my heart was stolen 24 years ago by a man who made me feel like the most beautiful woman alive. we shared many wonderful days together, laughing, loving, and living. But then his inner light was stolen by dark clouds, and they never went away. Now there is only heartbreak and I’m having to steal my heart back.
you have stolen my heart. I hate how people say that you steal someone’s name, I think it sounds juvenile. I love the idea, though, of stealing someone’s heart. It never really is stealing because they give it to you, it is just that they are unaware of the actual act of giving until it is gone. Suddenly they are standing there with their hands outstretched towards your hands that hold their pulsing, bleeding heart. True love is a magnificent thing.
They stole the night. Stole it from their spouses and their families just to be together. Under the cover of that stolen night they lived a lifetime. A lifetime they would cherish. Forever. A lifetime lived through one stolen night together.
I only stole one thing in my entire life, if you could it as even being stolen (one time I put a lower price sticker on an object to afford it, but I don’t know if that counts). When I was about ten years old we went to the dollar store. There, fallen into the aisle, was a bag of marbles. Someone else had already opened the bag to steal them. I saw them, took one, hid it in my hood, and walked out. Half an hour later I ran back to return it, crying.
i thought you had stolen something from me, then I knew
I gave it to you, accidentally.
I accidentally gave you something that I can’t
get back.
I want to ask, I would like to say
You stole from me, please, no,
I want it back.
Or should I say please.
and sometimes and maybe and sometimes it happens. I feel like time has been stolen from me. because here i am at 23 and Im still the same as when i was 16. i stole my own thunder. times stolen from me and now im aging and i still don’t feel like I’ve lived. an dim so beautiful. i am so beautiful and that will be stole from me one day.
Ever since I was young, I’ve always been a kleptomaniac. I mean, I’ve never really stolen anything important, save for money from my mother’s purse or other household items but I’ve always had that innate desire to take.
To steal.
It is something that’s wired into my brain. I see someone leave their car with the keys in the ignition, I want to drive it off. When I walk into a store, I look at something and think of the thirty different ways to grab it and get out of the store without getting caught.
Stolen! I yelled, running through the streets, screeching, looking at every stranger suspiciously, trying to name the big missing hole in my heart, and hoping that there used to be something there, it was there, I was whole, who is it that has left me in this state of fragmentation….
He had stolen a key from the old woman’s house. It was his
first time. A part of him shook with bubbling excitement and the
other, moral half of him, trembled with guilt. He wasn’t sure what
to make of the feeling. He put the stolen into his pocket and
walked down the street, whistling a tune he had heard his father
sing.
you have stolen from me. i dont know why. sometimes i want to steel though. i want to steel happiness from others. but i never want to take it away so that they feel less happy, i just wish i could feel what they feel. maybe i would steel it for a second and then give it right back. just for one moment to understand true happiness, so that i could know exactly what i am striving for.
“If it weren’t for your stoney friend over there, I
might’ve had to get deathly serious for a minute.” Rousseau doesn’t
lie through his teeth unless he has moxy to back himself up, and
right now he’s just about all out of it. He knows better than to
cause a scene in a crowded place surrounded by people of all types,
but if he didn’t defend himself at least once (it’d be a good story
later, but still!)- “Eh? You really think it would have taken this
bloke to keep me from knocking your teeth out?” Dylan sounds more
offended than threatening and Marcus just gives the two a sour
glance before puffing out his smoke in distaste. Roland was right
after all. They couldn’t leave Dylan alone in the market place for
bloody anything. “Hey. I’m staying out of it.” “An order of
dumplings?” A fresh hot paper bag drops on the counter between
them. Rousseau double-takes and Dylan squints hard. “Wait-” “I TOLD
you I didn’t steal your dumplings, ignoramus!” “Good on you. I
would’ve had to get deathly serious if you pulled that shit-”
“DON’T STEAL MY LINE!”
My heart wasn’t stolen. It was given. Why? Because I wanted to. She said: “I took it”, y thought to myself: “She thinks so…” As simple as that. She can’t see it. Such as a tear lost in the rain.
I feel like all my plans were stolen…the plans to live in the woods, and churn my own butter. The plans to climb mountains and hike through the woods…all was stolen.
The bike had been stolen months ago but James still thought about it. Sitting in his living room against the wet window pane he reminisced. The time he jumped the double kicker at the bike track in the woods, the time he and his friends rode to the edge of town, the time he gave Sally Perkins a ride home on the handle bars. He missed that bike. James’ mom said that money was tight and they couldn’t afford a new bike and to wait for Christmas but it wasn’t even Halloween yet! He didn’t think he could wait that long.
The dust left a bad taste in her mouth, and the sun was shining too brightly making the whole street blinding and golden in a warm heart felt manner that she suddenly loathed. A part of her knew it had nothing to do with the sand on her tongue, or the angle of the light. The children playing before her seemed somehow offensive. They always did. She would watch the young girls dance about, arms tilted as they dreamed of fair folk and scowl. As small boys would play war and playfully beat each other with sticks and wage epic battles Ehimir would growl under her breath. But it was not the children that bothered her.
Toag had noticed early on Ehimir’s anger towards kids; it had started back in his village when she would wander the streets. Her hatred for children was apparent, but he hadn’t been able to learn why. Now, as she stood by him glaring at the herd of children flocking about in the quiet street, he wondered again about her white-hot feelings. Then he caught her eye and for a moment, the look there echoed in his mind as a vast fire engulfing the world. He understood for a moment. It wasn’t the children, it was what had been taken from her. There, burning behind her green eyes was the agony and hate that surfaced when dragons were involved in a conversation. There was the look that had first caught his breath and made him terrified and sad all at once. He looked from her to the small boy that was crawling towards them.
Steal, stole, stolen. I’m thinking of a fruit filled pastry that someone purloined. It was stolen stollen. I’m so freaking funny. But what of stolen? Why and how? Someone didn’t lock it up very well. And who let the dogs out? Who? Who?
My heart. And my bike. The thin devil with smiling eyes picked the simple lock only slightly faster than I could. I hadn’t shouted, like how most people would do; I just watched him nonchalantly slide onto my bicycle. He had known I was watching him, too. The bastard was showing off. He winked and shot a charmed grin at me as he casually rode away, knowing that I had allowed him to take it. The bike, that is.
My heart by a girl that way too young but older than it seems. Pride and tall while walking small and fragile. Sweet and innocent still ahead of time and as wise as it comes
The watch was stolen from well. Well, I suppose it technically was taken from me. After all, you can’t really steal something that’s stolen. Pretty sure that’s a thing. Or maybe it isn’t? Stream of conscious
You ran right into me on the street,
I thought you could have been a pick pocket,
until you handed me food right from your bowl.
I declined, friendly stranger.
But your eyes caught me.
Then your words came pouring over signals,
and I was bound.
You showed up at my door,
a welcome thief in the night.
You came through my house
and left in a matter of time.
You didn’t take anything that wasn’t yours.
But my heart left with you.
i was running alll the way home when i got stuck in son stupid rails. I tried my best to get out of the, but i found my courage had been stolen by the situation.
My heart has been stolen. It is constantly with you. I think about you. I feel you. I want to love you. I can’t keep it in any more. I need you to know how I feel.
An alarm sounded through the entire shopping center. A crowed scurried around the exits all looking for who would be the possible theif. The sharp, piercing sound of the crying alarm rang louder and louder as time seemed to go by. I looked around frantically with a pain gnawing at my chest. I fell to the ground, why wasn’t anyone helping me? My chest bled and everyone looked around at the doors of stores. It was stolen, my heart was stolen and I was gasping for air. The alarm wailed in my hears and I reached for something to shake me to a more comfortable place. I sat up, my alarm clock sang, 6 am, time to get ready for school.
“You have stolen my heart. What a load of B.S. You cannot steal what is given. The load has gotten larger. Seriously, why can’t you lovebirds take a flying leap? It’s making me sick to my stomach.”
“Dude, it’s not our fault you got dumped okay?”
“Uh, yeah, it kinda is blabbermouth.”
“You shouldn’t have lied about the porn, dude…. never lie about the porn.”
His breath is stolen as he looks over the cliff. He had known that looking would be a bad idea, but he could not tune out the screams of the people in the valley bellow.
Tears and screams of pain or pleasure, he couldn’t really tell. He was nestled too high in the mountain. Terrified of the goings on of the demons invading. He had warned them all and they had laughed. Now he could laugh, except it wasn’t at all humorous.
Things are stolen all the time, Peple never realize that physical tihngs aren’t the only thing that can be satolen, either. Time, lives, love, happiness. They can all be stolen and you will only realize it once its too lare.
You choose to ignore these things, and pretend you are truly living but you will never truly be alive with these stolen things.
It was stolen. I don’t know by whom. Or where it was taken. Or how long it will be gone. But it is…. gone. And I’m not sure if I’ll ever get it back. My pride.
He has a stolen a pencil from my mum.
Daniel has stolen Daisy’s food.
She has stolen mum’s gold that were in the closet.
Jill has stolen Patrick’s house key.
The leopard skin handbags were clearly stolen. Nobody had that many handbags. The more serious problem was the leopard, which had assumed those small things with the same skin as it were its offspring, and it was not letting anybody get near them.
You were stolen from us far too early, yet from the moment I was born you believed in me. You never got to watch me grow from a little girl into a young woman and you will never dance with me at my wedding, but I still carry the music notes you tucked away in my heart when you asked me to sing with you. I love you Grandpa, and every song I sing will forever be dedicated to you.
my heart was stolen 24 years ago by a man who made me feel like the most beautiful woman alive. we shared many wonderful days together, laughing, loving, and living. But then his inner light was stolen by dark clouds, and they never went away. Now there is only heartbreak and I’m having to steal my heart back.
you have stolen my heart. I hate how people say that you steal someone’s name, I think it sounds juvenile. I love the idea, though, of stealing someone’s heart. It never really is stealing because they give it to you, it is just that they are unaware of the actual act of giving until it is gone. Suddenly they are standing there with their hands outstretched towards your hands that hold their pulsing, bleeding heart. True love is a magnificent thing.
They stole the night. Stole it from their spouses and their families just to be together. Under the cover of that stolen night they lived a lifetime. A lifetime they would cherish. Forever. A lifetime lived through one stolen night together.
The time which we waste is essentially stolen from our future selves.
Thief. Stolen. In the middle of the night.
Gone.
The hooded creature nipped in through the window, and was out like a shot. Was he caught? No one will know.
I only stole one thing in my entire life, if you could it as even being stolen (one time I put a lower price sticker on an object to afford it, but I don’t know if that counts). When I was about ten years old we went to the dollar store. There, fallen into the aisle, was a bag of marbles. Someone else had already opened the bag to steal them. I saw them, took one, hid it in my hood, and walked out. Half an hour later I ran back to return it, crying.
i thought you had stolen something from me, then I knew
I gave it to you, accidentally.
I accidentally gave you something that I can’t
get back.
I want to ask, I would like to say
You stole from me, please, no,
I want it back.
Or should I say please.
and sometimes and maybe and sometimes it happens. I feel like time has been stolen from me. because here i am at 23 and Im still the same as when i was 16. i stole my own thunder. times stolen from me and now im aging and i still don’t feel like I’ve lived. an dim so beautiful. i am so beautiful and that will be stole from me one day.
Ever since I was young, I’ve always been a kleptomaniac. I mean, I’ve never really stolen anything important, save for money from my mother’s purse or other household items but I’ve always had that innate desire to take.
To steal.
It is something that’s wired into my brain. I see someone leave their car with the keys in the ignition, I want to drive it off. When I walk into a store, I look at something and think of the thirty different ways to grab it and get out of the store without getting caught.
Stolen! I yelled, running through the streets, screeching, looking at every stranger suspiciously, trying to name the big missing hole in my heart, and hoping that there used to be something there, it was there, I was whole, who is it that has left me in this state of fragmentation….
The things we borrow from our friends not are the things actually. We learn from what a real friendship is.
He had stolen a key from the old woman’s house. It was his
first time. A part of him shook with bubbling excitement and the
other, moral half of him, trembled with guilt. He wasn’t sure what
to make of the feeling. He put the stolen into his pocket and
walked down the street, whistling a tune he had heard his father
sing.
my heart. his hands. forever. my secrets. my makeup-less face.
you have stolen from me. i dont know why. sometimes i want to steel though. i want to steel happiness from others. but i never want to take it away so that they feel less happy, i just wish i could feel what they feel. maybe i would steel it for a second and then give it right back. just for one moment to understand true happiness, so that i could know exactly what i am striving for.
wake me when my heart feels
again lost in the path of dreams
where will it lead this broken man
nothing could be worse than now
moments of lucid beginnings
stolen from the soul of need
dream again without me you say
nothing else i have to give away
walk the path for me again
my eyes are blind in the rain
where will this lead my pain?
Black is here again, with me
I will walk again when I wake
over and over i will succumb
to the memories of a stolen child
no one wanted after that day
Will you walk or run away?
The vision opens again
the boy becomes the hated
the heart lost in the dream
of another day stolen from him
will you still be here when he wakes?
to see the blackness eaten away
by the love that resides within
my heart is the dream you want to see
the red a constant love of life
you are still here? why? I…
Words stolen into the night of my soul
It soon became apparent that stolen hours and stolen kisses would not be enough. So that was when they began to plan.
“If it weren’t for your stoney friend over there, I
might’ve had to get deathly serious for a minute.” Rousseau doesn’t
lie through his teeth unless he has moxy to back himself up, and
right now he’s just about all out of it. He knows better than to
cause a scene in a crowded place surrounded by people of all types,
but if he didn’t defend himself at least once (it’d be a good story
later, but still!)- “Eh? You really think it would have taken this
bloke to keep me from knocking your teeth out?” Dylan sounds more
offended than threatening and Marcus just gives the two a sour
glance before puffing out his smoke in distaste. Roland was right
after all. They couldn’t leave Dylan alone in the market place for
bloody anything. “Hey. I’m staying out of it.” “An order of
dumplings?” A fresh hot paper bag drops on the counter between
them. Rousseau double-takes and Dylan squints hard. “Wait-” “I TOLD
you I didn’t steal your dumplings, ignoramus!” “Good on you. I
would’ve had to get deathly serious if you pulled that shit-”
“DON’T STEAL MY LINE!”
My heart wasn’t stolen. It was given. Why? Because I wanted to. She said: “I took it”, y thought to myself: “She thinks so…” As simple as that. She can’t see it. Such as a tear lost in the rain.
I feel like all my plans were stolen…the plans to live in the woods, and churn my own butter. The plans to climb mountains and hike through the woods…all was stolen.
The bike had been stolen months ago but James still thought about it. Sitting in his living room against the wet window pane he reminisced. The time he jumped the double kicker at the bike track in the woods, the time he and his friends rode to the edge of town, the time he gave Sally Perkins a ride home on the handle bars. He missed that bike. James’ mom said that money was tight and they couldn’t afford a new bike and to wait for Christmas but it wasn’t even Halloween yet! He didn’t think he could wait that long.
The dust left a bad taste in her mouth, and the sun was shining too brightly making the whole street blinding and golden in a warm heart felt manner that she suddenly loathed. A part of her knew it had nothing to do with the sand on her tongue, or the angle of the light. The children playing before her seemed somehow offensive. They always did. She would watch the young girls dance about, arms tilted as they dreamed of fair folk and scowl. As small boys would play war and playfully beat each other with sticks and wage epic battles Ehimir would growl under her breath. But it was not the children that bothered her.
Toag had noticed early on Ehimir’s anger towards kids; it had started back in his village when she would wander the streets. Her hatred for children was apparent, but he hadn’t been able to learn why. Now, as she stood by him glaring at the herd of children flocking about in the quiet street, he wondered again about her white-hot feelings. Then he caught her eye and for a moment, the look there echoed in his mind as a vast fire engulfing the world. He understood for a moment. It wasn’t the children, it was what had been taken from her. There, burning behind her green eyes was the agony and hate that surfaced when dragons were involved in a conversation. There was the look that had first caught his breath and made him terrified and sad all at once. He looked from her to the small boy that was crawling towards them.
Steal, stole, stolen. I’m thinking of a fruit filled pastry that someone purloined. It was stolen stollen. I’m so freaking funny. But what of stolen? Why and how? Someone didn’t lock it up very well. And who let the dogs out? Who? Who?
My heart. And my bike. The thin devil with smiling eyes picked the simple lock only slightly faster than I could. I hadn’t shouted, like how most people would do; I just watched him nonchalantly slide onto my bicycle. He had known I was watching him, too. The bastard was showing off. He winked and shot a charmed grin at me as he casually rode away, knowing that I had allowed him to take it. The bike, that is.
My heart by a girl that way too young but older than it seems. Pride and tall while walking small and fragile. Sweet and innocent still ahead of time and as wise as it comes
The watch was stolen from well. Well, I suppose it technically was taken from me. After all, you can’t really steal something that’s stolen. Pretty sure that’s a thing. Or maybe it isn’t? Stream of conscious
Melancholy me
Joy is stolen
Hope ripped asunder
From the bowels of happiness
The shredded meat
That used to be
My heart.
You ran right into me on the street,
I thought you could have been a pick pocket,
until you handed me food right from your bowl.
I declined, friendly stranger.
But your eyes caught me.
Then your words came pouring over signals,
and I was bound.
You showed up at my door,
a welcome thief in the night.
You came through my house
and left in a matter of time.
You didn’t take anything that wasn’t yours.
But my heart left with you.
you know what feels stolen? innocence. of everyone. of you and me and every other struggling teenage fool out there.
i was running alll the way home when i got stuck in son stupid rails. I tried my best to get out of the, but i found my courage had been stolen by the situation.
My heart has been stolen. It is constantly with you. I think about you. I feel you. I want to love you. I can’t keep it in any more. I need you to know how I feel.
An alarm sounded through the entire shopping center. A crowed scurried around the exits all looking for who would be the possible theif. The sharp, piercing sound of the crying alarm rang louder and louder as time seemed to go by. I looked around frantically with a pain gnawing at my chest. I fell to the ground, why wasn’t anyone helping me? My chest bled and everyone looked around at the doors of stores. It was stolen, my heart was stolen and I was gasping for air. The alarm wailed in my hears and I reached for something to shake me to a more comfortable place. I sat up, my alarm clock sang, 6 am, time to get ready for school.
“You have stolen my heart. What a load of B.S. You cannot steal what is given. The load has gotten larger. Seriously, why can’t you lovebirds take a flying leap? It’s making me sick to my stomach.”
“Dude, it’s not our fault you got dumped okay?”
“Uh, yeah, it kinda is blabbermouth.”
“You shouldn’t have lied about the porn, dude…. never lie about the porn.”
“Screw you Kiba.”
His breath is stolen as he looks over the cliff. He had known that looking would be a bad idea, but he could not tune out the screams of the people in the valley bellow.
Tears and screams of pain or pleasure, he couldn’t really tell. He was nestled too high in the mountain. Terrified of the goings on of the demons invading. He had warned them all and they had laughed. Now he could laugh, except it wasn’t at all humorous.
Things are stolen all the time, Peple never realize that physical tihngs aren’t the only thing that can be satolen, either. Time, lives, love, happiness. They can all be stolen and you will only realize it once its too lare.
You choose to ignore these things, and pretend you are truly living but you will never truly be alive with these stolen things.
It was stolen. I don’t know by whom. Or where it was taken. Or how long it will be gone. But it is…. gone. And I’m not sure if I’ll ever get it back. My pride.
“What the- Where’s my shirt?”
“Which one?”
“You bloody well know which one, Lee. The one I was wearing last night?”
“Oh yeah, that was a challenge to take off, wasn’t it? I don’t know, Rich. You must have put it down somewhere.”
“For God’s sake, Lee, if I found out that my favourite shirt was stolen by my boyfriend I could just strangle you.”
“But it smells like you!” *pout*
(yes, I’ve been recently obsessed with Richlee do not question the Princess of Hell)
He has a stolen a pencil from my mum.
Daniel has stolen Daisy’s food.
She has stolen mum’s gold that were in the closet.
Jill has stolen Patrick’s house key.
The leopard skin handbags were clearly stolen. Nobody had that many handbags. The more serious problem was the leopard, which had assumed those small things with the same skin as it were its offspring, and it was not letting anybody get near them.
You were stolen from us far too early, yet from the moment I was born you believed in me. You never got to watch me grow from a little girl into a young woman and you will never dance with me at my wedding, but I still carry the music notes you tucked away in my heart when you asked me to sing with you. I love you Grandpa, and every song I sing will forever be dedicated to you.
My car was stolen yesterday by a stone cold bandit. This said bandit wore no mask,carries no gun,and didnt rob me. The bandit was my memory