her earrings were heavy, but her heart was light and carefree.
People looked at her in a sad way, as if she needed to look beautiful to feel beautiful.
But really.
She was just happy to be herself.
I remember seeing the earrings and thinking that it would look good on her. The first time I got earrings for my girlfriend, she threw them in my face a week later. The reason: they were not real gold. I was 10, and had taken them from the magazine subscription gift that my grandmother received each month. Double realization shock: they were not real gold ?!
I remember seeing the earrings and thinking that it would look good on her. The first time I got earrings form y girlfriend, she threw them in my face a week later. The reason: they were not real gold. I was 10, and had taken them from the magazine subscription gift that my grandmother received each month.
the blue of her aquamarine earrings always seemed like pools- vast and unknown beneath the initial friendliness of the stones. on the surface, they lay like little oceans, inviting one to jump in, yet deep down yielded a certain danger. somehow identical to the mysterious aura buried beneath the warmth in her eyes. the captivating blue of her dangling earrings matched the wildness in her eyes.
catching light as i walk in, pressing against the side of my face when you wrap your arms around me. you will snap them off in the dark when you kiss up my neck and suck on my earlobe
I never did want them. They never really appealed to me, they seemed like such a hassle, not to mention the extra money spent and wasted because of these silly accessories! No one would even be able to see them on my head, with my hair so long and drooping over my face. It would be pointless. But mother’s constant harassment (unbeknownst her) was getting cumbersome. Once shouldn’t do any harm. Just for her, I don’t really care about these flimsy things. I’m seated, the employee examines my ears and points out some tiny details none of us are going to care to remember within an hour. They pull out some mechanical contraption and load it with some fake ruby studded earrings, and I feel a light pinch in my ear. I wince a bit, not enough for it to matter. I reflect on the younger girl who left crying in her mother’s arms after her procedure was finished. They finish with the other ear. I flash a camera perfect smile and offer a thanks, commenting on how simple the process is.
I don’t care.
The employee instructs my mother and I how to care for my newly pierced ears so that they don’t get infected. How tedious, I don’t care for this. She escorts us to the counter to pay for the product and the procedure. What a waste of money. She wishes us a nice day, and we turn to leave like normal customers with little fuss or care. My mother turns to me with a big, prideful grin at her two percent more beautiful daughter. “Are you happy now?” She asks, puckering her lips and holding her head up high.
“Yeah, they’re pretty cool.” I reply with a sheepish grin. I don’t care.
Her pearl drop earrings mesmerized him – the perfect curve of her cheek with the pure, pristine white jewellery seemed to have hypnotic capabilities that he wasn’t aware of. He had never paid attention to women before – just a cursory glance, one that was demanded by Nature and his birthright as a full-blooded male. But this one had caught his attention right the first time when her dupatta whipped across his face when he was cross the road from Forum to Koramangala – a scene straight out of a movie and yet, one that remained with him for a long time to come.
The box made a tinny noise when it hit the table. Its contents hiccupped against metal sides. The earrings were a gift once, an apprentice’s labor before that. Now they were proof of life. Or rather, proof of capture. Life was yet to be determined. That box could just as easily fit an ear next time. Or a pinky finger.
All the men in the room hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
Her earing fell to the hard wood of her armoir as she saw the blood covered man behind her. He raised a dark blaid and swung, chopping her head clean off her neck.
what the fuck
does this have
to do
with anything
incomplete
red yellow blue
silence of the lambs
makers mark boys
telling may die
along a savory mallet
Earrings can come in many forms. I love my dangling earrings as well as the hoop ones. It looks like the ones worn by gypsies.Very exotic looking. Studs are very practical, simple, and elegant.
What a beautiful pair of earring they were. I kept gawking at them lustfully. I looked down at the tag next to it and gasped $ 3,000/-. It was a huge sum. I surely could not afford them.
I feel like something inside is changing. I couldn’t name it exactly, but with it came a new level of awareness and something of a numbness. I stare into the turquoise blue dots that are my earrings, why do I feel like I’ve done this all before even though what happens next is a path I’ve never wander twice exactly, even for all my daily repetitions, this awareness stretches me thin. And grows like a wild root away from me at light speeds. Runs like legs of lightning. Deja vu. Deja vu. Deja vu. I want to snap out of it. Come to. But this ever present surrealist dream is hard to turn from, like the color of turquoise enamel in each of these sterling silver studs. A willful indicator that my choices are my own. Still the numbness grows even as I catalog these experiences with dates and numbers.
She was a hell of a woman. That’s the only way to describe her. Full, curvy hips, glowing olive skin and lots of gold hanging from every part of her body.
earrings are what you wear on your ears. you can wear silver or gold earrings. Some earrings have jem stones or jewels on them. Sometimes earrings can hurt your ears if you sleep on them. Getting your ears pierced can often hurt and sometimes make you bleed.
its funny how we had no idea that the other existed and we led such different and dangerously similar lives. the amount of things we had in common was much less than what we had in differences but our similarities were the kind that made us fall in love when we connected over them. Like our matching gigantic artificial diamond earrings, they made me feel classy and they made you feel like a thug, and that’s all we needed.
He sat there with his overgrown hair and his undergrown smile, waiting for a chance to open up and show all he had to offer. As I gazed into his eyes I brushed a single lock of his curls behind his ear revealing a shiny stud, the kind you get when our ear is pierced for the first time. He quickly saw my surprise at this hidden accessory. “Tequila is not me friend,” he giggled.
poke me with those one more time
the hassle you put me through
is hardly worth the pain
your brass
your gold
silver and more are merely
materials of wont we’re told
she wore her earrings like at any moment someone would steal them. Always grabbing at the bottom beads that dangled. She loved those earrings more than she loved her own mother it seemed. I never saw her without those fucking earrings.
The shell of her ear is all but a solid line of metal; earrings of multiple designs and fashioned from all different – some foreign, some not – materials that clink and clatter whenever she moves her head and Cari wonders idly how the sound, grating as it is to her own senses, doesn’t drive the other woman mad, especially with the clatter being that much closer to her eardrum.
It’s a teardrop.
The metal light refracts off of her neck,
and it disguises
the wrinkles
and lengthens
the smile.
All whilst drawing the eye
away from the very face,
it is meant to accent.
Its a teardrop.
The metal light refracts off of her neck,
and it disguises
the wrinkles
and lengthens
the smile.
All whilst drawing the eye
away from the very face,
it is meant to accent.
“Earrings?!” Marian let out an exasperated sigh. With head in hand she walked over to the liquor cabinet, skillfully poured herself a scotch and gazed distantly out the lace curtained window as she gently sipped her drink.
I forgot to tell Mr. R that his sister has to take off those cheap earrings that the daughter of the nurse gave to her. I don’t know what they were thinking, giving her cheap jewelry. It’s already turned black and when I told her she was in denial. So I have to tell him first thing tomorrow so he can get her to put good earrings back on her ears.
they dangled as smoothly and easily as liquid mercury or bromine off of her ears from the little holes that had been marked there since childhood. everyone could see them captivatedly, and it was almost as if an entire face could fit through the hoops that complimented her dress so elegantly.
When I was a little girl, I always saw my mom wear the same pair of silver hoop earrings. She would get dressed in her nice black pants, a fancy blouse and some black heels. She would apply her make up, only
I love to wear earrings. It’s important to match your outfit with what goes on your ears. I do not have that many, but if I had more money, I would definitey go to Francesca’s and buy more.
They said take them off. “Take them off!” he shouted in my ear. My earrings were the last bequeathed item I had from my mother, and now I was stripped of everything.
She pulled off her earrings and dropped them on the bedside table. They had been a present from him, for her birthday, back when they had just started dating, and he was still trying to impress her. She wondered if she would ever wear them again.
They said take them off. “Take them off!” he shouted in my ear. My earrings were the last bequeathed item I had from my mother and now I was stripped of everything.
(he’d say “for the most part” with the shakiest breath, like the words themselves didn’t believe their existence when they’d sauntered their way out his mouth. like he himself didn’t shake when he’d see pieces of her lying where they’d laid before – a dress, a sock, a dogeared book from their summers tucked into each others’ bookshelves.)
He walked into the room and he saw her sitting at the dressing table. she had the jewelry box open and had every piece of jewelry out on it. She kept put one piece on after another. She grabbed the clip on earrings and tried to get them on, when she noticed him in the mirror looking at her. She turned and said Dad can you help me get these on. He chuckled when she turned around, not only has she put on all her mothers jewels, but also all her makeup. He went over to the dressing table and he helped her put them on and told her how beautiful she was and how much like her mommy she looked. Then he took a selfie with her, quickly uploading it and sending if off to his wife, who was in a business meeting.
Cyra rarely wore earrings or other jewelry, but that day she all but glittered in borrowed finery. It was a rare day; a day where they could forget the troubles in the city and make merry. Friends, family, everyone had come to celebrate.
My earrings? Oh, they weren’t much, really. Just an old heirloom from a dear, dear relative of mine. Quite the socialite. Couldn’t live without even the cheapest of costume jewelry.
She left these for me, and only these. Her brother got everything else. It just so happens that he happens to be on his deathbed. And I, for one, would prefer to see bequeathed to me a little more than just fair diamonds in my lobes…
They jangled when she walked, like cowboy spurs, and fell almost to the tops of her shoulders, much longer than her hair. They were mismatched: one was a chain of silver-painted feathers, and the other was a pair of long swords.
All it took was a new pair of earrings for her anger to subside. Looking back on it, everything about the fight seemed so utterly stupid – but then again, so did this solution. The two started to see there was a deeper problem buried within their relationship. They would just have to figure it out, one way or another. Her suggestion was that they went out to dinner – and that’s exactly what they did, the new pair of earrings dangling precariously from her ears.
Her two silver earrings were as long as my pinky finger, swinging above her shoulders like halos to a sitting devil and angel. She smiled at me with thin painted lips, motioning for me to lean closer to her. I smelled rosemary in her hair.
“You wad!” The boy swore, “How the hell did you do that?”
His best friend was going through a sever bad boy stage and had managed to pierce his ears without any help, resulting in puss-filled holes and a sneaky midnight phone call.
her earrings were heavy, but her heart was light and carefree.
People looked at her in a sad way, as if she needed to look beautiful to feel beautiful.
But really.
She was just happy to be herself.
I remember seeing the earrings and thinking that it would look good on her. The first time I got earrings for my girlfriend, she threw them in my face a week later. The reason: they were not real gold. I was 10, and had taken them from the magazine subscription gift that my grandmother received each month. Double realization shock: they were not real gold ?!
I remember seeing the earrings and thinking that it would look good on her. The first time I got earrings form y girlfriend, she threw them in my face a week later. The reason: they were not real gold. I was 10, and had taken them from the magazine subscription gift that my grandmother received each month.
it is reaally difficult for some one of my age to buy jewelery . my love for her was greater than my fear to visit this shop b
the blue of her aquamarine earrings always seemed like pools- vast and unknown beneath the initial friendliness of the stones. on the surface, they lay like little oceans, inviting one to jump in, yet deep down yielded a certain danger. somehow identical to the mysterious aura buried beneath the warmth in her eyes. the captivating blue of her dangling earrings matched the wildness in her eyes.
catching light as i walk in, pressing against the side of my face when you wrap your arms around me. you will snap them off in the dark when you kiss up my neck and suck on my earlobe
I never did want them. They never really appealed to me, they seemed like such a hassle, not to mention the extra money spent and wasted because of these silly accessories! No one would even be able to see them on my head, with my hair so long and drooping over my face. It would be pointless. But mother’s constant harassment (unbeknownst her) was getting cumbersome. Once shouldn’t do any harm. Just for her, I don’t really care about these flimsy things. I’m seated, the employee examines my ears and points out some tiny details none of us are going to care to remember within an hour. They pull out some mechanical contraption and load it with some fake ruby studded earrings, and I feel a light pinch in my ear. I wince a bit, not enough for it to matter. I reflect on the younger girl who left crying in her mother’s arms after her procedure was finished. They finish with the other ear. I flash a camera perfect smile and offer a thanks, commenting on how simple the process is.
I don’t care.
The employee instructs my mother and I how to care for my newly pierced ears so that they don’t get infected. How tedious, I don’t care for this. She escorts us to the counter to pay for the product and the procedure. What a waste of money. She wishes us a nice day, and we turn to leave like normal customers with little fuss or care. My mother turns to me with a big, prideful grin at her two percent more beautiful daughter. “Are you happy now?” She asks, puckering her lips and holding her head up high.
“Yeah, they’re pretty cool.” I reply with a sheepish grin. I don’t care.
Her pearl drop earrings mesmerized him – the perfect curve of her cheek with the pure, pristine white jewellery seemed to have hypnotic capabilities that he wasn’t aware of. He had never paid attention to women before – just a cursory glance, one that was demanded by Nature and his birthright as a full-blooded male. But this one had caught his attention right the first time when her dupatta whipped across his face when he was cross the road from Forum to Koramangala – a scene straight out of a movie and yet, one that remained with him for a long time to come.
The box made a tinny noise when it hit the table. Its contents hiccupped against metal sides. The earrings were a gift once, an apprentice’s labor before that. Now they were proof of life. Or rather, proof of capture. Life was yet to be determined. That box could just as easily fit an ear next time. Or a pinky finger.
All the men in the room hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
Her earing fell to the hard wood of her armoir as she saw the blood covered man behind her. He raised a dark blaid and swung, chopping her head clean off her neck.
what the fuck
does this have
to do
with anything
incomplete
red yellow blue
silence of the lambs
makers mark boys
telling may die
along a savory mallet
Earrings can come in many forms. I love my dangling earrings as well as the hoop ones. It looks like the ones worn by gypsies.Very exotic looking. Studs are very practical, simple, and elegant.
What a beautiful pair of earring they were. I kept gawking at them lustfully. I looked down at the tag next to it and gasped $ 3,000/-. It was a huge sum. I surely could not afford them.
I feel like something inside is changing. I couldn’t name it exactly, but with it came a new level of awareness and something of a numbness. I stare into the turquoise blue dots that are my earrings, why do I feel like I’ve done this all before even though what happens next is a path I’ve never wander twice exactly, even for all my daily repetitions, this awareness stretches me thin. And grows like a wild root away from me at light speeds. Runs like legs of lightning. Deja vu. Deja vu. Deja vu. I want to snap out of it. Come to. But this ever present surrealist dream is hard to turn from, like the color of turquoise enamel in each of these sterling silver studs. A willful indicator that my choices are my own. Still the numbness grows even as I catalog these experiences with dates and numbers.
She was a hell of a woman. That’s the only way to describe her. Full, curvy hips, glowing olive skin and lots of gold hanging from every part of her body.
earrings are what you wear on your ears. you can wear silver or gold earrings. Some earrings have jem stones or jewels on them. Sometimes earrings can hurt your ears if you sleep on them. Getting your ears pierced can often hurt and sometimes make you bleed.
its funny how we had no idea that the other existed and we led such different and dangerously similar lives. the amount of things we had in common was much less than what we had in differences but our similarities were the kind that made us fall in love when we connected over them. Like our matching gigantic artificial diamond earrings, they made me feel classy and they made you feel like a thug, and that’s all we needed.
Standing at the sink, it’s hard
to listen to you sometimes,
gritting my teeth, talking,
the only thing sinking in
your cheap, gold earrings.
He sat there with his overgrown hair and his undergrown smile, waiting for a chance to open up and show all he had to offer. As I gazed into his eyes I brushed a single lock of his curls behind his ear revealing a shiny stud, the kind you get when our ear is pierced for the first time. He quickly saw my surprise at this hidden accessory. “Tequila is not me friend,” he giggled.
poke me with those one more time
the hassle you put me through
is hardly worth the pain
your brass
your gold
silver and more are merely
materials of wont we’re told
she wore her earrings like at any moment someone would steal them. Always grabbing at the bottom beads that dangled. She loved those earrings more than she loved her own mother it seemed. I never saw her without those fucking earrings.
The shell of her ear is all but a solid line of metal; earrings of multiple designs and fashioned from all different – some foreign, some not – materials that clink and clatter whenever she moves her head and Cari wonders idly how the sound, grating as it is to her own senses, doesn’t drive the other woman mad, especially with the clatter being that much closer to her eardrum.
It’s a teardrop.
The metal light refracts off of her neck,
and it disguises
the wrinkles
and lengthens
the smile.
All whilst drawing the eye
away from the very face,
it is meant to accent.
Its a teardrop.
The metal light refracts off of her neck,
and it disguises
the wrinkles
and lengthens
the smile.
All whilst drawing the eye
away from the very face,
it is meant to accent.
“Earrings?!” Marian let out an exasperated sigh. With head in hand she walked over to the liquor cabinet, skillfully poured herself a scotch and gazed distantly out the lace curtained window as she gently sipped her drink.
I forgot to tell Mr. R that his sister has to take off those cheap earrings that the daughter of the nurse gave to her. I don’t know what they were thinking, giving her cheap jewelry. It’s already turned black and when I told her she was in denial. So I have to tell him first thing tomorrow so he can get her to put good earrings back on her ears.
they dangled as smoothly and easily as liquid mercury or bromine off of her ears from the little holes that had been marked there since childhood. everyone could see them captivatedly, and it was almost as if an entire face could fit through the hoops that complimented her dress so elegantly.
When I was a little girl, I always saw my mom wear the same pair of silver hoop earrings. She would get dressed in her nice black pants, a fancy blouse and some black heels. She would apply her make up, only
I love to wear earrings. It’s important to match your outfit with what goes on your ears. I do not have that many, but if I had more money, I would definitey go to Francesca’s and buy more.
They said take them off. “Take them off!” he shouted in my ear. My earrings were the last bequeathed item I had from my mother, and now I was stripped of everything.
She pulled off her earrings and dropped them on the bedside table. They had been a present from him, for her birthday, back when they had just started dating, and he was still trying to impress her. She wondered if she would ever wear them again.
They said take them off. “Take them off!” he shouted in my ear. My earrings were the last bequeathed item I had from my mother and now I was stripped of everything.
he was over her, for the most part.
(he’d say “for the most part” with the shakiest breath, like the words themselves didn’t believe their existence when they’d sauntered their way out his mouth. like he himself didn’t shake when he’d see pieces of her lying where they’d laid before – a dress, a sock, a dogeared book from their summers tucked into each others’ bookshelves.)
today it was an earring.
He walked into the room and he saw her sitting at the dressing table. she had the jewelry box open and had every piece of jewelry out on it. She kept put one piece on after another. She grabbed the clip on earrings and tried to get them on, when she noticed him in the mirror looking at her. She turned and said Dad can you help me get these on. He chuckled when she turned around, not only has she put on all her mothers jewels, but also all her makeup. He went over to the dressing table and he helped her put them on and told her how beautiful she was and how much like her mommy she looked. Then he took a selfie with her, quickly uploading it and sending if off to his wife, who was in a business meeting.
Cyra rarely wore earrings or other jewelry, but that day she all but glittered in borrowed finery. It was a rare day; a day where they could forget the troubles in the city and make merry. Friends, family, everyone had come to celebrate.
My earrings? Oh, they weren’t much, really. Just an old heirloom from a dear, dear relative of mine. Quite the socialite. Couldn’t live without even the cheapest of costume jewelry.
She left these for me, and only these. Her brother got everything else. It just so happens that he happens to be on his deathbed. And I, for one, would prefer to see bequeathed to me a little more than just fair diamonds in my lobes…
They jangled when she walked, like cowboy spurs, and fell almost to the tops of her shoulders, much longer than her hair. They were mismatched: one was a chain of silver-painted feathers, and the other was a pair of long swords.
All it took was a new pair of earrings for her anger to subside. Looking back on it, everything about the fight seemed so utterly stupid – but then again, so did this solution. The two started to see there was a deeper problem buried within their relationship. They would just have to figure it out, one way or another. Her suggestion was that they went out to dinner – and that’s exactly what they did, the new pair of earrings dangling precariously from her ears.
Her two silver earrings were as long as my pinky finger, swinging above her shoulders like halos to a sitting devil and angel. She smiled at me with thin painted lips, motioning for me to lean closer to her. I smelled rosemary in her hair.
“You wad!” The boy swore, “How the hell did you do that?”
His best friend was going through a sever bad boy stage and had managed to pierce his ears without any help, resulting in puss-filled holes and a sneaky midnight phone call.