jade
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
College Student -- Future Engineer -- Hopeless Romantic

just a 20 year old girl trying to find her way through life one mistake at a time.

i love all types of art. traditional art is my favorite but digital art is a close second. i'm addicted to watercolors. crocheting is now my favorite pastime. oh, and poetry. yeah, if you haven't already noticed it's kinda important to me. losing it would be like losing an arm. or a leg. not a foot though.

there shouldn't be anything else you need to know but feel free to drop me note anytime. i'm always here to talk.
Interests
  • Mood: dA Love
  • Listening to: Take Flight - Lindsey Sterling
  • Reading: My Thoughts
  • Watching: Sailor Moon Crystal
  • Playing: Little Kingdom
  • Eating: Lunch
  • Drinking: Water
I had known of deviantART long before I made my account; it was a place that I loved visiting. It was full of beautiful creativity and honestly mesmerized me sometimes. After sometime of simply lurking amongst the art as a simple audience member I finally decided to join the community that I had inadvertently fallen in love with. So on February 20, 2012 I made my account and delved into the incredibly supportive and amazingly talented art community that for the past 2 years I have called home. 

When I first made my account I figured it'd be nice to just share my art, I didn't really plan on getting a lot of feedback or really making many friends. I thought that maybe I'd post a poem or two, maybe even a drawing if I was feeling confident. But then my eyes were opened. I started finding new mediums and outlets for my creativity and I was supported by all the wonderful people who encouraged me to express myself and to never give up. It was deviants like Krissi001 and SparklyDest and Pixacious that inspired me to try my hand at pixeling. It was a whole new world of art that I was glad I discovered; though I don't really dabble much in it anymore it will always have a special place in my heart. One of my particular favorites here on dA, agnes-cecile inspired me to dabble in portraiture and watercolors. They were a foreign genre of traditional art that I never considered myself good enough to pursue. Now watercolors are my favorite medium of all time. Then I moved onto photography, having been blown away by the dear LensReflex and her beautiful work.

But ultimately I found my home, my favorite place on dA: the Literature community. I had always written poetry but it was a hobby, something I never really saw potential for. I was a bit hesitant when I first started submitting poems; I didn't think they'd go anywhere. But then the love came pouring in. It blew me away. I never thought in a million years people would be praising me for my poetry. I thought they were just the ramblings of a stressed out teenager that needed an outlet. But you guys made me see other wise. You guys gave me the support and encouragement and inspiration I needed to continue writing. And it is through all you glorious people that I have found that I absolutely LOVE doing it. DearPoetry, littleblueraccoon, PrussianPersephone, and A-Lovely-Anxiety you are the deviants that became my ultimate inspiration. I loved reading your work, but I also loved your passion and your kindness. You will always have special places in my heart. As I grew as a writer, I became more immersed in the Lit Community and met even more kind souls. I know that as I spend more time here that I hope I can repay all the gratitude that I have been fortunate enough to receive.

I just want to take the time to thank each and everyone of you that has inspired me, encouraged me, and shared your kindness with me over these past 2 lovely years. 

:heart: Phantomtigers introverted-ghost chromeantennae oaklungs atlantic-lungs Lissomer AlphaManifest YellowBeast Breath-of-Isis Driftingnotes TwilightPoetess SilverInkblot justayne lostmymind193 Miss-Sherlocked seaboundstars Silidons00 Tangled-Tales TheyCallMeLoud Whyles your-methamphetamine SazLeigh The-Jelly-Princess vulnerate TheChesherCat SeptemberSkies2298 xxsempit3rnalxx CorporateRockWhore AyeAye12ListentomeSCREAM craneHARDCORE WordOfChen  and many many more! :heart:

I want to especially thank Deaths-Lament, you were there from the beginning. You were one of my first friends and I will always remember you for that. In all honesty if it had not been for you and all the other lovely people here, I would have given up the ghost and thrown in the towel a long time ago. So thank you. :tighthug:


In these 2 short years I have grown so much because of the wonderful people I have met on here. And I can't wait for what's to come in the following years. The rest of this journal I would like to dedicate to my wonderful friends and their amazing talents.

LITERATURE

Poet x Poet‘‘pen me,’’
she slipped off
her dust-jacket
and spread her
pages,
he pressed his
fingers on
her newly bared
spine,

‘‘romanticism.’’
‘‘oh,’’
she shifted her
hand below
his layers of
endpapers,
brushing his hard-
back with
whispers of uninhibited
lust,

‘‘write me.’’
  GalaxiesIt's not that I feel that
I come from a different world
It's that
I am orbiting this planet.
You keep to the ground
Living your life in shades of blue and gray
While far away
I whisper a story of silver and gold
and dream of the stars
  SapiosexualI don’t know what I’ll do
when the first fistful
of dirt hits the bottom.
Maybe I’ll follow you to the grave.
Or maybe I’ll pray
for a zombie apocalypse,
so we can dine on each
other’s brains one more time.
  if my body is flint your fingers are steelstrike a
match
upon my
skin,
send us
both up
in flames.
  It's Okay to be ImperfectThe moon
has craters
too,
and look
how bright
it shines,
even in
the darkest
of times.
  my forever lies in your armsI find myself writing about you too often
Is this really what there is to it?
Night after night, my fingers write silly love poems
About the safety I find in your arms
About the reassurance my mind thinks is your eyes
I find myself idealizing you too much
Is this really what there is left to it?
Day after day, my heart makes up silly excuses
Of why you left and didn't come back
Of why it's only teenager love
I believe i've already sold my soul to you
Want it or not, it's eternally yours.
  leech.There's a dead girl
inside of me,
clutching to my tendons
and hitchhiking 
through my vertebrae.
She reminds me
that I will be dead one day,
just like her.
Sometimes she 
shows herself:
in pale patches 
of my skin,
in a rattling cough,
in a hospital bed at age seven, 
where I wanted to die
before I knew what it meant.
The bitch likes to play games,
too,
and she always wins.
she's the one in my skull
pushing buttons
to see what it will make me do.
I've hated her
since the day I was born,
but sometimes
I feel bad for her.
She is lonely,
and she wants me
to be her friend.
She's lingered inside of me
for years,
hoping for the moment
when I finally get sick of her
and gouge her from my brain.
  Can You Hear It?Can you hear it?
Can you hear the screaming?
The screaming is so loud.
It's so overwhelming.
 
Can you hear it?
Can you hear the voices?
They're so powerful.
The voices are so deep.
 
The screaming is getting louder.
I'm confused.
My vision has gone blurry.
My head is pounding.
 
Can't you hear them?
 
They're coming for me.
 
Please, help me!
 
Help me!
 
Help!
  god never meant for us to be anything1. patrick
i expected wonders
from a boy with a tongue
like a viper and a small,
spare room in a strange house.
i did not get them.
2. tyrone
i tasted my first cigarette 
on your lips.
and couldn't wash the taste 
out for weeks.
i never smoked again.
3. zacc
we were a divine mistake,
right down to the way 
your hands skittered 
over my flesh like deer.
your mother 
read the fury on my face
as i left.
4. blake
a dark room
and misplaced pillows 
caught my disinterest
and muffled it
while you pulled off your shirt.
it never went as far as you had hoped.
5. luke
you taught me  
the disadvantages 
satin sheets hold.
i taught you 
how to feel falsely oppressed.
6. peter
you taught me how to appreciate 
the shape of kind hands 
and quiet lips 
in a rowdy school yard.
i forgot your name
within a year 
and recall it with doubt.
7. markus
my hips had not
swollen to accommodate a fetus.
your interest lay with
my mothe
rain.i still have buckets in my room
from when you poured your heart out.
plastic pails full of pain and love
and lust and tears and names and smiles.
i don't know why i keep them...
maybe i hope one day you'll come back
to claim them.
or when i'm being really dumb
i let myself hope that you'll come back anyway
for me.
  Broken StillnessThere's a stillness to missing you
that creeps up, a stalking phantom,
in silent moments.  Breathless 
and whispering, the night is your
shadow--alive, it scoops
the secrets lining my ribs
with clawed hands.  You told me,
once, that watching me flit
around the room 
was the best part of your day.
I put googly eyes on all
my pictures of you; maybe tomorrow,
I'll find the strength to admit
you're gone.  Lost.  Never coming
home.  For now, I talk
to these faded print-outs
and tap the glass
to watch your eyes move.
  On WritingWrite for today
And like it’s all
That’ll be left of you
Tomorrow.
Never write for popularity.
Write with clarity, but
‘Don’t make everything said’.
Write a million things;
An ode to the voice
Inside your head,
An elegy for the living,
A carpe diem for the dead.
Write to tell
People going
Through hell,
To just keep
Going;
They’ll find a way out.
Don’t write for approval,
Or judgement;
That way misery lies.
Poetry can’t be judged,
Not properly –
It’s subjective,
Different to
Different eyes.
Write for yourself;
Doesn’t matter if it’s
Good enough for
Anyone else.
You’ll never be Shakespeare.
But he’d never
Have been you;
Pour your heart into it,
That’s the best
That you can do.
  .did you spend
last night digging
in my graveyard of a chest?
i seem to have a hole
this morning -
where did you put
your heart you
bitch, i know you
must have one there
somewhere
,
and when the light lets
itself in through
my bedroom curtains,
i will always say
get fucked
fuck off
fuck you
go fuck up
someone else
,
do you still crack
your knuckles when you're
angry? take two
sugars with your
tea, carry a scythe?
well i carry the devil
in from the car when he's too
tired to walk, he tugs
at my sleeve with his little
red fists, says i know how
hard it is to get closure
on something
that makes you feel
ripped wide open, mate,
now carry me in i'm too
tired for all this tonight -
oh, one more thing
,
the shore can never leave
the sea
no matter how hard
it tries, again and
again, you're going to get
fucked by the current,
so just go with the flow
it gets better,
spend the rest of your
life laying in that
bed you made,
spend the rest of yo
  How to love a girl who can't love herself.one.
    When she cries herself to sleep
    six out of seven nights a week you must
    say nothing. You must simply take
    her in your arms and kiss her gaunt,
    pale cheeks and wait for her to
    slumber at the sound of your heart.
two.
    On the days where she wishes she
    were part of the stars, tell her
    no. Tell her that there are too many
    lights in the sky and that just one
    would be forgotten the moment you looked
    away from it. Tell her that she is perfect
    the way she is: completely human.
three.
     Don't let her think about the scars
     that no one but her can see. If she
     says "I think I'm broken" smile like you
     know a secret and say, "No, you're mending."
     But do not be the one to fix her - no, she
 

6 ways on learning how to swim1. toes first
when i was younger i thought i was
beautiful.  not like the other girls, of course, but i thought that
the sun followed me around because it thought i was pretty.
and i am a shop-a-holic.  money burns a hole in
the back pocket of my jeans because i love to spend it.
but i do not like to go shopping.  i love the idea and hate the activity.
there are few days that trying on clothes brings me
happiness because there are even fewer days that i love my
body enough to look in a mirror.
but i am trying.
("i love this dress!  i can't believe that it fit!
i dropped another size!"
"taylor."
"what, mom?  why are you looking at me like that?"
"...oh, please.  one size?")
2. floating
there are days when i don't leave my house and there are days
that i spend the time to put on makeup and
nice clothes to open the door and feel the fresh air and
to admire all the lovely, smiling, silently judging people who
i think are looking at me, but they probably aren't
  Nickel dreamsUnder oathes of
silent screams
and blackened nights
the headlights scream
with my inner voices
I can tell I'm low down
because my eyes
are closing
and all I can think about is you
I've lost count of my obsessions,
All I know is,
you're far from the last
  linguistics of silence 101don’t drop your ellipses
on your freckled-with-pity
walk out of our sentence. I
have only been taming
your paragraphs into stanzas. don’t
let your rosy chest-wings quit
just yet.
breathe, my love,
find a sinus rhythm in your
sporadic juxtaposed days;
there is a typo error
in your impulsive ways and i’m
afraid that is more
editing than i’m used to.
let’s uncapitalize those articles, it all
starts from there
breathe, you must
silence yourself.
page break, turn it over,
skim a reading, halt that anger and
filter those strong
homophone-leaves; I
am trying too.
let your grown-out hair lay
free for once instead of your
tongue. punctuate your eyes with
sleep, with peace;
breathe. it all
stops
when you forget to see.
but you’re still here hoping
to correct me.
pace yourself when you
braid your patience. don’t
curve too fast like the sharp turns
in your purge-swollen colon.
where
is your punctuation, darling?
where is your grey,
calming hyphen? have you
  p-o-e-t is but four letters.I'm not a poet.
I am a
I
biologist:
dissecting life
and reconstructing the deconstructed
into impossible architecture,
extracting the right chromosomes,
inserting into paper plasmids:
linguistic engineering.
II
dancer:
In a tango of typography
words will flow
to the beat of pens,
stomp of the keyboard,
typewriter's applause.
III
sacrifice:
watch as I take my blades of ink
and bleed the truth
into the cosmic bathtub,
muddy the water in melodrama,
trap the world in a vermilion spiral
drifting downwards in blank verse.
IV
creator:
I doodle imagery
in the sketches of complexity,
paint universes in a
brush dripped in metaphors,
simile-based watercolour dripping off notebooks
in tears, laughter and literature.
V
You can't contain this dance in one word.
  My Two Precious CornersFrom my corner,
I like to watch,
The children run and play.
Their laughter echoes through the room,
Even on rainy days.
From my corner,
In this room,
I observe people's life.
Sandy likes to sing and dance,
Edward likes to bite.
People come,
And people go,
People won't say hi,
That's okay, though,
I'm just fine,
Because they say good bye.
I write things down,
In my book,
Poems about life,
Sometimes Sandy likes to come,
To play songs on her fife.
Such pretty tunes would fill my ears,
Lullabies of love,
Her voice is just a serenade,
A gift sent from above.
From my corner,
Oh so sweet,
I watch as days go by.
The teacher once had told me,
That one day I'd fly high.
He said I was a special soul,
The type that payed attention,
He called me an observer,
And took no one as exceptions.
So from my corner,
Here I write,
And watch as people grow.
I watched as Edward shined so bright,
A reminiscent glow.
My lonely self still sad and dark,
To this day I'm alone.
But even so,
In my small heart,
Some h
do not marry a writer.do not marry a writer.
their only love is a pen,
or weapon of choice.
their only home is the mind.
do not marry a writer.
they will leave you for hours,
lost in different worlds.
pulling them out is like waking a sleepwalker.
dangerous.
they will never live the same moment again.
thoughts are lightning quick,
and will never strike the same place more than once.
marry a writer.
only if you want your body
transformed into words.
do not marry a writer.
if you are a flower
requiring constant watering.
you will die, and we will turn your ashes into l e t t e r s.
but marry a writer,
if you want to live forever.
  How to love a poet:                      Expect them to be flawed,
                      a field of wild flowered-
                      imperfections, sticky
                            metaphors
                               & an inability
                      to speak.
                      Love them anyway.
                      Know that when they look at you
                      they are noticing the little things.
               
Hello Again Sweetheart.How can I be sad today
When I have you on my mind?
How could I feel alone
Knowing I'll hear from you tonight?
"Hello again, your as beautiful as ever,
You seam to be frozen in time...
Because every time I see you
You're as perfect as the first time we met."
A picture perfect image still in my head
Standing against time and never fading away,
These messages sent from my brain to my heart
Tell me to forget that day.
But no matter how hard I press delete
I still find myself reading over this note,
I still find myself day dreaming about the day we met,
The day when life seamed a little more blessed...
"Well hello again sweetheart,
Your voice is still as soft as an angels,
Tell me about your day again
So I can keep up on this story of ours."
How can I be sad tonight
When all I have is your picture in my hand?
How could I be afraid when I fall to sleep
Knowing you'll be right there waiting?
What we think we know.Love, hate, a misguided allusion
I used to hold your hand
Before I realized it was confusion,
Ugly, a word, I used to say a lot
Describe myself as wearing
A sinister plot,
Wrong and right
No ones to tell,
A little white lie
If that means you go to hell.
Blood and weapons
A gun to the head,
I used to hear the noises
Of the circulating dead,
Roses found
On top an empty grave,
Where the name of the person
Has yet to be engraved
The ugliness in life is the beauty in our dreams,
For what reason would we live
If we didn't have a gleam,
A hope, a truth, or maybe even a lie,
That beamed down on us
And told us how to hide,
The facts, the decencies
The things that keep us sane,
Are all a bunch of rhythms
That don't mean a thing.
  Sensual TortureSensual Torture:
You are but a simple pawn;
Caught in a maelstrom of ill feelings and turmoil.
You were not meant to be here -
But unfortunately, here you are my friend...
Now then, I do not wish to drag this out;
There is no purpose in badgering someone who knows so little.
However - without your confession - I'm afraid that
I would not know whom I should share my - pleasures with...
Though I'm certain that you will be sharing plenty...
Of course, it will probably be a poor idea to make you scream,
At least not while I'm still enjoying your fear.
Instead we'll begin with a simple agony;
A quick taste of your pain to whet my appetite...
We'll begin with just a thin incision,
One that is made in the center of both your eyelids.
And then, then we'll make another cut - this one just above the eyes...
Ah, I will adore the feeling of watching your skin peel apart
As the scalpel bites in and draws it aside; much like the curtain
Set upon a theatre stage. It is the
  Self-DestructionI hate you so much
yet
I love you to death.
I want to be [as far away from you as possible,]
but I know I could -never live without you.-
I'm the only one who can truly
see through your mask and
I wish you would let others see,
but I know exactly why you don't want to.
And as crazy as it sounds,
I understand your masochistic ways.
When you have pain in your life,
you want it to {go away,}
but when it's not there,
you feel ...e.m.p.t.y...
I get it.
And I know how afraid you are
[of yourself]
and how afraid you are
of others.
I know you have trust issues and even though
I know the most about you,
I know you don't trust me.
It's okay though,
because even though you, too, know the most
about me,
I don't trust you.
It's like we need each other
for support,
otherwise we wouldn't even be friends.
But maybe we would, because we have
everything in common.
From the bands we like
to our favorite color,
it's almost like you're me.
So w


TRADITIONAL ART

Red by craneHARDCORE I Caught Fire by TylerCreatesWorlds waves - to and fro by agnes-cecile

PHOTOGRAPHY

The Hidden Soul by Becca-Bright

Those Winter Blues by Annimouse

C83c8478 by LensReflex
 
EMOTICONS
    deviantART HQ by Synfull   bring me to life by Krissi001  Emote Seasons by a-kid-at-heartWeeping Angels by SparklyDest Emote king - :emoteking: by NerdyGeekyDweeb Dark Magician by I-is-smart Dignified Zombie - NaNoEmo 6/30 by BlissfullySarcastic


And now to present favorites from my own gallery
coming up roseswe’re sitting here on your couch
the light of the TV reflecting in our eyes;
my head rests on your shoulder as I
listen to your voice, each of your words bouncing off
the walls and soaking into my skin.
(I can feel your warmth radiating
through me soft and glowing,
I just want to curl up into you)
there’s butterflies bubbling up
in my throat and a gentle heat in my palms—
i’m nervous.
I quickly slip my fingers in-between
yours and watch you unfold;
you stop mid sentence, eyes darting to our entwined fingers
and that’s when I see what I can only
describe as love
blossom
on the apples of your cheeks.
a smile splits my face in the
quiet silence of our breathing,
a single thought comes to my mind:
I am complete.
  how to be my loveri.
look me in the eyes and count the stars
that you see reflecting in their
faltering irises as my
pupils dilate to show you what’s inside.
ii.
hear the symphony that is my body:
the clicking of my tongue as I pull at
 the hem of my shirt,
the silent whispers of my breath as I
 exhale my butterflies,
the war drum beating of my heart
 as it hangs upon my sleeve.
iii.
feel my hand tucked tightly
between the ridges and gaps
of your calloused palm like a puzzle piece
that doesn’t quite fit.
(leave your fingerprints along my spine
so that I may find you the day
you become lost.)
iv.
taste my name on your lips;
salty, sour, bittersweet.
savor each and every morsel
as you devour me
letter by letter,
limb by limb.
v.
breath me in like the fragrance of a fine wine—
i am a smoke that
will soothe your senses and pull those
ever pleasant words from your
pretty little mouth.
  amputeeyou are nothing but a cancerous appendage;
like a carcinogen rich cigarette you light my bones on fire,
pocking my skin in ashy scars
and choking me with your sick, selfish poison.
I am not your ashtray.
I made the mistake of ignoring the infection the first time,
letting it fester under my flesh like a
rash I couldn’t scratch, but not this time;
I won’t let this become terminal because I’m cutting you off—
I’d rather be one leg short than
knee deep in your corrosive waste.
  head over heelsi’m tripping over
my two left feet
like the words
that are gracelessly
fumbling from
my chewed lips,
my fingers dance
across the edge
of my shirt
trying to get
a grip on reality.
my nerves are just
kindergarten scribbles
on coloring pages
stuck in the back of
my throat—
i can’t see you
past the beautiful
view of my converse
and the concrete weeds
that bloom
beneath my feet.
can you hear it?
that infernal noise
ringing out above
the awkward
hellos and shy goodbyes?
that’s the sound
of my heart flailing,
t-t-tumbling
head over heels,
and praying;
she’s praying for a
set of arms to
break her fall.
  fancythe first night I met you
my heart shuddered
like a mic check
one two, one two,
can you hear me?
loud and clear,
above the static
I’ve got you ringing
in my ears and
butterflies working
overtime, slowly
making a mess
of my insides.
two hours later
we’re exchanging
mix tapes like
old world friends
and my butterflies
have migrated to my
tongue, sprouting
words from my
lips like a secret
garden left
to fester
and bloom.
thirty two days and
counting
and i’ve still got
lightning sparking
in my veins;
this storm you’ve
created rages in
my chest,
throwing caution to
the wind and
pulling me
deeper in the
undertow.
i’m drawing
infinity symbols
on my palms because
time escapes me
when I’m with you;
you’re a mysterious fog
that gives my restless
soul a home
and I think
I might fancy you.


Little Dawn by SleepingInTheShadows
6. Dew Drop by SleepingInTheShadows


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:iconme2smart4u:
Me2Smart4U Featured By Owner Sep 6, 2014  Student Digital Artist
:party: Happy Birthday :party:
I Hope U Have A Blessed And Wonderful Day.
May All Your Wishes Come True :heart:
Reply
:iconsleepingintheshadows:
SleepingInTheShadows Featured By Owner 2 days ago  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you so much!
Reply
:iconme2smart4u:
Me2Smart4U Featured By Owner 6 hours ago  Student Digital Artist
you are most welcome:hug:
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:iconsanna2011:
Sanna2011 Featured By Owner Sep 6, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Happy Birthday! :hug:
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:iconsleepingintheshadows:
SleepingInTheShadows Featured By Owner Sep 6, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you. (:
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:iconsanna2011:
Sanna2011 Featured By Owner Sep 6, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
your welcome
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:iconnightswarriors:
NightsWarriors Featured By Owner Sep 6, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Happy Birthday!! Party:chairdance: PARTY HARD Party Hard! HappyDance Professor Party 
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:iconsleepingintheshadows:
SleepingInTheShadows Featured By Owner Sep 6, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you (:
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:iconnightswarriors:
NightsWarriors Featured By Owner 6 days ago  Hobbyist General Artist
You're welcome:D
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:iconjastar4:
JAStar4 Featured By Owner Aug 12, 2014   Writer
Thank you for the llama <3
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