My eyes were so heavy I knew I was unable to fight sleep. I crawled into bed and felt so small in it. It was loneliness that shrunk me. My once queen sized bed felt like an ocean swallowing me up with my own tears. It was so cold that I couldn’t bare to undress. I kept my jacket on and hugged my pillow. I could still smell you from earlier that day. I never wanted to take my coat off as long as it still smelled like you. I took a deep inhale, took you in, and smiled. I had sweet dreams of you that night. The only thing of you I have left.
it was funny because I was just playing greensleeve on the youtube channel. Anything else makes me want to vomit cooked gingerbread men out of my mouth and watch them gallop and become philanthropists on my desk. I would sway the tides of studying with my gingerbread army as they ravaged the dorm rooms and molested the city.
it was rolled up revealing arms that were covered in tattoos and scars. I couldn’t bare to look, my insides were screaming at me, but i couldn’t pull my eyes away no matter how disgusted I was. On top of the scars and the tattoos were deep incisions, they were bleeding out, pooling on the carpet
I didn’t know what else to do. I had to do something, but for once in my life, my voice, my mouth, that whole entire bundle that it takes to bring speech into the atmosphere of the living, it was nothing.
I was numb. I was blind and yet, somehow, I had to make myself known.
Her sleeve was soft and silky, as if it were everything that she wasn’t, with the look in her dark eyes and the dusky red lips pursed in thought. I didn’t think she’d even feel it, I thought that perhaps, she wouldn’t even notice me.
I thought she might do it to spite me.
And then she turned and with one simple arch of those dark eyebrows, I knew my fate was sealed.
Maxine looked rather adorably goofy in her father’s long coat and his big old floppy top hat. The tiny fourteen-year-old was waving a deck of cards in her brother’s face, while I hid my laughter behind my teeth.
“Pick a card, any card,” she said.
“I’ll pick one,” I tried to whisper, but the words couldn’t come out.
He pulled up his sleeves, preparing to tackle the work load. She watched him, unsure of how the act pulling up one’s sleeves helped one write a paper – mental preparation? Yet, barely a paragraph into the paper he pushed them back down, one sleeve at a time. He did this over and over, and the further her got in the paper, the more frustrated he became, he would push both sleeves down fiercely. Towards the end he pushed his sleeves back up in triumph as he raised his arms in the air. Success.
i used to think that the sleeve on my sister’s shirt was a monster trying to eat at her arm. I guess it wasn’t because it kept her warm and she never complained. It got me thinking, however, how many things people must wear each day and never complain about, no matter what pain it brings them. Does pain subside as you carry it further? You can take it off and put it on as you please, just like sleeves, but it’s something a body can’t ever go without.
i used to think that the sleeve on my sister’s shirt was a monster trying to eat at her arm. I guess it wasn’t because it kept her warm and she never complained. It got me thinking, however, how many things people must wear each day and never complain about, no matter what pain it brings them. Does pain subside as you carry it further? Is there a numbing that happens at the core of every person?
she knows how to feel as she tugs it over
self
like a potato skin, blanched and ruched
she is the rough cache beneath
other, without intimacy
or public scope
My sleeve is long and soft and cozy. It is very warm and cozy and keeps me nice and snuggled at this cold time of year. It is as cozy as Christmas and as soft as Santa’s hat.
I wear my heart on my sleeve. They’re usually short. They’re stained red from the truth I’ve said. They change depending on my mood, or the temperature in the air.
sleeve is reffered as the edge of round abjects. like sleeves of a shirt and sleeves of the engine piston. We normally use as sleeves up for the shirts. “sleeves up” is an ideom for start somthing with enthusiasum. Shirts are some time with sleeves, sleeve less or half sleeves. sleeves of shirtare ties with a button or as coughlings.
one day I found myself
considering the fact
that to get down and dirty
to get to the point
to find out the reason
why I was working
towards these great
goals and future promises
of what I should strive for
that when I came to
the point of learning
that what I needed to do
I would roll up my sleeves.
i am wearing a shirt and i like it. it is my favorite sweater. it is green and has sort of long sleeves. I wear it too much. but tonight I wore it with a skirt to look hipster. I wish i was a hipster which is how I know I’m not one. I saw a hipster go to the grocery store yesterday. I think he was vegan and rode his bike and had saddle bags. I couldn’t find the rice vinegar at Food Lion.
Suddenly, the girl shook. Lately, she had been feeling extremely cold. Everyone around her seemed warm, why wasn’t she? Even she could tell something was up. Very curious, this predicament was. Even though she was so perceptive to notice the problem, she couldn’t see she needed some sleeves on her shirt.
i have no sleeves today because it is finally summer. I especially like the sleeves that only cover the shoulder. This usually means the beach, and fun in the sun. No sleeves is even more fun as it means I am on holidays.
I put on my jacket and my stupid sleeve got caught. I hate it when that happens because then I must do the whole process again. This time I take off my jacket and hold the end of the sleeve with my hand so that it won’t happen again. Stupid sleeve!
I really don’t like sleeves. They are almost always too something. Whether it be too tight or too loose, they’re never right. Some feel like they’re trying to cut off my arms. Others try to sabotage my meals. Like the sleeves are rising up against me and trying to either poison me or make me unable to fight back.
When I think about sleeves I think about the ones that have the thing that is written on the sleeve, like my heart is on my sleeve and on the sleeve is like music or something. I love those kinds of shirts, they are so cute. :) Warm long sleeves are my fave.
He tugged at the corner at my sleeve and I bent down to listen to the resonance of his playful voice carry through my mind. What was he trying to tell me? Did I want to play with him? What a silly question that was. Of course, I would love to.
Sleeves, the ultimate comfort, they have the ability to keep us warm, yet at the same time can be rolled up when they are not needed. They are there for us when we need them and just a roll away when we don’t.
I am so glad I don’t have sleeves right now. It would be rather uncomfortable to be in sleeves even though it is in the middle of, or rather, the beginning of winter. This house and my room is so warm.
I wiped my eyes on my sleeve. Disappointment raged through me. Of course. It would happen this way. Sucky McSuckerville. That’s where I live right now.
Her sleeves were long, longer than most could see. A lot of people only saw them end at her elbow, when they really hit her knees. She hides the rest, the part from knees to the floor, because she falls on them when she wishes at home. They’re dirty and torn, ragged and frayed, but one day she hopes to meet that one person who has sleeves as long as she.
he quickly grabs the sleeve of my shirt trying to bring me back to him but i am not going back not back to the lies and hate i love him more then anything but i just cant turn back around i now if i turn around i will never have another chance to turn and leave because he will hypnotize me with those piercing blue eyes and i will fall right back in love with him!
his heart is easily pinned there, just above his shoulder. his mercury colored eyes are always so easily read, just like his bleeding heart pinned tightly to his sleeve. there isn’t anything he’d change about that, he doesn’t mind his heart is an open book. it’s easier that way. it’s easier to brush off the hurt if his heart was out in the open.
Her sleeves were torn off in jagged lines, giving the shirt the appearance of a tank top. A trashy tank top. I know some people think that’s cool and all, but it’s never really appealed to me. I mean, can you really not afford an actual tank top? Is that the appearance you want to give? Because they only cost $3 at the thrift store; why the frugility? It just makes me wonder is all.
She was pretty enough beyond that, though, so I guess I should have considered myself lucky. Some blind dates aren’t pretty at all.
He had a whole sleeve. I liked it but at the same time it seemed a bit obsessive. I mean I understand that people really like tattoos. But at the same time, if you like goldfish, you probably shouldn’t get 30 goldfish bowls on your kitchen counter.
Like dirt beneath my feet, you slip away through the sieve that I left before you last time I saw you, do you remember how I grabbed onto your sleeve? I held on like it was my last breath, because I felt that I would die if I ever let go. Did you know? How bad it felt to let it go?
He wore his heart on his sleeve, and he didn’t care who saw. It was of no importance to him what they thought, it was, after all, something that only mattered between himself and his love. What did they care what others thought? They belonged together. Forever. Thus it was on a dim midnight morning that they sealed the pact between them. For so long as one lived, so would the other. Their souls were entwined and nothing could break them apart.
My heart used to rest comfortably on my sleeve
Then something taught me to fear the world
Fear the ones you love
Pain is their weapon
Heartbreak is their song
My bleeding broken friend now lies
Beneath my shoe
Never seeing the light of day
My eyes were so heavy I knew I was unable to fight sleep. I crawled into bed and felt so small in it. It was loneliness that shrunk me. My once queen sized bed felt like an ocean swallowing me up with my own tears. It was so cold that I couldn’t bare to undress. I kept my jacket on and hugged my pillow. I could still smell you from earlier that day. I never wanted to take my coat off as long as it still smelled like you. I took a deep inhale, took you in, and smiled. I had sweet dreams of you that night. The only thing of you I have left.
it was funny because I was just playing greensleeve on the youtube channel. Anything else makes me want to vomit cooked gingerbread men out of my mouth and watch them gallop and become philanthropists on my desk. I would sway the tides of studying with my gingerbread army as they ravaged the dorm rooms and molested the city.
i wear hijab. i usually wear long-sleeve clothes. when i wear short-sleeve, i wear cardigan too.
it was rolled up revealing arms that were covered in tattoos and scars. I couldn’t bare to look, my insides were screaming at me, but i couldn’t pull my eyes away no matter how disgusted I was. On top of the scars and the tattoos were deep incisions, they were bleeding out, pooling on the carpet
Hey, you just hang on to my rainbow sleeves. – Rickie Lee Jones
I tugged on her sleeve.
I didn’t know what else to do. I had to do something, but for once in my life, my voice, my mouth, that whole entire bundle that it takes to bring speech into the atmosphere of the living, it was nothing.
I was numb. I was blind and yet, somehow, I had to make myself known.
Her sleeve was soft and silky, as if it were everything that she wasn’t, with the look in her dark eyes and the dusky red lips pursed in thought. I didn’t think she’d even feel it, I thought that perhaps, she wouldn’t even notice me.
I thought she might do it to spite me.
And then she turned and with one simple arch of those dark eyebrows, I knew my fate was sealed.
Perhaps for the worst.
“Nothing up my sleeve…”
“Really, Max? Really?”
Maxine looked rather adorably goofy in her father’s long coat and his big old floppy top hat. The tiny fourteen-year-old was waving a deck of cards in her brother’s face, while I hid my laughter behind my teeth.
“Pick a card, any card,” she said.
“I’ll pick one,” I tried to whisper, but the words couldn’t come out.
He pulled up his sleeves, preparing to tackle the work load. She watched him, unsure of how the act pulling up one’s sleeves helped one write a paper – mental preparation? Yet, barely a paragraph into the paper he pushed them back down, one sleeve at a time. He did this over and over, and the further her got in the paper, the more frustrated he became, he would push both sleeves down fiercely. Towards the end he pushed his sleeves back up in triumph as he raised his arms in the air. Success.
i used to think that the sleeve on my sister’s shirt was a monster trying to eat at her arm. I guess it wasn’t because it kept her warm and she never complained. It got me thinking, however, how many things people must wear each day and never complain about, no matter what pain it brings them. Does pain subside as you carry it further? You can take it off and put it on as you please, just like sleeves, but it’s something a body can’t ever go without.
i used to think that the sleeve on my sister’s shirt was a monster trying to eat at her arm. I guess it wasn’t because it kept her warm and she never complained. It got me thinking, however, how many things people must wear each day and never complain about, no matter what pain it brings them. Does pain subside as you carry it further? Is there a numbing that happens at the core of every person?
its connected to my shirt. covers my arm. ryhmes with believe. and tree. and see kinda.
Please wear your heart upon your sleeve, and quit playing guessing games with my heart.
she knows how to feel as she tugs it over
self
like a potato skin, blanched and ruched
she is the rough cache beneath
other, without intimacy
or public scope
My sleeve is long and soft and cozy. It is very warm and cozy and keeps me nice and snuggled at this cold time of year. It is as cozy as Christmas and as soft as Santa’s hat.
I wear my heart on my sleeve. They’re usually short. They’re stained red from the truth I’ve said. They change depending on my mood, or the temperature in the air.
sleeve is reffered as the edge of round abjects. like sleeves of a shirt and sleeves of the engine piston. We normally use as sleeves up for the shirts. “sleeves up” is an ideom for start somthing with enthusiasum. Shirts are some time with sleeves, sleeve less or half sleeves. sleeves of shirtare ties with a button or as coughlings.
one day I found myself
considering the fact
that to get down and dirty
to get to the point
to find out the reason
why I was working
towards these great
goals and future promises
of what I should strive for
that when I came to
the point of learning
that what I needed to do
I would roll up my sleeves.
Now I’d rather
drink.
i am wearing a shirt and i like it. it is my favorite sweater. it is green and has sort of long sleeves. I wear it too much. but tonight I wore it with a skirt to look hipster. I wish i was a hipster which is how I know I’m not one. I saw a hipster go to the grocery store yesterday. I think he was vegan and rode his bike and had saddle bags. I couldn’t find the rice vinegar at Food Lion.
Suddenly, the girl shook. Lately, she had been feeling extremely cold. Everyone around her seemed warm, why wasn’t she? Even she could tell something was up. Very curious, this predicament was. Even though she was so perceptive to notice the problem, she couldn’t see she needed some sleeves on her shirt.
i have no sleeves today because it is finally summer. I especially like the sleeves that only cover the shoulder. This usually means the beach, and fun in the sun. No sleeves is even more fun as it means I am on holidays.
I put on my jacket and my stupid sleeve got caught. I hate it when that happens because then I must do the whole process again. This time I take off my jacket and hold the end of the sleeve with my hand so that it won’t happen again. Stupid sleeve!
I really don’t like sleeves. They are almost always too something. Whether it be too tight or too loose, they’re never right. Some feel like they’re trying to cut off my arms. Others try to sabotage my meals. Like the sleeves are rising up against me and trying to either poison me or make me unable to fight back.
she tugged on the end of her navy blue sleeve that contained the memories that belittled the person she thought she once was…
When I think about sleeves I think about the ones that have the thing that is written on the sleeve, like my heart is on my sleeve and on the sleeve is like music or something. I love those kinds of shirts, they are so cute. :) Warm long sleeves are my fave.
He tugged at the corner at my sleeve and I bent down to listen to the resonance of his playful voice carry through my mind. What was he trying to tell me? Did I want to play with him? What a silly question that was. Of course, I would love to.
Sleeves, the ultimate comfort, they have the ability to keep us warm, yet at the same time can be rolled up when they are not needed. They are there for us when we need them and just a roll away when we don’t.
wipe tears that soon turn to snot and salt and leave sticky puddles clinging to sleeves
I am so glad I don’t have sleeves right now. It would be rather uncomfortable to be in sleeves even though it is in the middle of, or rather, the beginning of winter. This house and my room is so warm.
sleeves are meant for wiping
for sneakily, suavely plugging a drippy nose
careful not to get caught.
no one will want to borrow your sweater
I wiped my eyes on my sleeve. Disappointment raged through me. Of course. It would happen this way. Sucky McSuckerville. That’s where I live right now.
In my sleeve I sometimes find a fragrant little buddy, the elusive dryer sheet.
Her sleeves were long, longer than most could see. A lot of people only saw them end at her elbow, when they really hit her knees. She hides the rest, the part from knees to the floor, because she falls on them when she wishes at home. They’re dirty and torn, ragged and frayed, but one day she hopes to meet that one person who has sleeves as long as she.
he quickly grabs the sleeve of my shirt trying to bring me back to him but i am not going back not back to the lies and hate i love him more then anything but i just cant turn back around i now if i turn around i will never have another chance to turn and leave because he will hypnotize me with those piercing blue eyes and i will fall right back in love with him!
sleeves keep me warm, especially when its cold
and i don’t have my love to keep me warm
no, not anymore
his heart is easily pinned there, just above his shoulder. his mercury colored eyes are always so easily read, just like his bleeding heart pinned tightly to his sleeve. there isn’t anything he’d change about that, he doesn’t mind his heart is an open book. it’s easier that way. it’s easier to brush off the hurt if his heart was out in the open.
Her sleeves were torn off in jagged lines, giving the shirt the appearance of a tank top. A trashy tank top. I know some people think that’s cool and all, but it’s never really appealed to me. I mean, can you really not afford an actual tank top? Is that the appearance you want to give? Because they only cost $3 at the thrift store; why the frugility? It just makes me wonder is all.
She was pretty enough beyond that, though, so I guess I should have considered myself lucky. Some blind dates aren’t pretty at all.
He had a whole sleeve. I liked it but at the same time it seemed a bit obsessive. I mean I understand that people really like tattoos. But at the same time, if you like goldfish, you probably shouldn’t get 30 goldfish bowls on your kitchen counter.
Like dirt beneath my feet, you slip away through the sieve that I left before you last time I saw you, do you remember how I grabbed onto your sleeve? I held on like it was my last breath, because I felt that I would die if I ever let go. Did you know? How bad it felt to let it go?
He wore his heart on his sleeve, and he didn’t care who saw. It was of no importance to him what they thought, it was, after all, something that only mattered between himself and his love. What did they care what others thought? They belonged together. Forever. Thus it was on a dim midnight morning that they sealed the pact between them. For so long as one lived, so would the other. Their souls were entwined and nothing could break them apart.
My heart used to rest comfortably on my sleeve
Then something taught me to fear the world
Fear the ones you love
Pain is their weapon
Heartbreak is their song
My bleeding broken friend now lies
Beneath my shoe
Never seeing the light of day