My best friend has beautiful, light-coloured eyelashes, and yet insists on coating them in thick, black mascara. Sure, maybe it makes her eyes more noticeable from afar, but when I look at her up close, I can see the lighter part next to her eyelids like the roots in dyed hair, and I wish she would leave it more natural.
her lashes were long and black. as black as her soul i suppose. it couldnt have been darker than mine. when we were together it was sickening. lust and loathing. thats all it was. lust and loathing.
From across the room, she entered, batting her lashes like a minx, closing the distance between them with a few sashays of her latex covered hips. Below his mask he could see her knee-high boots, her bustier. She nibbled on his ear. “You’ve been a very naughty boy,” she said. And then she cracked her whip. “That will be seventy lashes.”
Whips are one of the cruelest forms of punishment. I stood there, five lashes down, fifteen to go. I could barely breathe, a heartbeat away from collapsing.
Everybody says that I have nice lashes. But whenever I wear mascara, they remind me of spider legs and it kind grosses me out. My lashes are so long you can see them in my shadow…
The lashes were unbearable, the man’s sweat and skin were falling to the ground in great piles. Even still, he continued to walk on. The demons, and marauders surrounded him. He made it to the podium, turned and addressed them.
LAshes are on your eye. They sometimes fall off, and it’s annoying when they do. You can use different makeup to change the affect your lashes have on your eyes…..
Lasnes falls as lasnes runs. I don’t know what lasnes is. Is that a crime to be behind everyone else? We all have something that belongs to ourselves but I am lacking. No, not lacking what I need. Lasnes is unnecessary.
She batted her lashes at him, giggling. He didn’t seem to notice her, which made her try even harder. She reached over slowly, resting her hand on his arm. “Nice arms,” she said. He shook her off. “Nice try.”
marigold
feisty
evering the detours
calming the fees
casting allure
down lengthy greens.
simple calculations,
this heart greener
than that
all the carp
you can eat
festering
in the cesspools
of granted wheat.
walk miles
swim rivers
cloud mind
with all that
withers, i am seed
building seed
trampling seed
& i wander
the castled ways
seeding fire
in coffee eyes
in coffee ways
tearing down
the fear
in all the fearsome
days.
lashes. Flashes. Können flashes lashes sein? Flaschenflash. Zu viel getrunken letzte Nacht. Der Kopf brummt. Ich weiß nicht wohin. Mir ist schlecht. Immer noch und immer wieder. Wohin?
Snowflakes catch on her lashes. They flutter about. No mascara today. How long they are, but still blonde. Oh, they’ll darken with age. But that light youth is so wonderful. How good it is for the snow to fall on her lashes.
I peer at him up through mine and somehow he doesn’t really make eye contact.
I wish they were darker, longer, better, but mascara is clumpy and fake and not what he looks for.
She never wore it, you know.
Her lashes were long and dark. The thickest lashes I’d ever seen on a real woman. My sister had dolls with lashes that thick, but I was amazed that a living breathing human could have such lashes. She hardly ever wore mascara, I heard her admit to her girlfriends one day. She didn’t need it.
bristled and blackened
charred and stained
painted and dripping
torn and mamed
always forgiving
never relenting
reliving and regressing
transgressing shame
Wet with tears. Feels so strange to have them touch my cheek and leave a wet trail. They feel naked. And exposed. But this is right. It feels the way it should. I don’t know if I want to stop this crying.
softly, her lashes brush her cheek. she smiles slowly, a blush creeping over her cheeks. then she looks up at me from under her lashes. “I think,” she begins, “I think I’m in love with you too.”
lashes. i was watching tv last night and noticed that the announcer was wearing false eye lashes. she kept blinking and these huge black eye lashes would come barreling down, then back up again. b
Her eyelashes were long and heavily mascara’d. There was nothing about them that said natural however. Harry found himself wishing that he’d woken up next to an acromantula instead of her. She looked like a drag queen gone wrong.
the bat of lashes
the hymn of spring
the cursive of YOU or your thoughts
the Latin of imagination
which I can say who brought it to my attention
no not today
i say i say
not today
She batted her thick heavy lashes at him lick some cartoon bimbo from the 1920s. It was all I could do to keep from laughing hysterically at her foolishness. Was he really going to fall for that?
Again and again and again–the pain surged through his body, a rush of the worst kind of excitement pulsing through his veins, through whatever was left of his blood.
I admittedly admire those who flail themselves. The self discipline they have to endure self inflicting pain on a regular basis voluntarily – they have balls…. or a strange fetish.
her lashes were long and lush like tissue paper wrapped around felt or velvet. She batted them at me, and I melted. They were longer than mine, for once.
oh lashes how I love thee. Thy curvature and symmetry, guarding my fragile eyes from the sweat of a thousand suns. Oh how you ravish me and men who adore thee for your flirtacity
eye lashes are pretty cool. I like long thick ones, but alas, but my eye lashes are not very long or thick. I use lots of mascara and an eyelash curler and I still don’t like my eyelashes.
you have them on your eyes, they’re called eye lashes. They prevent dust and stuff from getting in your eyes. Another definition of ‘lashes’ is like uhh.. when you whip someone. You know, like ’40 lashes’.. BOOOY I’MA GIVE YOU 40 LASHES ONE OF THESE DAYS. H
My best friend has beautiful, light-coloured eyelashes, and yet insists on coating them in thick, black mascara. Sure, maybe it makes her eyes more noticeable from afar, but when I look at her up close, I can see the lighter part next to her eyelids like the roots in dyed hair, and I wish she would leave it more natural.
her lashes were long and black. as black as her soul i suppose. it couldnt have been darker than mine. when we were together it was sickening. lust and loathing. thats all it was. lust and loathing.
they swept across her blushing cheeks, and framed her starlight eyes. i was slowly mesmerized by how she looked at me through them.
Her lashes glistened with tears that fell from her eyes but still she looked up from under them and smiled. “We’ll be okay.” She said.
From across the room, she entered, batting her lashes like a minx, closing the distance between them with a few sashays of her latex covered hips. Below his mask he could see her knee-high boots, her bustier. She nibbled on his ear. “You’ve been a very naughty boy,” she said. And then she cracked her whip. “That will be seventy lashes.”
Whips are one of the cruelest forms of punishment. I stood there, five lashes down, fifteen to go. I could barely breathe, a heartbeat away from collapsing.
his dark lashes brushed up against my cheek. I could count every one of them, long and curled underneath his deep set eyes.
Everybody says that I have nice lashes. But whenever I wear mascara, they remind me of spider legs and it kind grosses me out. My lashes are so long you can see them in my shadow…
The lashes were unbearable, the man’s sweat and skin were falling to the ground in great piles. Even still, he continued to walk on. The demons, and marauders surrounded him. He made it to the podium, turned and addressed them.
LAshes are on your eye. They sometimes fall off, and it’s annoying when they do. You can use different makeup to change the affect your lashes have on your eyes…..
Lasnes falls as lasnes runs. I don’t know what lasnes is. Is that a crime to be behind everyone else? We all have something that belongs to ourselves but I am lacking. No, not lacking what I need. Lasnes is unnecessary.
She batted her lashes at him, giggling. He didn’t seem to notice her, which made her try even harder. She reached over slowly, resting her hand on his arm. “Nice arms,” she said. He shook her off. “Nice try.”
forty lashes, on my booty
but i bat my lashes and get away with it.
again, for the 1000000000 the time
Damn
marigold
feisty
evering the detours
calming the fees
casting allure
down lengthy greens.
simple calculations,
this heart greener
than that
all the carp
you can eat
festering
in the cesspools
of granted wheat.
walk miles
swim rivers
cloud mind
with all that
withers, i am seed
building seed
trampling seed
& i wander
the castled ways
seeding fire
in coffee eyes
in coffee ways
tearing down
the fear
in all the fearsome
days.
lashes. Flashes. Können flashes lashes sein? Flaschenflash. Zu viel getrunken letzte Nacht. Der Kopf brummt. Ich weiß nicht wohin. Mir ist schlecht. Immer noch und immer wieder. Wohin?
Snowflakes catch on her lashes. They flutter about. No mascara today. How long they are, but still blonde. Oh, they’ll darken with age. But that light youth is so wonderful. How good it is for the snow to fall on her lashes.
I peer at him up through mine and somehow he doesn’t really make eye contact.
I wish they were darker, longer, better, but mascara is clumpy and fake and not what he looks for.
She never wore it, you know.
Her lashes were long and dark. The thickest lashes I’d ever seen on a real woman. My sister had dolls with lashes that thick, but I was amazed that a living breathing human could have such lashes. She hardly ever wore mascara, I heard her admit to her girlfriends one day. She didn’t need it.
Her face close to mine, lying in my bed, her lashes brush softly against my cheek as she sleepily whispers, “I love you.”
bristled and blackened
charred and stained
painted and dripping
torn and mamed
always forgiving
never relenting
reliving and regressing
transgressing shame
Wet with tears. Feels so strange to have them touch my cheek and leave a wet trail. They feel naked. And exposed. But this is right. It feels the way it should. I don’t know if I want to stop this crying.
softly, her lashes brush her cheek. she smiles slowly, a blush creeping over her cheeks. then she looks up at me from under her lashes. “I think,” she begins, “I think I’m in love with you too.”
lashes. i was watching tv last night and noticed that the announcer was wearing false eye lashes. she kept blinking and these huge black eye lashes would come barreling down, then back up again. b
The mascara wept from her lashes at the sound of his voice. The pain was to strong for her to bear alone.
they skim the surface of the air, blowing a slight breeze that grows and grows till hurricaines blow in japan.
Her eyelashes were long and heavily mascara’d. There was nothing about them that said natural however. Harry found himself wishing that he’d woken up next to an acromantula instead of her. She looked like a drag queen gone wrong.
Lashes could mean forty lashes or they could mean sexy long eye lashes depending on your point of view. Perhaps they go together.
lashes is the equivalent of the hymn of god. god you say. oh my. not him.
lashes is the equivalent of song on your face.
the bat of lashes
the hymn of spring
the cursive of YOU or your thoughts
the Latin of imagination
which I can say who brought it to my attention
no not today
i say i say
not today
She batted her thick heavy lashes at him lick some cartoon bimbo from the 1920s. It was all I could do to keep from laughing hysterically at her foolishness. Was he really going to fall for that?
Again and again and again–the pain surged through his body, a rush of the worst kind of excitement pulsing through his veins, through whatever was left of his blood.
He really should’ve just swabbed the deck.
I love lashings of butter on my bread. The way it leaves perfect moldings of my teeth after I have taken a bit bite.
It was raining and little droplets were catching on my lashes; dewy drops, and they slowly ran down my face, glistening in the sun afterwards.
I admittedly admire those who flail themselves. The self discipline they have to endure self inflicting pain on a regular basis voluntarily – they have balls…. or a strange fetish.
the long lashes of clouds in the sky cut fin white line across my vision.
“Are they waves?” I looked at my son in amazement.
her lashes were long and lush like tissue paper wrapped around felt or velvet. She batted them at me, and I melted. They were longer than mine, for once.
oh lashes how I love thee. Thy curvature and symmetry, guarding my fragile eyes from the sweat of a thousand suns. Oh how you ravish me and men who adore thee for your flirtacity
Sweet cakes and milkshakes.
My Lashes transcend the skies,
Will you marry me?
eye lashes are pretty cool. I like long thick ones, but alas, but my eye lashes are not very long or thick. I use lots of mascara and an eyelash curler and I still don’t like my eyelashes.
you have them on your eyes, they’re called eye lashes. They prevent dust and stuff from getting in your eyes. Another definition of ‘lashes’ is like uhh.. when you whip someone. You know, like ’40 lashes’.. BOOOY I’MA GIVE YOU 40 LASHES ONE OF THESE DAYS. H