See through. Silver and grey. Her eyes were a pale, translucent shade, and they pierced mine in an oddly gentle manner. I instantly felt calmer, as those an unnatural power had brought me to a compassionate state. Peace…
See through. Like eyes. That are grey, or silver, and shimmery. But not in a tacky, glittery way. In a beautiful way instead. Peaceful, calm, transparent but not. Gorgeous, touching, emotions. Care. Calm. Peace.
this is here. the place that i’m always coming back to. the craving eats me up inside, soft poison touch floating over that delicate delicate thing we call happiness, fluttering like a veil at the top of the mountain, nestling down below in the dark bitter earth. waiting for me to come home.
She’s thin, too thin, like she hasn’t eaten in days, no, weeks. Her skin, normally tanned to a healthy bronze, is pale, nearly translucent; if she was so inclined, she’s sure she could trace ever vein in her body with terrifying ease.
Her skin turned into a sickly translucent shade and the light in her eyes started to fade. When this occured, I knew she was gone. My mother had always been so strong.
“I bet you didn’t know that I can see your soul right through your body.”
“Can you?” I asked, distracted. John was sitting behind me, toying with some rubik’s cube or something. He certainly wasn’t looking at me as I typed furiously.
“Yup,” he said, tossing the cube from hand to hand. “All the way through, and I’ve gotta tell you, Mira, it’s dark.”
I shot him a quick glance, but I couldn’t afford more than that. “Is that so?”
It is this date that we met. It has been a year. A year spent by me searching you trying to get in contact to you. Now when I have met you I have promised someone else a future with me. The same future which I dreamed with you. Though I have no roads turning towards you but still you are always there for me, as I am for you. We are there for each other. No one can ever take your place. There can be nothing translucent then my love for you. Brigail even if I marry another girl my love is always for you.
I reached out with fingertips of frosted ice. When I made contact, something flushed through my body, something warm.
“Is this what it feels like to be adored?” I murmurred.
“No,” he said, and he stepped away. “It is what it feels like to be loved.”
The difference between the two was something I could not yet comprehend at that point. It would be like trying to explain the difference between rain and water. One could not exist without the other, but with each, a certain element of pressure.
And pressure was something I was used to. I gave him a look. I looked him in the eyes. Could he see through me like a plane of icy glass?
“Well then,” I said, with a voice full of certainty. “I love you.”
Her eyes were completely clear. I don’t mean to say that they shone with brightness or that she seemed awake and aware. I mean that her irises had no color at all. I could see into the body of her eyes, the aqueous humor and the lens and, far in the back, the retina that is a part of her brain. I could see her mind when I looked into her eyes.
Her skin was nearly translucent. I could see pale blue veins beneath it, pulsing slightly as her blood flowed through them. She seemed ethereal; wispy, as if she might be blown away at any second. Her hair was brittle and white–not grey, but the stark white of the elderly, with just a hint of a yellow that reminded me of pus.
I’ve always read the word TRANSLUCENT on make up products and I’ve always wondered what the hell it meant. From what I remember, it’s supposed to make your skin glow to its best potential, hiding the blemishes and imperfections of the skin, yet showing off and blending to some of its best attributes.
How does a make up product even do that? I’ve remembered putting on powders and watching myself become a powdery yellow ghost in attempt to achieve flawlessness and I’ve always wondered about those radiant make up free models who don’t have to care about achieving a natural glow on a day to day basis whilst I have to trouble myself with products that help me lie to others to achieve something that is but natural for others.
Is it really fair? I stared at myself with the powder on my face, checking for uneven portions of my skin then wondering if I actually have the right skin tone at all or if its just a lack of skill in my hands to work with the product.
And no matter what I do, my dreaded oily nose will never stop flowing with its ugly, unattractive layer of shine. Which brings me to wonder why girls who apply moisturizer and have shine on their faces from the moisturizer look drastically different from girls whose faces are just shining from their NATURAL oil…..
OH the irony, the natural oil that makes you look ugly in exchange for the fake shine you get from a moisturizer product that gives your skin the NATURAL shine you can walk around the mall in with a proud, held-held-high look. Also, when I feel most beautiful, I try to consciously walk taller….
I feel if I walk taller, people stare more. Sometimes I wonder what they are really staring at.
The web shimmered as a gentle wind passed. Translucent. Wondrous. A feat of engineering even in human terms. Yet she couldn’t stand what it represented. Somewhere, near, was the eight-legged engineer. A quick swipe with the long-handled broom, erased her fear.
Translucent, blonde, thinned out hair. She used to be beautiful, but now drugs has so over consumed her life, body, and soul it has effected every faucet of her being.
Blood from the thing was eerily translucent as it pooled on the black tar road, reflecting the moon. Slamming down the boot of my car, i jogged back around to the front, bandages in hand, hyperventilating. “Hang in there, just hang in there…” I began wrapping them around the wound. Would bandages even help aliens? I was a human doctor, not an alien one, and alone on a highway at night. My uselessness in the situation made me want to shake myself.
It begins with a T, and so it ends.
Tristan.
My first love. The best one. The last one.
Was it spring or fall when we first met?
Even tought down we fall, I will always stand still
here
for
you
and
only you.
It begans with a t and so it ends. Tristan. My love. The first one. The best one. The last one. Was it spring or fall when I met you? Racing against my pulse I met you, our eyes crossed as if we were not there, as if we were invisible, or perhaps, only translucent.
i wish you were translucent
i wish your skin was as see through as mine
i wish i could see what you’re feeling
see your pulse quicken when you catch my eye
see your breath catch when you touch my hand
but translucent and only translucent
i want a faint glimpse
a vague clue
but even that is better than the silence i get from you
i don’t want everything to show
i don’t ask you to be invisible
i don’t ask for straight, brutal, blunt honesty
i want just enough light to pass through you to show me
anything.
i wonder why sometimes i think and don’t write
sparkled speckled dreams of never was and always mired
despite despise desire the burning rage inside my mind
see through you like translucent spires
church attire
say goodbye to love
never was my love
and can’t bare to, my love
It was almost gone; the color was fading in the thing, and she could do nothing to stop it. It went so fast – going, leaving, fleeing from her.
She felt guilty.
The solidity of it was gone – there was no stability left in it or in her.
They were both translucent.
Everything around me was clear. The walls, the ceiling, even the shackles that bound me to the translucent floor. Everywhere around me, through the clear walls, and under my clear floor, and above me in my clear ceiling, was people just like me. Well…as close to me as they could be. These people were simple citizens, probably accused of something stupid like walking on the grass in a public area (made illegal two years before now), or staring to long at the guards that patrolled our lands. I, on the other hand, was the real criminal. Assassination, what I was trained for since my birth high in the mountains of Walkile, was my accusation. They had no idea how guilty I was…or how much more guilty I was going to be.
i’ve spent years covering my tracks – pulling on veils, layers of clothes, jackets and cotton and wool of all sorts – in hopes of building a wall thick enough to hide myself in. no one sees me if i can’t see them. but a simple shove and you’d see all i’ve tried not to.
She peered through the glass, frowning when she could hardly see anything. After a moment, she rubbed at it with her sleeve, the clothes still heavy and unfamiliar, but it did very little good; she still couldn’t see properly through it. The cloudiness must have been on the other side, or perhaps between the panes of reinforced glass.
He had been working hard all week and he could not wait to get home. He missed Sophie so much, he hated it when his job kept him away from her for so long. It was going to be a long cab ride home from the airport. He was anticipating the smell of her clone or the soft feel of her curves. As he pulled .into the driveway, he noticed all the lights were off, he sighed a disappointed sigh. He dragged he his luggage into the dark house turning on lights as he went. When he finally made it to the bedroom he looked up to notice Sophie wearing nothing but a red translucent bow. He dropped his bags instantly and walked over to her. He gently grab at the end of the bow to untie his present waiting for him. He reached his hands out sliding the bow down her soft supple skin. while he placed his lip against hers and pressed hard using his tongue to separate her lips. She gently moan as her body melted into his arms.
She was translucent in the best way. The kind of girl anyone could talk to, and you know she’d listen. She wore her heart on her sleeve, too – you always knew what she was feeling. But she didn’t let that scare her. She wanted you to know, because she thought life was better that way. More honest. More translucent.
Her eyes were translucent. That’s the only way I can put it. That phrase “The eyes are the window to the soul,” it doesn’t begin to describe the way I lose myself when she looks at me. It’s like the color inside her bleeds through her irises, creating something I’ve never seen the likes of before.
Everything was clear, then everything was clearer. We didn’t know where, exactly, we were going, but that was okay. Everything was clearer, then everything went dark. We were grateful for the windshield and we were grateful for the flies. It’s hard to drive when you can’t see. Everyone knows that. Even with a film of rain across the glass, the road was still there.
as i watched her through the translucent glass
i fell in love with her curvaceous frame and beautiful mane
she was the essence of pure beauty
the epitome of magnificent
After having sat in the dark for what seemed like weeks, months even, his skin had an almost translucent shine to it. The sun hurt his eyes even through the thick layer of clouds and city smog. He felt sickly, unstable, shaky.
– I miss the purple! I really do. I missed it when it changed to black. Now translucent… I liked the good o’le days of the light purple. I guess I don’t like change very much (in any area of my life) when I like whatever is already there.
it is very clear. I would like a translucent photo of the flag over Ben’s tat. I feel translucent sometimes and other people are often translucent. The windows are translucent.
Clear, for all to see. The wind blew over the shell lying on the beach. Inside was a pearl of great beauty. Twinkling in the sunlight for all to see through the translucent shell.
It’s not transparent, it’s translucent. Quite the opposite of opaque. I remember learning these concepts as a little girl. I love translucent things. It seems to be most used on office glass doors these days. You can see that something is going on but you don’t know exactly what’s happening. Light and shadows, you know?
See through. Silver and grey. Her eyes were a pale, translucent shade, and they pierced mine in an oddly gentle manner. I instantly felt calmer, as those an unnatural power had brought me to a compassionate state. Peace…
See through. Like eyes. That are grey, or silver, and shimmery. But not in a tacky, glittery way. In a beautiful way instead. Peaceful, calm, transparent but not. Gorgeous, touching, emotions. Care. Calm. Peace.
this is here. the place that i’m always coming back to. the craving eats me up inside, soft poison touch floating over that delicate delicate thing we call happiness, fluttering like a veil at the top of the mountain, nestling down below in the dark bitter earth. waiting for me to come home.
See through, jelly fish, glass, chapel, light, science
She’s thin, too thin, like she hasn’t eaten in days, no, weeks. Her skin, normally tanned to a healthy bronze, is pale, nearly translucent; if she was so inclined, she’s sure she could trace ever vein in her body with terrifying ease.
Her skin turned into a sickly translucent shade and the light in her eyes started to fade. When this occured, I knew she was gone. My mother had always been so strong.
“I bet you didn’t know that I can see your soul right through your body.”
“Can you?” I asked, distracted. John was sitting behind me, toying with some rubik’s cube or something. He certainly wasn’t looking at me as I typed furiously.
“Yup,” he said, tossing the cube from hand to hand. “All the way through, and I’ve gotta tell you, Mira, it’s dark.”
I shot him a quick glance, but I couldn’t afford more than that. “Is that so?”
“Sure is,” he said smugly. “Want to see?”
Dear Love,
It is this date that we met. It has been a year. A year spent by me searching you trying to get in contact to you. Now when I have met you I have promised someone else a future with me. The same future which I dreamed with you. Though I have no roads turning towards you but still you are always there for me, as I am for you. We are there for each other. No one can ever take your place. There can be nothing translucent then my love for you. Brigail even if I marry another girl my love is always for you.
Love you
Jack.
I reached out with fingertips of frosted ice. When I made contact, something flushed through my body, something warm.
“Is this what it feels like to be adored?” I murmurred.
“No,” he said, and he stepped away. “It is what it feels like to be loved.”
The difference between the two was something I could not yet comprehend at that point. It would be like trying to explain the difference between rain and water. One could not exist without the other, but with each, a certain element of pressure.
And pressure was something I was used to. I gave him a look. I looked him in the eyes. Could he see through me like a plane of icy glass?
“Well then,” I said, with a voice full of certainty. “I love you.”
Her eyes were completely clear. I don’t mean to say that they shone with brightness or that she seemed awake and aware. I mean that her irises had no color at all. I could see into the body of her eyes, the aqueous humor and the lens and, far in the back, the retina that is a part of her brain. I could see her mind when I looked into her eyes.
Her skin was nearly translucent. I could see pale blue veins beneath it, pulsing slightly as her blood flowed through them. She seemed ethereal; wispy, as if she might be blown away at any second. Her hair was brittle and white–not grey, but the stark white of the elderly, with just a hint of a yellow that reminded me of pus.
I’ve always read the word TRANSLUCENT on make up products and I’ve always wondered what the hell it meant. From what I remember, it’s supposed to make your skin glow to its best potential, hiding the blemishes and imperfections of the skin, yet showing off and blending to some of its best attributes.
How does a make up product even do that? I’ve remembered putting on powders and watching myself become a powdery yellow ghost in attempt to achieve flawlessness and I’ve always wondered about those radiant make up free models who don’t have to care about achieving a natural glow on a day to day basis whilst I have to trouble myself with products that help me lie to others to achieve something that is but natural for others.
Is it really fair? I stared at myself with the powder on my face, checking for uneven portions of my skin then wondering if I actually have the right skin tone at all or if its just a lack of skill in my hands to work with the product.
And no matter what I do, my dreaded oily nose will never stop flowing with its ugly, unattractive layer of shine. Which brings me to wonder why girls who apply moisturizer and have shine on their faces from the moisturizer look drastically different from girls whose faces are just shining from their NATURAL oil…..
OH the irony, the natural oil that makes you look ugly in exchange for the fake shine you get from a moisturizer product that gives your skin the NATURAL shine you can walk around the mall in with a proud, held-held-high look. Also, when I feel most beautiful, I try to consciously walk taller….
I feel if I walk taller, people stare more. Sometimes I wonder what they are really staring at.
The web shimmered as a gentle wind passed. Translucent. Wondrous. A feat of engineering even in human terms. Yet she couldn’t stand what it represented. Somewhere, near, was the eight-legged engineer. A quick swipe with the long-handled broom, erased her fear.
Translucent, blonde, thinned out hair. She used to be beautiful, but now drugs has so over consumed her life, body, and soul it has effected every faucet of her being.
I think of Pandora in the movie Avatar. I mean the scene when Jake in the forest at night and all of the plants are glowing.
Blood from the thing was eerily translucent as it pooled on the black tar road, reflecting the moon. Slamming down the boot of my car, i jogged back around to the front, bandages in hand, hyperventilating. “Hang in there, just hang in there…” I began wrapping them around the wound. Would bandages even help aliens? I was a human doctor, not an alien one, and alone on a highway at night. My uselessness in the situation made me want to shake myself.
It begins with a T, and so it ends.
Tristan.
My first love. The best one. The last one.
Was it spring or fall when we first met?
Even tought down we fall, I will always stand still
here
for
you
and
only you.
It begans with a t and so it ends. Tristan. My love. The first one. The best one. The last one. Was it spring or fall when I met you? Racing against my pulse I met you, our eyes crossed as if we were not there, as if we were invisible, or perhaps, only translucent.
i wish you were translucent
i wish your skin was as see through as mine
i wish i could see what you’re feeling
see your pulse quicken when you catch my eye
see your breath catch when you touch my hand
but translucent and only translucent
i want a faint glimpse
a vague clue
but even that is better than the silence i get from you
i don’t want everything to show
i don’t ask you to be invisible
i don’t ask for straight, brutal, blunt honesty
i want just enough light to pass through you to show me
anything.
i wonder why sometimes i think and don’t write
sparkled speckled dreams of never was and always mired
despite despise desire the burning rage inside my mind
see through you like translucent spires
church attire
say goodbye to love
never was my love
and can’t bare to, my love
It was almost gone; the color was fading in the thing, and she could do nothing to stop it. It went so fast – going, leaving, fleeing from her.
She felt guilty.
The solidity of it was gone – there was no stability left in it or in her.
They were both translucent.
Everything around me was clear. The walls, the ceiling, even the shackles that bound me to the translucent floor. Everywhere around me, through the clear walls, and under my clear floor, and above me in my clear ceiling, was people just like me. Well…as close to me as they could be. These people were simple citizens, probably accused of something stupid like walking on the grass in a public area (made illegal two years before now), or staring to long at the guards that patrolled our lands. I, on the other hand, was the real criminal. Assassination, what I was trained for since my birth high in the mountains of Walkile, was my accusation. They had no idea how guilty I was…or how much more guilty I was going to be.
i’ve spent years covering my tracks – pulling on veils, layers of clothes, jackets and cotton and wool of all sorts – in hopes of building a wall thick enough to hide myself in. no one sees me if i can’t see them. but a simple shove and you’d see all i’ve tried not to.
She peered through the glass, frowning when she could hardly see anything. After a moment, she rubbed at it with her sleeve, the clothes still heavy and unfamiliar, but it did very little good; she still couldn’t see properly through it. The cloudiness must have been on the other side, or perhaps between the panes of reinforced glass.
He had been working hard all week and he could not wait to get home. He missed Sophie so much, he hated it when his job kept him away from her for so long. It was going to be a long cab ride home from the airport. He was anticipating the smell of her clone or the soft feel of her curves. As he pulled .into the driveway, he noticed all the lights were off, he sighed a disappointed sigh. He dragged he his luggage into the dark house turning on lights as he went. When he finally made it to the bedroom he looked up to notice Sophie wearing nothing but a red translucent bow. He dropped his bags instantly and walked over to her. He gently grab at the end of the bow to untie his present waiting for him. He reached his hands out sliding the bow down her soft supple skin. while he placed his lip against hers and pressed hard using his tongue to separate her lips. She gently moan as her body melted into his arms.
She was translucent in the best way. The kind of girl anyone could talk to, and you know she’d listen. She wore her heart on her sleeve, too – you always knew what she was feeling. But she didn’t let that scare her. She wanted you to know, because she thought life was better that way. More honest. More translucent.
Her eyes were translucent. That’s the only way I can put it. That phrase “The eyes are the window to the soul,” it doesn’t begin to describe the way I lose myself when she looks at me. It’s like the color inside her bleeds through her irises, creating something I’ve never seen the likes of before.
Everything was clear, then everything was clearer. We didn’t know where, exactly, we were going, but that was okay. Everything was clearer, then everything went dark. We were grateful for the windshield and we were grateful for the flies. It’s hard to drive when you can’t see. Everyone knows that. Even with a film of rain across the glass, the road was still there.
The rabbit turned toward him, its upright ears translucent in the early morning light, like twin beacons of sunrise.
as i watched her through the translucent glass
i fell in love with her curvaceous frame and beautiful mane
she was the essence of pure beauty
the epitome of magnificent
her spirit, as she always imagined to be translucent took form–dense–recognizable–tangible–animal-like form and she knew it was all over.
After having sat in the dark for what seemed like weeks, months even, his skin had an almost translucent shine to it. The sun hurt his eyes even through the thick layer of clouds and city smog. He felt sickly, unstable, shaky.
translucent
– I miss the purple! I really do. I missed it when it changed to black. Now translucent… I liked the good o’le days of the light purple. I guess I don’t like change very much (in any area of my life) when I like whatever is already there.
it is very clear. I would like a translucent photo of the flag over Ben’s tat. I feel translucent sometimes and other people are often translucent. The windows are translucent.
Clear, for all to see. The wind blew over the shell lying on the beach. Inside was a pearl of great beauty. Twinkling in the sunlight for all to see through the translucent shell.
I lifted the thin translucent material. So thin between my fingers and yet try as I might I could not manage to even make a scratch on the damn thing.
It’s not transparent, it’s translucent. Quite the opposite of opaque. I remember learning these concepts as a little girl. I love translucent things. It seems to be most used on office glass doors these days. You can see that something is going on but you don’t know exactly what’s happening. Light and shadows, you know?
The veneer of the curtains remained a translucent gold even after the death of Marcil Lewis.
You live in someone’s world, just not the real world.
the people I have cared about the most do not exist anymore