ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
Most people think of love as a concept – an intangible element that we spend our lives searching for, grasping like grains of sand but rarely holding tightly enough to fully experience. Some people even believe it’s a myth – a poor attempt to place a label on excuses for human inadequacies.
I say love is something you can see, almost everywhere, once you put reason in the trunk and allow whimsical to ride shotgun. It’s physical and metaphorical, apparent and incalculable, subtle yet smothering. Right now, where you sit, look and you’ll see it.
Love is the sweat dripping from a father’s forehead as he tightens the chain on his daughter’s bike. It’s the tension in the muscles of a hand holding a pick over the strings of Stratocaster illuminated by flood lights and vibrating from twenty thousand screams. It is the water drawn 300 feet in the air by a redwood tree.
Love is the smacking sound of an old man’s lips as he sips his morning coffee and the smile on an old woman’s face as she takes the compliment. It is a teacher rubbing her eyes so they will function after midnight as she grades her student’s work, the record sprint of a child from the bus to the lap of her mom, the tightness of the hug between the two, and the electromagnetic force behind the piece of rubber holding the paper with a big red “A+” on it to the refrigerator.
Love lives at that exact point at which an artist’s brush makes contact with the canvas. It jumps off a puppy’s wet nose, goes through a child’s face into his blood, and straight to his heart, and love softens the rough handle of a shovel when the family pet is buried. Love pushes the atmosphere out of the way of sound waves created by every blues song, and feeds off the embrace of couples on the dance floor.
Love follows tears down faces that cry and follows the edge of the moth up faces that laugh. It follows wave to the beach and sunsets out to sea. It is the stitching that holds together the quilt your grandmother made that lays folded on the back of the chair in the corner, and the neck tie from your son in your closet that doesn’t match anything.
Love tugs at the hands of people in hospital waiting rooms and makes the slides on playgrounds slicker. It is the thing that brings people to your house unannounced. It is a losing player offering a handshake to the winner after a football game and scabs on his arms and legs when he tries harder the next week. Love has never gone to war but has never left the side those affected by it.
Love is that is those things, and love is the feeling over your entire body at the exact moment you realize that all is this is true.
I say love is something you can see, almost everywhere, once you put reason in the trunk and allow whimsical to ride shotgun. It’s physical and metaphorical, apparent and incalculable, subtle yet smothering. Right now, where you sit, look and you’ll see it.
Love is the sweat dripping from a father’s forehead as he tightens the chain on his daughter’s bike. It’s the tension in the muscles of a hand holding a pick over the strings of Stratocaster illuminated by flood lights and vibrating from twenty thousand screams. It is the water drawn 300 feet in the air by a redwood tree.
Love is the smacking sound of an old man’s lips as he sips his morning coffee and the smile on an old woman’s face as she takes the compliment. It is a teacher rubbing her eyes so they will function after midnight as she grades her student’s work, the record sprint of a child from the bus to the lap of her mom, the tightness of the hug between the two, and the electromagnetic force behind the piece of rubber holding the paper with a big red “A+” on it to the refrigerator.
Love lives at that exact point at which an artist’s brush makes contact with the canvas. It jumps off a puppy’s wet nose, goes through a child’s face into his blood, and straight to his heart, and love softens the rough handle of a shovel when the family pet is buried. Love pushes the atmosphere out of the way of sound waves created by every blues song, and feeds off the embrace of couples on the dance floor.
Love follows tears down faces that cry and follows the edge of the moth up faces that laugh. It follows wave to the beach and sunsets out to sea. It is the stitching that holds together the quilt your grandmother made that lays folded on the back of the chair in the corner, and the neck tie from your son in your closet that doesn’t match anything.
Love tugs at the hands of people in hospital waiting rooms and makes the slides on playgrounds slicker. It is the thing that brings people to your house unannounced. It is a losing player offering a handshake to the winner after a football game and scabs on his arms and legs when he tries harder the next week. Love has never gone to war but has never left the side those affected by it.
Love is that is those things, and love is the feeling over your entire body at the exact moment you realize that all is this is true.
Literature
Fades Away
Fades Away
Do you remember that I cried,
The day you said goodbye?
Do you remember the pain in my eyes?
Do you remember that I told you,
That I would just die,
Because everything I believed...
Was a lie?
The heartache and the loss,
Oh my God what a cost
Sometimes we have to believe in nothing,
Just to believe in something
I learned along the way,
Be thankful for today,
Once it's over, it will never come again
Keep about you all your friends,
And never leave loose ends,
Because tomorrow becomes today,
And today...
Just fades away
Today fades just like the dark,
Before a new dawn
Feelings deep inside,
Ca
Literature
I Want To Feel You
I Want To Feel You
So long...
It seems...
Since I...
Have seen your face
So hard...
It feels...
To be...
Without you in the same place
I want...
To hold...
You close...
More than anything...
It's so cold!
And I know!
I just want to reach out for you,
And not let go!
I want to feel you!
Smell you!
Taste you!
More than anything
More than anything...
One day...
I know...
You'll come...
To me and never leave
I hear...
Your voice...
Telling me...
That in love you'll always be
I want...
To hold...
You close...
More than anything...
It's so cold!
And I know!
I just want to reach out for you,
And not let go!
I w
Literature
erroneous
youre correct in
your contention that
any number of women
would happily take
my place in
your bed
where you err
is your assumption
that any of them
could come close
to replacing
me
Suggested Collections
Comments45
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In