I wear an earring in each ear because they complement my beautiful face. I am a really pretty girl. But once I add the adornment of an earring, I am absolutely stunning!
Her count acne was all I had to see to know she was not in a good place. Yesterday was the one year mark since she buried her only child. She had walked away from her faith and her family and was swallowed up by grief. I debated on whether I should even walk up to her, not sure what to say. I did know that if I were in her shoes I would have responded to my lose the same way. With a little fear I decided to make the move. As I approached her she saw me and we made eye contact. The tears in both our eyes stared to flow as we grabbed eachother and cried for what seemed like forever. No words needed to be said for the drops down our face communicated both our hearts. I had missed my friend and I had missed her touch.
He came back with a necklace made of what looked like organized but jagged quartz that’d scratch a woman’s chest and throat, a slender sliver watch that took more than a few moments to unclasp, and a multitude of earrings, some of which matched and some that didn’t. He’d grabbed a handful and kept moving, which is paramount. Besides, he thought, even if he didn’t have a bunch of matching earrings, he still had what he’d wanted to steal from that house ever since the old couple moved across the street from him a year ago, leaning against his brick fireplace.
Not bad, right? Next time, if I remember, I’m gonna link the next word to this one.
Her earrings were fascinating to me. Every time she moved they swayed with her body, bouncing off her neck. I’d never seen such pure brilliance and the idea of them boggled my mind. Why would someone do that? I kept reaching up, touching my own virgin lopes, wondering what it would feel like.
I wondered if Nathaniel had loved her earrings as much as he had loved her. And what he would think if I were to puncture my own ears for the sake of vanity.
The earring was not only beautiful, it was full of meaning as well. There was something special about it all, but the significance was far beyond even this. The earring was magical, but no one would know until it was too late.
There was only one earring in the box. I knew there had been another the last time I looked but hey when you have three little granddaughters in the house who’se to know who stole what? I asked of course, you would wouldn’t you, and brought forth a chorus of “It wasn’t me”‘s and then floods of tears. I didn’t really care about the earring since it was only cheap plastic. Well it did have a history of sorts. I always buy mysef earrings when I visit a new place and these had been purchased in Portugal the first and only time I’d been there.
i had my ears pierced and was very happy about that. until then i wore clip-ons, and i have no idea where they have gone. they’ve just gone out of sight. instead i enjoy wearing earrings that go through my ear robes.
Ryan sends her earrings for her birthday the winter after he leaves. No note, no card, just earrings. They arrive right on time, the first present she opens because the package is hand delivered that morning. They’re beautiful, handmade from California. She can’t even bring herself to wear them. She wraps them in the delicate tissue paper they were packaged in and sticks them in the drawer under her bras. She doesn’t find them again until she’s packing her things to move to her new apartment.
She has one earring, a green one. She fingers the jade absentmindedly as she thinks. The other was lost some time ago, but the memories she made with the pair still remain.
there’s a hole in my earlobe. mom says it’s so i can be pretty. i don’t know why i need a hole in my earlobe to be pretty. especially when my ears are so eager to close it back up again.
I remember someone who once said that a woman should never go out of the house without an earring. For someone who can go out without one, was a little panicked. Why? Now, she’s getting divorced.
A blood stain ran through the carpet like creeping fingers. The earring lay just beyond it’s reach, a white pearl, nestled into a gold leaf.
Was it the victim’s or the or the perpetrator’s? Detective John Hand bent down and slipped it into a bag. He’d seen this before, but on whom?
I was thinking about my earrings today, in fact. Living in Japan and teaching, we are not allowed to wear jewelry of any sort and I have left my earrings out for so long that I fear I will never be able to use them again. Something that I decided so long ago was so simply taken away from me.
She glanced up at her reflection. It was missing. One ear replete with shimmering jewels, the other..? Missing! Her head spun. She retraced her steps. Yet it could not be found any where. She screamed inwardly.
I am wearing two. but only one is called and earring. the earring that I am wearing is silver, and has a small post. It is a stud. The earring is so punk rock. I love it, I wear it almost every day.
There I stood waiting for the man to come back with her parting gift. And suddenly it was there, sitting in my hand. It was diamond shaped and smooth, it’s worth echoing in small bolts of light brightly off every surface. It seemed to bathe in the sun, casting light shadows along the ceiling. Gorgeous and from a distant time, it rolled across my palm towards me, stopping right on the edge as if it knew. I clasped my hand tightly, my throat battling the sour demon lump that had taken residence there.
A single earring. My grandmother’s last gift to me.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice cracking mid-whisper. A clock tolled. I left the shop.
I am always losing one of a pair. I have so many single earrings I should go into business. I just got something in the mail today about getting free paire, shipping only. I think I might just do that because sure as hell, in six months I will have lost one of them. I really should buy 12 or more pairs the same.
I stared at the small jewel in my hand. It was diamond with small reflecting surfaces all around that bathed in the sun. How old was this masterpiece my grandmother left for me? I swallowed, still battling the ugly lump that took residency in my throat.
“Thank you,” I said, voice cracking in whisper. A clock tolled. I left the room.
I HAVE issues with earrings. I cannot keep a pair for very long. One goes missing. They break. Something. I love them. I used to wear ridiculous earrings but haven;t in a minute. I need to get back to that fun. Im afraid of getting too attached and losing more.
The earring lay on the dresser, as it had for so long that dust encrusted the thing, as it did the rest of the top of the dresser. He knew that the other earring was missing. It was one of the last things she had ever complained about. Now he only wished that she was still there, and able to complain about something. He left the earring there in her memory.
I want more earrings, I always wear the same earrings, I need to go shopping for more. I love jewelry. Jewelry accessorizes a person well. Cant overdo it though. I need more jewelry.
Loneliness has followed me my whole life. Everywhere. In cafes, in cars, sidewalks, stores, everywhere. There’s no escape. I’m God’s lonely man… April 16th last year. My life had taken another turn again. The days can go on with regularity over and over, one day indistinguishable from the next. A long continuous chain. Then suddenly, there is a change.
She stood in silence as she wondered what the noise was.
The unexpected sounds flowing through her eardrums.
The rings, an endless amount of tones. Her ears spokee.
earrings are fat and bejewelled and they hang from our mind-holes. like watermelons, only not as heavy or as seeded or as sweet or as double layered like how a watermelon is green on the outside, yet pink and amazing on the inside. an earring isn’t much like a watermelon, i guess. still, it’s nice when they’re gold and shimmery.
An earring is an ornament to be worn on or around the ears. the designs of earrings have changed a lot over the years, from the heavy, ornate pieces of work to the sleek and simple. It is not that earrings are only for women. Men, also, have worn the ear -rings. the tradiational Bhik-bali had been very famous across the Hindu cultures. Now-a-days, they are more known as piercings.
He wasn’t sure what to think when his boyfriend showed him the glowing jewel in his ear. Beaming, he demanded, “What d’you think!?”
“It’s, uh…” he was careful in choosing his next words. “It’s something.” He knew he hadn’t said the right thing when he watched the face before him fall.
Greg had arrived at the royal garden party just as the sun was beginning to sink below the skyline. The golden rays glinted off his silver hairs, a stunning contrast to the midnight-blue suit he’d managed to get steam-pressed in time for the affair. He stood uncomfortably beside Mycroft, holding his umbrella for him as the politician collected two glasses of Chardonnay from a passing tray-bearer. The two sipped at them in silence as they purveyed their present company.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” A bemused murmur from somewhere just above Greg’s head snapped him out of his thoughts for a second.
“Yeah, if you call feeling horribly out of place a form of enjoyment. You?”
Mycroft only gave a strained smile and focused his attention on one of the fancier couples. The man, dressed in a deep maroon three-piece, stroked his moustache as his wife told an incredibly droll story to two other guests. Lestrade followed his host’s gaze and saw that the woman was missing an earring, the other one still swinging wildly from her right lobe with each cranial gesture.
“She hasn’t yet noticed the asymmetry,” Mycroft pointed out, “Though I’ll wager that she or her captive audience will in the next five minutes. It has probably fallen into the ambrosia salad, judging by the splatter along the back of her sleeve.”
Greg only rolled his eyes, happy to not be on duty for the night. He surreptitiously took Mycroft by the elbow and led him to a different part of the gardens before the insufferable genius could be proved correct.
You always wore your signs of infidelity on your ears, but I didn’t believe it. You distracted me from the truth. I don’t think that I wanted to know. I do know now and it still hurts. Every new earrings that you wore only meant another guy that you were hiding. Your jewelry showed me everything and you told me nothing. I still don’t know why I took your invisible word as the truth.
hinting at something.
see shine dangling right from her earlobe,
pinned through thin skin:
i am devouring
sinful, desirous fantasy.
little does she know
of my scandalous private conspiracy:
to climb across this bed,
to nibble upon her naked nape,
to hang my tongue through
her silent attractive gem-laden piercing
connecting this fixation
to a heightened state of endorphin.
even less do i know of her dream
as i plot and write:
to climb my tower,
to find me hanging naked,
my line locked to her steel
fixing this nap she’s enjoying
to the reality of dreams within dreams.
All they had was my earring. Yet, somehow that was enough to track me down. Somehow their “wizards” and obsessives at their lab performed some kind of magic and traced me. From an earring that I dropped on the ground. One fucking earring.
I wear an earring in each ear because they complement my beautiful face. I am a really pretty girl. But once I add the adornment of an earring, I am absolutely stunning!
Her count acne was all I had to see to know she was not in a good place. Yesterday was the one year mark since she buried her only child. She had walked away from her faith and her family and was swallowed up by grief. I debated on whether I should even walk up to her, not sure what to say. I did know that if I were in her shoes I would have responded to my lose the same way. With a little fear I decided to make the move. As I approached her she saw me and we made eye contact. The tears in both our eyes stared to flow as we grabbed eachother and cried for what seemed like forever. No words needed to be said for the drops down our face communicated both our hearts. I had missed my friend and I had missed her touch.
He came back with a necklace made of what looked like organized but jagged quartz that’d scratch a woman’s chest and throat, a slender sliver watch that took more than a few moments to unclasp, and a multitude of earrings, some of which matched and some that didn’t. He’d grabbed a handful and kept moving, which is paramount. Besides, he thought, even if he didn’t have a bunch of matching earrings, he still had what he’d wanted to steal from that house ever since the old couple moved across the street from him a year ago, leaning against his brick fireplace.
Not bad, right? Next time, if I remember, I’m gonna link the next word to this one.
jewellery, drop, glisten, colourful, expensive
Ring an ear? ear a ring erring herring? she was finding her first day in London difficult, very difficult indeed. It’s going to be tough they said
Her earrings were fascinating to me. Every time she moved they swayed with her body, bouncing off her neck. I’d never seen such pure brilliance and the idea of them boggled my mind. Why would someone do that? I kept reaching up, touching my own virgin lopes, wondering what it would feel like.
I wondered if Nathaniel had loved her earrings as much as he had loved her. And what he would think if I were to puncture my own ears for the sake of vanity.
The earring was not only beautiful, it was full of meaning as well. There was something special about it all, but the significance was far beyond even this. The earring was magical, but no one would know until it was too late.
There was only one earring in the box. I knew there had been another the last time I looked but hey when you have three little granddaughters in the house who’se to know who stole what? I asked of course, you would wouldn’t you, and brought forth a chorus of “It wasn’t me”‘s and then floods of tears. I didn’t really care about the earring since it was only cheap plastic. Well it did have a history of sorts. I always buy mysef earrings when I visit a new place and these had been purchased in Portugal the first and only time I’d been there.
I haven’t put earrings in for awhile, guess it’s time to before my holes close up(:
i had my ears pierced and was very happy about that. until then i wore clip-ons, and i have no idea where they have gone. they’ve just gone out of sight. instead i enjoy wearing earrings that go through my ear robes.
Round, hanging, swaying with sensuality.
she lost her earring as she fell to earth with a sickening crunch,
it was handed to me in a plastic bag, still warm.
Golden and with a large pearl, it was his only redeeming feature if you didn’t count the large sword at his hip and the i-pad under his left arm.
Ryan sends her earrings for her birthday the winter after he leaves. No note, no card, just earrings. They arrive right on time, the first present she opens because the package is hand delivered that morning. They’re beautiful, handmade from California. She can’t even bring herself to wear them. She wraps them in the delicate tissue paper they were packaged in and sticks them in the drawer under her bras. She doesn’t find them again until she’s packing her things to move to her new apartment.
She has one earring, a green one. She fingers the jade absentmindedly as she thinks. The other was lost some time ago, but the memories she made with the pair still remain.
there’s a hole in my earlobe. mom says it’s so i can be pretty. i don’t know why i need a hole in my earlobe to be pretty. especially when my ears are so eager to close it back up again.
he likes golden earrings. nobody knows but at home, when he is alone, he always wears them and not only in the ears.
I remember someone who once said that a woman should never go out of the house without an earring. For someone who can go out without one, was a little panicked. Why? Now, she’s getting divorced.
A blood stain ran through the carpet like creeping fingers. The earring lay just beyond it’s reach, a white pearl, nestled into a gold leaf.
Was it the victim’s or the or the perpetrator’s? Detective John Hand bent down and slipped it into a bag. He’d seen this before, but on whom?
I was thinking about my earrings today, in fact. Living in Japan and teaching, we are not allowed to wear jewelry of any sort and I have left my earrings out for so long that I fear I will never be able to use them again. Something that I decided so long ago was so simply taken away from me.
She glanced up at her reflection. It was missing. One ear replete with shimmering jewels, the other..? Missing! Her head spun. She retraced her steps. Yet it could not be found any where. She screamed inwardly.
I am wearing two. but only one is called and earring. the earring that I am wearing is silver, and has a small post. It is a stud. The earring is so punk rock. I love it, I wear it almost every day.
There I stood waiting for the man to come back with her parting gift. And suddenly it was there, sitting in my hand. It was diamond shaped and smooth, it’s worth echoing in small bolts of light brightly off every surface. It seemed to bathe in the sun, casting light shadows along the ceiling. Gorgeous and from a distant time, it rolled across my palm towards me, stopping right on the edge as if it knew. I clasped my hand tightly, my throat battling the sour demon lump that had taken residence there.
A single earring. My grandmother’s last gift to me.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice cracking mid-whisper. A clock tolled. I left the shop.
I am always losing one of a pair. I have so many single earrings I should go into business. I just got something in the mail today about getting free paire, shipping only. I think I might just do that because sure as hell, in six months I will have lost one of them. I really should buy 12 or more pairs the same.
I stared at the small jewel in my hand. It was diamond with small reflecting surfaces all around that bathed in the sun. How old was this masterpiece my grandmother left for me? I swallowed, still battling the ugly lump that took residency in my throat.
“Thank you,” I said, voice cracking in whisper. A clock tolled. I left the room.
I HAVE issues with earrings. I cannot keep a pair for very long. One goes missing. They break. Something. I love them. I used to wear ridiculous earrings but haven;t in a minute. I need to get back to that fun. Im afraid of getting too attached and losing more.
The earring lay on the dresser, as it had for so long that dust encrusted the thing, as it did the rest of the top of the dresser. He knew that the other earring was missing. It was one of the last things she had ever complained about. Now he only wished that she was still there, and able to complain about something. He left the earring there in her memory.
I want more earrings, I always wear the same earrings, I need to go shopping for more. I love jewelry. Jewelry accessorizes a person well. Cant overdo it though. I need more jewelry.
Loneliness has followed me my whole life. Everywhere. In cafes, in cars, sidewalks, stores, everywhere. There’s no escape. I’m God’s lonely man… April 16th last year. My life had taken another turn again. The days can go on with regularity over and over, one day indistinguishable from the next. A long continuous chain. Then suddenly, there is a change.
She stood in silence as she wondered what the noise was.
The unexpected sounds flowing through her eardrums.
The rings, an endless amount of tones. Her ears spokee.
earrings are fat and bejewelled and they hang from our mind-holes. like watermelons, only not as heavy or as seeded or as sweet or as double layered like how a watermelon is green on the outside, yet pink and amazing on the inside. an earring isn’t much like a watermelon, i guess. still, it’s nice when they’re gold and shimmery.
An earring is an ornament to be worn on or around the ears. the designs of earrings have changed a lot over the years, from the heavy, ornate pieces of work to the sleek and simple. It is not that earrings are only for women. Men, also, have worn the ear -rings. the tradiational Bhik-bali had been very famous across the Hindu cultures. Now-a-days, they are more known as piercings.
He wasn’t sure what to think when his boyfriend showed him the glowing jewel in his ear. Beaming, he demanded, “What d’you think!?”
“It’s, uh…” he was careful in choosing his next words. “It’s something.” He knew he hadn’t said the right thing when he watched the face before him fall.
Greg had arrived at the royal garden party just as the sun was beginning to sink below the skyline. The golden rays glinted off his silver hairs, a stunning contrast to the midnight-blue suit he’d managed to get steam-pressed in time for the affair. He stood uncomfortably beside Mycroft, holding his umbrella for him as the politician collected two glasses of Chardonnay from a passing tray-bearer. The two sipped at them in silence as they purveyed their present company.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” A bemused murmur from somewhere just above Greg’s head snapped him out of his thoughts for a second.
“Yeah, if you call feeling horribly out of place a form of enjoyment. You?”
Mycroft only gave a strained smile and focused his attention on one of the fancier couples. The man, dressed in a deep maroon three-piece, stroked his moustache as his wife told an incredibly droll story to two other guests. Lestrade followed his host’s gaze and saw that the woman was missing an earring, the other one still swinging wildly from her right lobe with each cranial gesture.
“She hasn’t yet noticed the asymmetry,” Mycroft pointed out, “Though I’ll wager that she or her captive audience will in the next five minutes. It has probably fallen into the ambrosia salad, judging by the splatter along the back of her sleeve.”
Greg only rolled his eyes, happy to not be on duty for the night. He surreptitiously took Mycroft by the elbow and led him to a different part of the gardens before the insufferable genius could be proved correct.
You always wore your signs of infidelity on your ears, but I didn’t believe it. You distracted me from the truth. I don’t think that I wanted to know. I do know now and it still hurts. Every new earrings that you wore only meant another guy that you were hiding. Your jewelry showed me everything and you told me nothing. I still don’t know why I took your invisible word as the truth.
hinting at something.
see shine dangling right from her earlobe,
pinned through thin skin:
i am devouring
sinful, desirous fantasy.
little does she know
of my scandalous private conspiracy:
to climb across this bed,
to nibble upon her naked nape,
to hang my tongue through
her silent attractive gem-laden piercing
connecting this fixation
to a heightened state of endorphin.
even less do i know of her dream
as i plot and write:
to climb my tower,
to find me hanging naked,
my line locked to her steel
fixing this nap she’s enjoying
to the reality of dreams within dreams.
A pearl earring. Perhaps just a fixation of mine, surfacing from a memory I struggle to keep, and yet am forced unceasingly apart from.
All they had was my earring. Yet, somehow that was enough to track me down. Somehow their “wizards” and obsessives at their lab performed some kind of magic and traced me. From an earring that I dropped on the ground. One fucking earring.
I don’t have any earrings. Perhaps it is a sign of my own sense of individuality that I would constantly deny. I don’t plan to get one.
Long dangle earring sliding guidelesslly through the ear lobes, dangling to the shoulder. Earr