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Destiny

I've been writing since I was young and I love to read! I wire a lot of free verse poems and I mostly am interested in romance and mystery as well as some horror once in awhile. I hope y'all enjoy my work :)

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  • 5 posts
  • Female
  • 01-01-70
  • Living in United Kingdom

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Destiny
Translate   12 years ago

Loneliness consumes my heart dear, Why aren't you here dear, Why don't you answer me, love, I'm like an open book, love, Come fill my desires honey, I don't want to be alone honey, It makes no sense dear, Can't you just be here dear, Get rid of all my fears, love, Make all the pain disappear, love, I need to escape honey, Come save me from the rain honey, Be my James Dean dear, Don't ever stop the lovin dear.

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    Destiny profile picture
    Destiny
    Translate   12 years ago

    Autumn Autumn seems to claim your liking. The colors of our Mother’s offspring dances by a stream, Slightly bending for the soft reflecting waves. Sharp edged rocks wade in the rim of the flow. Radiance emanating through the bold oranges And easy reds, gently contorting into green and yellow. The creek that once was your playground, warped into A stunning art of His creation. Capture the gentle waves that licked and rocked Your childlike body. Remember when it tipped you over and you Submerged under its cradling warmth. Capture the trees that you and childhood friends Scaled and enjoyed juvenile games. Remember when the twisting hues of nature’s pallet Carefully released you into the water.

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    Nat

    This is beautiful 💛 Welcome to Opuss
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    Destiny

    @natalee thank you!! I really appreciate it.
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      Destiny
      Translate   12 years ago

      It Had to Be Done It had to be done. All my focus was aimed at the clear vase containing a few soft pink orchids. I memorized every detail of the flower. The outline was white and the middle was deep rose and white. I smiled weakly at the color, noticing that it perfectly matched the color of the scarf I was wearing. The flowers were standing strong inside the vase, indicating that they were fresh. ​The bell on the door of the café chimed and I stopped breathing. It had to be done. A gaunt man came in and I let go of my breath. His curly brown hair was matted on top of his head. He looked worn when he stood in line and took off his glasses. He rubbed his eyes and stood with his back hunched over. I sighed and turned my attention back to the pretty orchids. The anticipation was making me shaky and fear overwhelmed me each time that stupid bell chimed. My impatience was growing more and more palpable, that I could tell from the sympathetic older woman at the table in front of me. But still, it had to be done. ​I let myself relax, tuning in to other worries that were floating around in my brain. I had to continue writing my research paper for history that was due in a few days. I pushed that aside and thought of my Philosophy class. My teacher was excellent, one of the best I ever had. And he liked me too. He introduced me to books he thought I might enjoy and we discussed them as I finished. Then my mind wandered to the real issue, the big one, and my stomach lurched. The bell chimed and I froze. Fear completely took over me and I silently winced as his tall, lean body slowly made its way to my table. It had to be done. I kept my gaze on the orchids, feeling the emotions drifting off of him. He sank into the chair across from me, sitting with his legs spread, his body slouched down, and his arms crossed. At that moment, he didn’t seem welcoming. He didn’t seem like the guy I had kissed many times before, the guy I had shared thoughts and fears with, and the guy I had known for years. Right now, his muscles tense, and his arms crossed, didn’t seem like the arms that have held me countless times in the past. All at once, I felt vulnerable, scared, and helpless. My usual confidence was trampled upon by his presence. “Did you decide yet?” He asked me. I forced myself to look into his eyes. His soft green eyes were distant, but mixed with anger and anxiety. I opened my mouth to answer, hoping I wouldn’t stutter. “Yes and my decision hasn’t changed.” He nodded as if I were confirming something. I knew he loved me, despite his childish behavior. What then was the source of his anger? I thought he would be elated. I put my poker face on, bracing myself for the worst. “Well I don’t agree with you.” He said through clenched teeth. I nodded, feeling my throat tighten and body beginning to tense. “I know you don’t, but can we come up with a compromise? It doesn’t have to end badly, Justin, I promise.” He rolled his eyes and I knew he was going to keep up the fight. “Please…it’ll be okay.” My voice didn’t come out strong like I wanted it too, in fact, I sounded like a pleading child, begging for the candy at the checkout counter. This was way more serious than that juvenile dilemma. Before Justin could say anymore, the waiter strode up to our table and smiled genuinely at us. Justin looked at him with palpable annoyance and his eyes mirrored those of a lion filled with rage. My heart raced in my tight chest. Never have I seen my sweet Justin so angry about anything. I had hoped he’d feel the opposite about this. “Can I get you some more water ma’am?” I nodded, never shifting my eyes from Justin’s. He stared the vase of orchids down, maybe trying to calm himself down, I prayed. “Okay, how about you sir?” The young waiter asked Justin. I felt bad for the young man who couldn’t be more than sixteen. He looked so energetic and free spirited, probably having no clue what challenges #life would throw at him as he grew older. I remember feeling that way and now I wish I was still that ignorant young girl. “I’ll have water.” The waiter grinned and said, “Alright guys, I’ll be back.” He turned his back to leave. I took a sip of water, still studying Justin’s face and feeling as though he was rejecting me, sending me back into the sea of fish. Just another lonely fish in the big blue. “Talk to me, Justin.” I urged. He sighed, letting out a considerable amount of air. He looked up at me, all rage lost from those beautiful green eyes. I found a new emotion coating them. It was pain, something I recognized from having seen in my own eyes. When I first told him and he walked out of my front door, slamming it shut hard. I had cried. The small, oval mirror in my blue bathroom revealed the puffiness in them. A closer look would reveal immense pain and loss stumbling in my brown eyes. I reached over the table to put my hand delicately over his. His hand was warm like it had always been. He didn’t move to reject my gesture, but he didn’t squeeze my hand for reassurance either. I closed my eyes, to wishing this moment would disappear and I thought about the years Justin and I had spent together. I thought of the trust we had gained from each other. Now, it seemed all fake and that made my eyes misty. I blinked a few times, willing myself to not cry. I had always been the type of person to be strong and to look the part even if I didn’t necessarily feel it. Right now, I don’t even think I was looking the part. “Tell me everything will be alright, Justin. Tell me we will walk out of here and continue our lives together.” I whispered across the table. He snatched his hand away and shook his hand wildly. He rose to his feet. “I’m in college, Rose! I’m not dropping out for you. I’m not dropping out so we can go around playing house!” He shouted. People in the café turned to watch us. My cheeks grew pink, but the anger I felt outweighed my embarrassment. “I’m in college too, Justin! I don’t want to give that up either, but I love you! And I thought you loved me too…” This time I didn’t blink, I just let the first few tears stroll slowly down my cheeks. Justin never liked seeing me cry. He said it made him hurt on the inside too. He swiftly sat back down and rubbed his eyes. He wasn’t sleeping enough, I could tell. I had to admit, I wasn’t sleeping much either these days. “I’m sorry, Rose.” He said. A spark of hope began surfacing in my fragile heart. “Are you going to stay?” I breathed. He sat still for a moment as if he were thinking. I waited for him to respond, feeling the anxiety lying heavy on me. Finally, he leaned in and said, ​“Stay strong, Rose. I know you will be okay. Stay in college and become the woman you’ve always wanted to be…” He started to rise from his seat and I found myself standing too. “Without me.” He finished. My mouth hung open and I felt a shatter in my chest that took my breath away. Tears started to form at my waterline and spill simultaneously as if this moment had been rehearsed. Justin came around to my side of the table. He cupped my face in his strong hands and kissed my tears. Then he bent down to whisper in my ear, “Don’t cry, please.” He then stood back to look at me one more time. He kissed my forehead before turning and walking away. I gaped at him, unaware of what was really happening, not believing that this was the end. He never turned back as he opened the door and the bell chimed. I stood frozen as I watched him cross the street to get to his car. Rain started coming down hard, but he seemed to take no notice of it. His t-shirt was soaked in seconds. He unlocked his truck, jumped in, and slowly pulled away. He was gone before I could register it.

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        Destiny profile picture
        Destiny
        Translate   12 years ago

        One of Us I felt in my soul, in my heart, a desire to break free, a desire to pursue what I wanted. What I wanted was simple, but in this simplicity there was confusion, pain, even challenges and complications. Doesn’t sound so simple anymore, huh? But in my mind, where the smell of the ocean invaded my nostrils and the tickle of the ocean breeze made my skin crawl, stood my simplicity, my love. I made quick steps now, hurrying to get to him. One foot in front of the other at a steady pace. ​Getting so close made Goosebumps rise and dance on my skin. My spring dress flowed softly around me, being carried and dropped gently by the careful wind. I pictured being on a beach. I pictured seeing out in the distance my love swimming gracefully through the water. I’d run into the water, fully clothed, not wanting to wait another moment until I reached his embrace. Somehow in my beautiful daydream, I see my mother. I see her out in the water behind him. He’s grinning at me, waving for me to join him. In my throat I feel the words wanting to burst out. She’s going to drown him. ​I shake my head roughly, to rid myself of the foolish dream. Then, I sigh because it’s not as foolish as I would like to believe. My mother would do that if she ever got the chance. She hated Jonathan. She hated him more than anything. She would dream and in the morning she would tell me at the breakfast table about her absurd dreams. Her dreams of murdering him. I would ignore her silly mind tricks. I knew what she dreamt of. Money. It’s a poison. It’s a lust. It’s a desire. It’s a need. And it’s something that consumes my mother. It consumes her thoughts, her dreams, her #life, her heart. ​When I was young, my mother used to wake me in the early mornings. I’d rise from my princess bed and sit at my mini vanity. She’d retrieve my diamond studded hair brush from one of the drawers to brush my hair. ​“I’m making you pretty. That way you will one day be pretty enough to marry a very handsome man.” She’d say. I would smile and giggle and feel as if she were doing me a favor. Now I know she was making me pretty enough to marry a rich man, not necessarily a handsome one. When I grew older, primarily in my adolescent years, she would continue brushing my hair at the vanity and she would also put all sorts of makeup on my face that I didn’t like. ​“But it’s supposed to make you even prettier.” She said whenever I protested. She never let me cut my hair even when all the other girls had short bobs. They were in style then, but every time I’d ask she snap at me. ​“Men don’t like women with short hair. If you cut your blonde hair, I’ll shave your head.” She was obsessed with the idea that men liked women with long blonde hair. She was so obsessed with this that when I became thirteen, she dyed my hair blonde. My original color was a dark chocolate brown. I was satisfied with that hair, mostly because it mirrored my father’s. My father died when I was twelve. He was very wealthy and I can only guess why my mother married him. I was close to my father even though he was rarely home. This didn’t bother my mother. I don’t think she was even in love with him and his absence did nothing to her, whereas the absence of Jonathan always broke my spirit. Aside from being money hungry, this was another thing about my mother I couldn’t stand. ​I believed my grandmother, now deceased, also did this to my mother, pushed her to marry a man of wealth. I also believe, from seeing photos of my mother when she was younger, that my grandmother dyed my mother’s hair blonde as well. This realization made it known to me that this was something of a tradition, but I vowed I’d break the tradition. I vowed with my whole heart that if I ever had a daughter, I’d make sure she fell in love with a man of her choice and I’d let her do whatever she wanted to her hair, everything but dying it blonde. It’s a sick tradition. ​I start when my feet touch warm, soft sand. I lean down to remove my sandals and carry them with me as I walk down the beach. I see Jon lying on a woolen blanket, probably the one his mother made. He has a basket beside him and in his hands lies his notebook. He writes all kinds of things in there. The only thing I was allowed to see was a #poem dedicated to me, but that was all. He keeps that very private. And I respect it. As I approach closer, he looks up and at the sight of me the corners of his mouth turn up in his unique smile. Everything about Jon is very unique; it might be why I fell in love with him. I’ve been so used to the same men. The ones my mother introduces to me are never different. They bore me. ​The most unique thing about him may be his eyes. I had never seen eyes like his before, gray and silvery with flecks of deep brown. ​“What are you writing?” I say when my feet are positioned at the edge of blanket. He grins and slams his notebook shut. He rises and picks me up from my feet. I giggle like I did when I was a child. ​“I’m not writing anything.” He whispers. I raise an eyebrow and give him a hard look. ​“Oh really?” He smiles and shakes his head. ​“Nothing you need to see, my love.” ​We sit on the woolen blanket, sharing a loaf of bread his mother hand baked and some cheese that his sister made from her goat. Jon’s family isn’t rich. In fact, they are fairly poor. They survive on what his mother bakes and what his sister milks from the goat. Jon also has a job. He’s a writer for the town’s newspaper, but they pay him very little for the great work he does. Jon’s father skipped town a few years ago, long before I even met Jon. ​As the sun began to set, we sit on the blanket, hand in hand, looking out into the ocean. The waves were calm and when they crashed, they would touch our feet. The tide was rising and we only had a few more moments until it would consume the blanket. But we held our ground, waiting until the sun set before traveling up the beach to our homes. The ocean was like a sweet lull, I could fall asleep in an instant on Jon’s chest because it is so calming. ​When the sun finally set, we gathered our belongings and headed home. Jon knew not to walk me home, my mother wouldn’t have it. ​“I always worry about you though; it isn’t safe for a young, beautiful woman like you to walk around town at night.” He’d say. I agreed with him, but it was worth the risk. I couldn’t let my mother know I’m still seeing him. Whenever she asks where I’ve been, I say I’m with Neal. This brightens her mood and she gushes about what Neal has and how big his house is. I just roll my eyes and pretend like I care. Neal is one of the wealthiest men in our town and my mother would do anything for me to marry him. When my father died, my mother realized she wasn’t put in his will, in fact he hadn’t made one at all so all his belongings and money went elsewhere. This devastated my mother and since then she’s been “preparing me for marriage”. I could never marry Neal though, I do not love him. I can only see myself with Jonathan…forever. ​When I enter the door I find my mother waiting with Neal right beside her. My heart jumps around and at once my nerves get the best of me. ​“Mother, Neal!” I say. My mother is glaring at me, eyes filled with suspicion. Neal stares at the floor, remaining silent. ​“Where have you been? You cannot tell me you have been with Neal. I see you have not.” She nods her head towards Neal. I slip off my sandals and place them off to the side before replying. ​“I have not been with Neal mother. I was out looking for a job.” I say from the top of my head. Now her eyebrows rise. ​“Looking for a job?” She repeats. I nod nonchalantly. She crosses her arms in front of her chest and continues to glare at me. ​“I thought that if I could make some money, I wouldn’t have to get married.” Neal looks up now but I don’t catch his eyes. ​“Wouldn’t have to get married?” She spats. I nod again, nonchalantly. My mother, though she is a few inches shorter, manages to reach my face with her open hand. The force is so hard, so unexpected, I fall backward, landing on my bottom. She hovers over me, a finger pointed at my face. Her own face is hard and mean and I can see the money lust in her eyes. ​“You will get married, Elizabeth. Neal has asked for my permission and I have given him my seal of approval and so I highly suggest you get yourself up off this floor and accept his proposal as well.” My face falls and I want to scream. I want to beg for more time. If I could have more time, I could find Jon at his mother’s house and we could runaway together. Now, it’s too late and I feel my heart collapse in my chest and feel my spirit breaking. ​I stand slowly, smooth my dress out, and take Neal’s hand. I mechanically kiss his cheek and to my mother’s deepest satisfaction, I accept his proposal. ​On my wedding day, I wear a frown, on my honeymoon, I wear a frown, everyday being Neal’s wife causes me to wear a frown. My heart is bleeding and the sadness is too much to bear. My mother is more than happy, though, with her silver, her diamonds, and her gold. Every day she asks me when I shall conceive a child. The thought sends me into a deep #depression. I will never have Neal’s child. After I married Neal, Jonathan never wrote me, never came to see me, and I knew he was broken too. I feared he would take his own #life, but I knew Jon wasn’t the type to succumb to that. He was stronger than I ever was. I knew he’d find a way to be with me again. ​But as the days, weeks, and months began passing, I started losing hope. I started feeling as if he were never coming for me. Like he had given up. So one day when I cannot bear the pain any longer I walk the distance to his mother’s house where I know he’ll be typing his work. I approach the red door and knock. ​“Elizabeth.” Jon looks down at me, clearly surprised. I smile weakly, perhaps my first attempt at a smile since I accepted Neal’s proposal. Jon didn’t smile. ​“Oh, Jon. I thought you would come for me. I thought we would runaway together! But you never came! Why Jon?” I was crying in my hands when led me into the house. He sat me down at his table and rubbed my back. ​“You’re a married woman now Elizabeth. You don’t have time for the poor.” His reply sounded like an accusation, as if I wanted things this way. I rose to my feet and gave him a dirty look. ​“You think I want to be married to that man? I don’t want to cook for him, to clean for him, to be his wife! My mother asks me of children! Of children, Jon! Can you imagine? No, I do not want children with that man, I won’t have it! I won’t!” Again, I cannot stop the tears from emerging. He’s at my side in an instant. He apologizes and sympathizes, promising he’ll find a way. I leave at dusk and when I arrive home, Neal is still gone at work. I lie in my expensive bed, made of the finest wood, and cry. I have never felt so alone. ​The next morning I am awakened by Neal. He is angry and I have never seen him angry before. He shakes me until I convince him I am awake. ​“Jonathan is it?” He yells. I am still sleepy and as I rub my eyes, I realize Jon may be in danger. I stand to face Neal. ​“What do you mean?” Neal replies with a hard slap to my face with the back of his hand. I fall on the bed. It stings, but I don’t show him pain. ​“You’re crazy! If you mean to ask me if I had an affair with Jon, I will have you know I gave him up for you! Did I want to? No!” I scream. He picks me up by my nightgown’s collar and I can feel his hot breath of my face. I have the urge to cringe, but I’m too afraid to set him off once again. I always thought Neal was the quiet shy type, but now I really see him for who he is. A monster. A player in my mother’s games. ​“He came here this morning. He was at the door when I arrived home. Tell me, Elizabeth, was he not here to “rescue” you?” I want to bite my lip because I know he’s dead on, but I just shake my head. ​“No, honey, I’m sure he’s here to bring us a wedding gift.” I fail at attempting a smile. He retrieves something from our bedside table. ​“This is a wedding gift?” He waves it in my face and releases my nightgown’s collar when I take it from him. I sit on the bed and stare at it. I’ve seen it a hundred times in hands that are so familiar to me. ​“He’s not writing anything. Nothing for me to see…” My voice trails off as I caress the hard surface of the cover. I’m angry now because his notebook was in the rough hands of my husband. The word makes me want to vomit on Neal’s shoes. ​“What did you say?” Neal asks. I shake my head and tuck it under my pillow for later examination. ​“Where is he?” I demand. Neal looks at me and grins. ​“I had a few men take care of him.” A lump in my throat forms and I barely manage to get out, “What?” Neal takes a stray blonde hair and tucks it under my ear. He then leans down to whisper in my ear, ​“What I mean is he won’t ever be coming at our door.” I push Neal’s chest and run down the grand stairs only to hear the sound of two gun shots. ​I never went to Jon’s funeral. I wanted for months to go to his family and apologize for my husband. I never got the courage until months later when I was far too pregnant to make the journey to his mother’s house. When my baby girl, Ashley was born, my mother hovered over her, ready to prepare her for marriage. In my condition, I couldn’t fight for her, no matter how much I wanted her #life to be better than mine, even though I vowed to never let it happen. But I was too far gone and too damaged by my mother’s tricks and games. So I succumbed to my mother and Ashley grew up to be one of us.

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          Destiny profile picture
          Destiny
          Translate   12 years ago

          My Father The abyss breaths in the dark depths alone; Disguising itself to seem inviting. The song it sings is that of a groan. The mind contemplates but it is fighting; The trapeze is waiting for your loose feet. Trepidation tightens your shaking fists; The snicker from the gap shows you’ve been beat; The blinding blackness targets and persists. Now it consumes any light of valor left. Under overcast skies I hear Him plead. On my knees He takes my soul like a theft; Awkward hands pray in silence ‘til they bleed. My Father comforts my aching, lost soul; And He assists in patching up the hole.

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