Velvet is tacky! No one should wear it. But you should make stuff out of it like socks or something. Everyone loves weird socks do freaking do it and make me socks.
soft and sheen placed against our skin we intermingle in it’s glory, feeling closer and closer with each movement we make against its serenity, lie next to me, next to me…
“You’re covered in cat hair,” he informed her merrily, his eyes glittering with amusement.
“Whoever invented velvet slacks was obvious not an animal-person,” she replied, scooting her tabby friend onto her shoulder. “But the interview’s over, so don’t worry about it.”
It looked purple, but the more I stared at it the more my eyes were drawn into the folding darkness. I had to touch it to find out how deep the hole went, but I was surprised instead by overwhelming softness.
I carressed the soft, velvety ears of my old teddy bear thoughtfully. It’d been a while since I’d felt the need for comfort from a stuffed animal, and yet it had always been there for me.
I couldn’t believe it. A velvet dress? What was I five years old? I threw it down in disgust and stomped down the stairs.
“Gram! What the heck is that?” I yelled. My Gram came from the kitchen wiping her hands on a towel.
His skin was velvet smooth. But I’d never liked the touch of velvet; in fact, it always made me cringe. I pulled back quickly, my hand residing back in my lap, a restless bird.
The crushed velvet dress, spread out like a puddle of red blood against the white sheets – stunningly beautiful, haunting, something that I wanted but I knew wasn’t appropriate to want – seemed too good to be true.
My husband watched me as I examined it with narrowed eyes. Even without looking at him, I knew he was smirking. Of course, even without trying, he was being patronizing, supporting his crazy wife’s wishes and desires while masking his inner contempt.
I hated the dress, and I hated him.
“I don’t want it,” I announced, turning away from it and the bed, looking into my closet and letting my hands pass by every article of clothing they encountered.
Velvet Elvis is one of my favorite Weird Al songs. I like the off-beat guitar hits and the clam nature of the song. “My Velvet Elvis means the world to me!!”
the hills looked like velvet, the sun reflecting off of the gentle curves and valleys of the land as it sloped down towards the river. i touched your cheek, and melted into your smile.
These soft, comforting sheets, they are my skin, my outward piece, nothing feels like it ever did. These buttons are fastening, these stiches are tight. The life of a stuffed bear is a tough one!
Softly, the sparrow rose and fell. Buffeted by torential rain, twisted air, and harsh heat, the sparrow seemed ill-suited for its task. Still, it flew.
Through marsh, desert, forest, storm, the sparrow held true to its course.
Multiple times it gave up; and, moments before some event would have caused it’s demise, the sparrow found renewed resolve and rejoined the sky.
Its only true solace was the clouds.
Amidst danger, discomfort, and disillusionment, the clouds were quiet boxes of peace; where every corner appeared to hold a harsh beak or crisp death, the sparrow found the clouds were a home.
A short home, to be sure – too small to simply soar as hawks and eagles, the sparrow could hold its course and hover for only moments … but moments it cherished!
her thighs were like velvet against mine. She felt just right. And then she was gone. The next moment, just gone and as if she were dead non existing …. my life empty and dry
Velvet shoes, he said. The killer wore velvet shoes. That was the moment I knew he was absolutely nuts. ‘Send him back to the clinic’, I said. ‘He’s not useful anymore.’
the touch of his hand is like velvet. and it slides down your cheek and you do not know if you should stop it or caress him in turn. but the velvet is hard and crusted underneath wetness and you cannot revel in the sensation. you must turn, retching, and vomit out his stench, and cleanse yourself of his parasite.
The bakery door jingles. My tastebuds are salivating. Sensations of sugar and bliss swell throughout my jaw. Endless arrays of confectionaries fill my heart with desire and delight. And then I see it. The red velvet cupcake. Lustfully red and too beautiful to eat. I devour. Disappointment sinks in. Artificially red chocolate cake named after a hideous fabric. Desserts are just a tease.
It was soft and made me want to love them more than I ever had and wanted to put my arms around their small wriggly bodies and not let go though they were my sister and brother it was as if they were my own beloved ones and I never wanted to let them feel pain the pain that I had felt in that house on the corner of Lakewood and Jefferson.
velvet is very very soft and normally formal clothes are made out of them and I have a dress made out of velvet. (well it’s my mum’s formal year 12 dress).
velvet. Oh mein Gott. Wo habe ich dieses Wort gehört oder gesehen? Ist das eine Mineralwassermarke? Mit Minzegeschmack vielleicht? Velvet oder ihr werdet es spüren.
velvet underground are so cool i fuckign love them
they remind me of the 70s and i love the 70s
velvet feels really nice too
its so nice and purpley
also jose gonzalez had a song called velveteeen something
it was so nice he signed my poster then
velvet reminds me of violet for some reason, maybe because its violet here too
i dont know why tehy would do that, associate the word to teh color
is my time up yet?
my hand caresses her back and i attempt to untie the velvet bow to her dress. I wanted nothing more than this; the closeness, the intensity, and the immense love that was present. This night was ours and we had enough love to conquer the world.
when I was little I used to carry around a ribbon with me
slipping it between my fingers
rubbing it back and forth
(security blanket)
every month going to the fabric store
eying the bundles and bundles of
velvet, running my fingers across the fabric
being able to choose something that would
without a doubt
comfort me, and
(life was simpler)
you’ve got a velvet tongue that defies my expectations.
i am feeling soft around the edges and you laugh and
tell me that you always speak softly and you open your
teeth wide to show me wide. i don’t have anything to say
because my tongue is made of sandpaper.
When I hear this word, I think of Lucy in the Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe. When she sees Aslan, the lion, she remarks that he has ‘terrible paws. They should be velvet.’ I don’t know what that means, but I that’s what I think of.
As darkness drew around the Castle, she melted into the night. Wrapped in a black velvet cape that camouflaged her from sight. Riding away to meet her love. To leave the pain of the tortured kingdom now over run by her uncles jackles. Now she would be free.
The velvet seemed to go on for days. I lay here on this bed. Darkness. The shackles are made of metal and something fuzzy. It’s cold in the room, but I’m naked. I hear the door creak open and she walks in, stepping with a twitch, carrying a lit candle and a ball gag.
Velvet is tacky! No one should wear it. But you should make stuff out of it like socks or something. Everyone loves weird socks do freaking do it and make me socks.
He never thought off her again after she betrayed him,Her ex-lover tied the velvet rope around her neck while she slumbered,,,dreams she never saw
velvet face is the picture that i see within the frame of the bracket in the house that iop
soft and sheen placed against our skin we intermingle in it’s glory, feeling closer and closer with each movement we make against its serenity, lie next to me, next to me…
“linger on, your pale blue eyes. linger on, your pale blue eyes.”
“You’re covered in cat hair,” he informed her merrily, his eyes glittering with amusement.
“Whoever invented velvet slacks was obvious not an animal-person,” she replied, scooting her tabby friend onto her shoulder. “But the interview’s over, so don’t worry about it.”
It looked purple, but the more I stared at it the more my eyes were drawn into the folding darkness. I had to touch it to find out how deep the hole went, but I was surprised instead by overwhelming softness.
This is a black hole I can cuddle with.
I carressed the soft, velvety ears of my old teddy bear thoughtfully. It’d been a while since I’d felt the need for comfort from a stuffed animal, and yet it had always been there for me.
I couldn’t believe it. A velvet dress? What was I five years old? I threw it down in disgust and stomped down the stairs.
“Gram! What the heck is that?” I yelled. My Gram came from the kitchen wiping her hands on a towel.
today’s mown grass is a velvet throne
sunlight in trees a chandelier
His voice was smooth like velvet. He held her tightly and willed her to agree with his demands. And Dammit! He made a good seductress.
His skin was velvet smooth. But I’d never liked the touch of velvet; in fact, it always made me cringe. I pulled back quickly, my hand residing back in my lap, a restless bird.
The crushed velvet dress, spread out like a puddle of red blood against the white sheets – stunningly beautiful, haunting, something that I wanted but I knew wasn’t appropriate to want – seemed too good to be true.
My husband watched me as I examined it with narrowed eyes. Even without looking at him, I knew he was smirking. Of course, even without trying, he was being patronizing, supporting his crazy wife’s wishes and desires while masking his inner contempt.
I hated the dress, and I hated him.
“I don’t want it,” I announced, turning away from it and the bed, looking into my closet and letting my hands pass by every article of clothing they encountered.
Velvet Elvis is one of my favorite Weird Al songs. I like the off-beat guitar hits and the clam nature of the song. “My Velvet Elvis means the world to me!!”
Silky smooth. A Line of red. Famous people gather around. Laughing and smiles. A night to remember.
the hills looked like velvet, the sun reflecting off of the gentle curves and valleys of the land as it sloped down towards the river. i touched your cheek, and melted into your smile.
These soft, comforting sheets, they are my skin, my outward piece, nothing feels like it ever did. These buttons are fastening, these stiches are tight. The life of a stuffed bear is a tough one!
velvet makes me think of the ocean. dark blue. soft and shiny. it rolls off the tongue. velvet
Velvet. What does this colour look like? I only know the Underground.
velvet, smooth, ever heard of the term tipping the velvet? no? read the book, then you’ll get it…but it may offend some.
Softly, the sparrow rose and fell. Buffeted by torential rain, twisted air, and harsh heat, the sparrow seemed ill-suited for its task. Still, it flew.
Through marsh, desert, forest, storm, the sparrow held true to its course.
Multiple times it gave up; and, moments before some event would have caused it’s demise, the sparrow found renewed resolve and rejoined the sky.
Its only true solace was the clouds.
Amidst danger, discomfort, and disillusionment, the clouds were quiet boxes of peace; where every corner appeared to hold a harsh beak or crisp death, the sparrow found the clouds were a home.
A short home, to be sure – too small to simply soar as hawks and eagles, the sparrow could hold its course and hover for only moments … but moments it cherished!
her thighs were like velvet against mine. She felt just right. And then she was gone. The next moment, just gone and as if she were dead non existing …. my life empty and dry
Velvet shoes, he said. The killer wore velvet shoes. That was the moment I knew he was absolutely nuts. ‘Send him back to the clinic’, I said. ‘He’s not useful anymore.’
A velvet pillowcase was a symbol of extravagance yesterday; today, it is my only possession.
the touch of his hand is like velvet. and it slides down your cheek and you do not know if you should stop it or caress him in turn. but the velvet is hard and crusted underneath wetness and you cannot revel in the sensation. you must turn, retching, and vomit out his stench, and cleanse yourself of his parasite.
The bakery door jingles. My tastebuds are salivating. Sensations of sugar and bliss swell throughout my jaw. Endless arrays of confectionaries fill my heart with desire and delight. And then I see it. The red velvet cupcake. Lustfully red and too beautiful to eat. I devour. Disappointment sinks in. Artificially red chocolate cake named after a hideous fabric. Desserts are just a tease.
It was soft and made me want to love them more than I ever had and wanted to put my arms around their small wriggly bodies and not let go though they were my sister and brother it was as if they were my own beloved ones and I never wanted to let them feel pain the pain that I had felt in that house on the corner of Lakewood and Jefferson.
velvet is very very soft and normally formal clothes are made out of them and I have a dress made out of velvet. (well it’s my mum’s formal year 12 dress).
Velvet signify elegance. This word brings me to the imagination of a beautiful purple velvet gown dancing through the ballroom.
velvet. Oh mein Gott. Wo habe ich dieses Wort gehört oder gesehen? Ist das eine Mineralwassermarke? Mit Minzegeschmack vielleicht? Velvet oder ihr werdet es spüren.
velvet underground are so cool i fuckign love them
they remind me of the 70s and i love the 70s
velvet feels really nice too
its so nice and purpley
also jose gonzalez had a song called velveteeen something
it was so nice he signed my poster then
velvet reminds me of violet for some reason, maybe because its violet here too
i dont know why tehy would do that, associate the word to teh color
is my time up yet?
Velvet carpets set my thoughts on fire. Steamy colour, steamy thoughts. Not necessarily rude but steamy nonetheless.
my hand caresses her back and i attempt to untie the velvet bow to her dress. I wanted nothing more than this; the closeness, the intensity, and the immense love that was present. This night was ours and we had enough love to conquer the world.
I don’t know what it is. I was about to look it in the dictionary, but I forgot. Now, I stumble upon it. I should’ve checked the dictionary.
Black velvet like the song. Which reminds me of that movie with Dakota Fanning. The Runaways. Which reminds me of how cool I wish I was.
when I was little I used to carry around a ribbon with me
slipping it between my fingers
rubbing it back and forth
(security blanket)
every month going to the fabric store
eying the bundles and bundles of
velvet, running my fingers across the fabric
being able to choose something that would
without a doubt
comfort me, and
(life was simpler)
you’ve got a velvet tongue that defies my expectations.
i am feeling soft around the edges and you laugh and
tell me that you always speak softly and you open your
teeth wide to show me wide. i don’t have anything to say
because my tongue is made of sandpaper.
When I hear this word, I think of Lucy in the Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe. When she sees Aslan, the lion, she remarks that he has ‘terrible paws. They should be velvet.’ I don’t know what that means, but I that’s what I think of.
As darkness drew around the Castle, she melted into the night. Wrapped in a black velvet cape that camouflaged her from sight. Riding away to meet her love. To leave the pain of the tortured kingdom now over run by her uncles jackles. Now she would be free.
The velvet seemed to go on for days. I lay here on this bed. Darkness. The shackles are made of metal and something fuzzy. It’s cold in the room, but I’m naked. I hear the door creak open and she walks in, stepping with a twitch, carrying a lit candle and a ball gag.