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About Deviant Artist SavanahFemale/United States Recent Activity
Deviant for 10 Years
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A Garden
I can feel grass growing
All along the insides
Of my skin and my mouth and in-between my toes and
I think that
The inside of my heart must look like
A garden and
I think that
When I hold just still enough
I can feel petals and
Leaves and things
Tickling my lungs and maybe even
My liver
And I just
Wanted to thank you
For taking the time
To plant them all
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Intimacy isn't
Your skin on my skin
While you
Breathe into me;
That's all just
Backseats and front seats and
Half an hour before curfew and
Realizing how complicated belt buckles are;
That's all
That is.
While intimacy is
Being barefoot in front of you
Because my toes move like lips and eyebrows
And wrinkle like the bridge of your nose
While intimacy is
Yawning without covering your mouth
Making wishes out loud
Singing somewhere other than the shower
and admitting what song reminds me of
And so
Even though
I've got a hand on your buckles
And my tongue on your throat,
Don't expect to catch me without my socks on anytime soon,
Because I've got boundaries.
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Her name was Alice and I was very much in love with her; I always had been, and I always would be. She was beautiful, in her own way, and quiet as the wind's knocking knuckles against a window. She didn't smile as often as I wish she had, and her laugh was like a volcano erupting; loud and unexpected. She read more poetry than she wrote and painted her toenails red but refused to wear open-toed shoes. She never, never, never broke a promise.
"Do you believe in fate?" She asked me, lying on her side and watching me carefully, a blade of grass between her teeth.
"What do you mean?" I answered with a question and she didn't smile, just stared more intently at me.
"I believe in fate." She said simply and turned gently, as if she might break herself, onto her back and stared up at the stars. "I believe in fate."
Fate was our growing up next door to one another in small, shitty apartments that housed more rats and molds than it did decent people. Fate was our rooms being right next together,
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They Catch One Another
"Do you think that
Snowflakes are afraid to fall?
I'd be
To jump like they do."
I wonder if she
Really means that she's afraid
To love me, too
I wonder if she
Really means that she's afraid
To fall in love, again
I wonder if she
Knows that
My arms are so wide open
That if I stretch any further
I'd break
I think
That they catch one another."
And I think
I'll catch you, too
When you're ready to fall
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This is a Letter
This is a letter.
Dear You,
It isn't a love letter.
A flowery confession would be easy
No, not flowery—but a confession, all the same
It is a recipe, I think
Two tablespoons regret
One ounce bitter
Mostly it's pathetic—
You don't know me like you used to
So maybe you can't hear/feel/see
What's going on behind all of these vowels
So, (for mostly Old Time's sake.) I'll tell you
I am
On my knees
On my stomach
My forehead to the floor
I am
Crying into the carpet
Praying into my hands
Pleading and begging too quietly for you to hear
I am
So sorry
I could write four books on the ways I am sorry
Everything is screaming it;
My skin, finger nails, eyelashes, everything but my mouth
Is screaming it,
"I am so sorry."
But what
Do I matter?
Does it matter?
Will begging do?
Dear You,
You are… a hard sentence to finish.
You used to be
My absolute everything
Picked me up, shook me off, kept me safe.
My absolute everything.
What are you now?
Not what you used to be.
Not what you cou
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No. 12
She says that it stars out with
Or two. threefourfive.
(pop, pop, pop.)
And down with a slurp
It's dizzy
and it's maybe a little bit
but, whatever it is,
"Oh, God," she says, "whatever it is,
it's better than what really is."
And so it goes
Pop! Pop!
One, two, four... seven
Things are turning
Most everything is churning
And she's got her head
in her hands
And she's shaking
And she's laughing
And I think she might be crying
And then
And then
She looks up and she says to me,
"One day, no special day, you look down, and you see that you're holding seven different rainbows in the palm of your hand."
"But," she says,
"Not the sense enough to care."
She covers her face.
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DeviantID by ForeverIsLimited DeviantID :iconforeverislimited:ForeverIsLimited 2 2
Creative Writing 01
Cross my heart and hope to die, right?
I pinky promise, I won't tell
Whisper some more, in my ear
Tell me everything you think I want to hear.
I'm the monster underneath your bed;
Hungry for your secrets, fingernails, and toes
Covered in nail polish and perfumes,
Why don't you
Pull the covers up, just a little bit further
Everybody knows, that if you can't see me
Then I can't see you
Let's talk morbid, let's talk God and religion
Let's talk about the better sex and the creepy crawlies beside your bed
Let's talk war!
Let's talk famine!
Now, now, let's not pretend you can't hear me.
Tell me a story.
Tell me you're sorry.
No, never mind, forget it
Do you remember that time
You gave your heart to me?
And then I chewed it up
And then I spit it up, right back at you?
Do you remember that time
That I just couldn't apologize fast enough?
I'll bet you do.
Colour me vengeful.
Colour me bitter.
And since we're breaking out the crayons, let's play a game;
Tag, you're it.
But don't worry
I won't te
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Lucid Dreaming
Have you ever heard of lucid dreaming?
Give me your hand
Just like the night before
And the night before that
And probably tomorrow night
And let me whisper
Everything you need to hear
Into your ear;
And let me weave things spun sweet
Over your skin and let it keep you warm
And when we come to the place
Where you wake up crying
Instead of turning to me
And watching me break you down with my bare hands
Why don't you pull me close?
Why don't you pull me close?
And kiss me as sweetly as your childhood
And why don't you try to know
Everything you could mean to me
Let me kiss you back
As sweetly as you deserve.
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A Pack a Day
Light up, light up
Cherries brighter than the sun
Hotter than anything we've ever had
The second one
Just before the sun
Slid in-between the frown of a game machine
Even though we both know those things are rip offs
Two Three
No hello and no goodbye
Just one nice, long drag
Turn around so you don't have to see
The sun not waving hello to you
And make love to a lighter
Fall asleep with it still burning
That makes four
Sleep until
Something scratches at the roof of your mouth
It might be me
It'll be five, six before you know it
Seven Eight Nine Ten
Must be that damn woman again
Wish I knew her name
Actually, that's not true; I don't give a rat's ass about her
Eleven doesn't burn as hard as two
So we'll brighten up twelve for scientific merit
Thirteen is really only a half
Because there's a knock on the door
From – I don't know who
Who needs lunch?
You've got a number fourteen
Let's have seconds and thirds in between supper
Let's skip supper all together
Lunch doesn
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The Place Where I Hang
In my dreams
I hang
From the moon
Whose face smiles
Down at me
In my hand
I hold a bucket
Full of stars
Stars are much heavier
Then they look
When you are staring up at them
From your bedroom window
I hold them
With both hands
And peek into the bucket
The stars make my face light up
Not quite in the same way
Your smile does
But almost
Hopes and dreams and wishes
Are stars
And they swim around
In the bucket I hold
Like so many colorful fish
I want to scoop them all up
I want to stuff my pillow with them
I want to wear them as jewelry
But mostly I want to use them to spell your name
In the night sky
From the place
Where I hang.
:iconforeverislimited:ForeverIsLimited 0 0
What It's About
It's not about
Being skinny
It's not about
Fitting into that dress
For the dance
It's not about
It might be about
The way you look right
Through me
It might be about
The way I look right
Through me
It might be about
But who knows?
It's probably about
The way I want to break
My own face
With my own knuckles
It's probably about
The way I feel sick
When I see myself
It's probably about
The way I want to reach down
Inside myself
And pull everything up
And out
That makes me hate me
It's probably about
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All Your Secrets
Secrets, Secrets
I know all your secrets
I won't tell anyone
About the way your honesty is just another
Hiding place
How your humor and sarcasm
Are ways to keep
Everyone inside while you wait out in the cold
I won't tell them
I can't tell them
I'll never tell them
How you have memories of someone
Who she says you've never met
How the sun hadn't rose quite yet
I won't tell anyone how much you
Can't decide how you feel
About her
I promise
Never to tell anyone
Not even you
All the secrets I know
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My Paper Girl
Oh, you poor, poor paper girl,
You poor paper girl with your
Paper thin skin
Paper thin lips
Paper thin teeth
Paper, paper, thin as paper girl.
Paper thin girl,
Isn't it lovely how you fold yourself just so?
Corner to corner, crease to crease, over and under, and back around again,
Paper girl
Lord knows how I love it
While you twist yourself around me
And whisper, whisper so loudly through your paper thin teeth,
All the colorful paper lies you stuff down my throat.
And, paper thin girl, I wonder if you know,
If you've heard through your paper thin ears,
How much I just want to rip, rip, rip your paper thin self to paper thin bits.
Oh, but my dear paper thin girl,
How sick in the head you are,
To never know how paper thin you are,
To try and lay where you just don't fit, my paper thin girl.
But my dear paper thin child,
My paper thin girl,
My paper thin friend,
My paper thin liar,
And oh, oh, oh how I wish you'd float your paper self into the mouth of some poor paper shredder,
But alas,
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Note to Self: Don't Forget...
Note to self: don't forget.
Don't forget the moments when
Somebody holds you and you just know that even after they let go, they'll still be there
Note to self: don't forget.
Don't forget the feelings of
Falling asleep in the grass and waking up with the sun and someone you love kissing your cheeks
Note to self: don't forget.
Don't forget the memories of
Your very first best-friend, who you whispered to about icky boys and how gross bugs were
Note to self: don't forget.
Don't forget the colours of
Finger-paint and seagull feathers and somebody's deepest secret; buried deep in your pocket
Note to everyone else: you shouldn't forget, either.
:iconforeverislimited:ForeverIsLimited 4 5
The Carousel
Two tickets to ride the carousel
Four to be able to hold someone's hands
Six to make it a party
Round and round, and for a bright smile the conductor will throw in an extra ride
The line was never long
But I always was at the head
Wondering who looked prettier today; the frog or the swan
I begged my mother to let me hold the tickets
And wondered why she always said no
If she wasn't even going to ride
I choose the swan and my cousin choose the frog
The conductor smiled at us
As we stuck our tongues out at each other, and pulled up our noses at the other's mount
And when the music started up and the carousel lurched into motion we kicked out our legs and laughed and laughed
Round and round we went,
Waving and making faces at those who figured they were to grown up to ride
We waved and waved, went round and round
And when we got off
Years and years had gone by
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United States
Favourite photographer: Jim Zuckerman
Favourite cartoon character: Brain from "Pinky & the Brain"
I haven't updated my journal for quite some time-- things have been a little more than a little crazy. But what's a girl to do? Just gotta keep movin' and shakin', I s'ppose.

My family and I have recently been going through a lot of changes; I've been making some not very good decision for quite some time, now. Or had been making some not very good decisions, I suppose is a better way to phrase it. I've spent some time in an Acute Behavioral Unit and am now in an Intensive Outpatient Care unit for an estimated few months. That's certainly not the entire story-- but there's the gist of it. To the people who check my page regularly, I apologize for not updating as often as I used to. Hopefully I'll be doing a lot more writing soon. And I hope you guys continue to read and enjoy my work. I'm really grateful for that.

Thanks to all of you-- you know who you are. :heart:
  • Listening to: Soul Coughing
  • Drinking: Strawberry Watermelon Mio


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IronBloodAika Featured By Owner Jul 5, 2015
Happy Birthday!
IronBloodAika Featured By Owner Jul 5, 2014
Happy Birthday!
IronBloodAika Featured By Owner Jul 5, 2013
Happy Birthday!
DrchemicalX Featured By Owner Apr 8, 2013  Hobbyist Artist
Doesn't she?
TomberDansLaPensee Featured By Owner Sep 5, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
You have so much talent!!!
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