don’t think just write, says you? well i shall write of damask and velvet, queens, silky-smooth-soft-skin under your hands, and little soft whispers that sound like the shhhhh of hands whispering of red crushed velvet. i’ll write of the blue dress i saw her wear one day, and the curves ‘too lush for her thin frame’, and how stunning her pale skin looked against it.
write of lost epics, and histories too huge for the ages to comprehend, and all the people who have gone down into the maw of aeons past. the little girls who played with dolls, and teenage boys sneaking away into the forest for breath-held moments with the girls they adored, and girls who went away to be married and live forevermore as a rich man’s lady.
write of the girls who never knew how amazing they could be, and write of the women who now can realise that they were meant to be something greater than everything they’ve dreamed.
It ran across her skin. So smooth. So touchable. She waited for him to come over. They had waited for this moment for what seemed like forever. And it was worth it. They were the non-conformists.
Velvet reminds me of BLue Velvet, afilm that deeply distrubed me. I don’t mind sex in films and I don’t mind violence but when the two are mixed I feel icky and generally don’t like the film. The ear sitting in the grass with bugs on it was also troubling.
I hate velvet. I hate the way it feels. I hate the way everyone else seems to love it. I hate when you rub it one way, it’s one color, and then when you rub it the other way, it’s another shade. I did like the velveteen rabbit though, but I hate how sad it was..
She had Velvet claws, and that is what I remember. And they swam across your face.
And she had eaten worms for breakfast. But they were velvet claws, and it never hurt.
It never hurt I swear.
Blue velvet caressed her face as she walked into the shrouded room. The dark lanterns that circled the oval shaped room gave little light and hid the faces of all those inside. The monks wore dark orange togas, their bald heads gleaming dimly in the weak light and their medallions reflected the light, sending slivers of light across the walls.
*This is the best night of my life.*
His voice was like velvet, floating out across the room, filling the dark corners, touching the ceiling. It spilled into her ears and permeated every inch of her. She’d never felt so alive; she thought her heart might burst from the beauty. Surely she would melt away if he looked at her.
And then he did. And she didn’t. His eyes lingered on hers and she felt him connect. It was so tangible she could almost reach out and touch the line that ran between them.
Promise hung heavy in the air. She knew it was inevitable– somehow, after the show, she would find her way backstage. She would meet him. And maybe they’d be able to put their connection into words.
when i think of velvet i think of when i was younger and used to play dress up with all of my friends. my favoirte was my black velvet pants. i just love the feeling
The velvet cake was moist and juicy, as it entered Jessica’s mouth and made its way down her throat. The cake felt soft against her throat as it slithered down.
Velvet drapes cascading down the 14 foot windows in her castle. She lived here now. And she could close the drapes when she wanted to. But that didn’t stop the visitors from lining up outside to see them.
They were beautiful drapes. Very rare and expensive. And they did their job well. They closed the rest of the world off. And the silence and peace was lovely.
Wrapping the gift. It’s the thought that counts, isn’t it? Velvet is surreal. You could wrap me in sand paper and I would still understand how it feels to long but never hold.
Velvet is..soft? and nice?
and reminds me of rabbits.
cause of that book, the velveteen rabbit or something.
wait i think velvet is that soft stuff..
actually i dont even remember what velvet is
oops.
oh well.
Her lips were like satin as they brushed against the smaller girls neck, her fingers sliding to the place twixt her thighs that had the same light texture as wet velvet. Her gasps soon turned to moans, their legs intertwined, the sheets a tangled heap about the,
His hide is chestnut, but around his eyes, perhaps from age, worn patches have formed. He can be stiff in his hindquarters, but he still has tremendous heart. I always call him my velveteen horse.
Velvet is soft and smooth and a material that I hate. It is the fabric of countless dresses, ribbons, and christmases. It is black and cold and adult. It is my mom’s favorite, but not mine.
How could this toy bring such joy? Nothing but tears and tantrums, for days and nights on end. Nothing would settle her, no words reassure. Then, this little rabbit with a crooked nose and long velvety ears. A few hiccups later and my great grandmother’s smile was like the sun coming out over an un-named road.
Your hand, you dealt it
I grabbed it, I melted
Like velvet, I felt it
The black velvet dress slid smoothly against my skin. It was black as night, the dress by Vera Wang. I blended in perfectly… It’s what I do. :)
Velvet, sleek,
hideous.
I touch you,
velvet, your body.
I cry.
Velvet,
stop, please.
I’ll die.
don’t think just write, says you? well i shall write of damask and velvet, queens, silky-smooth-soft-skin under your hands, and little soft whispers that sound like the shhhhh of hands whispering of red crushed velvet. i’ll write of the blue dress i saw her wear one day, and the curves ‘too lush for her thin frame’, and how stunning her pale skin looked against it.
write of lost epics, and histories too huge for the ages to comprehend, and all the people who have gone down into the maw of aeons past. the little girls who played with dolls, and teenage boys sneaking away into the forest for breath-held moments with the girls they adored, and girls who went away to be married and live forevermore as a rich man’s lady.
write of the girls who never knew how amazing they could be, and write of the women who now can realise that they were meant to be something greater than everything they’ve dreamed.
It ran across her skin. So smooth. So touchable. She waited for him to come over. They had waited for this moment for what seemed like forever. And it was worth it. They were the non-conformists.
Velvet reminds me of BLue Velvet, afilm that deeply distrubed me. I don’t mind sex in films and I don’t mind violence but when the two are mixed I feel icky and generally don’t like the film. The ear sitting in the grass with bugs on it was also troubling.
She wore
Crushed velvet
Jet black
And to the floor…
I hate velvet. I hate the way it feels. I hate the way everyone else seems to love it. I hate when you rub it one way, it’s one color, and then when you rub it the other way, it’s another shade. I did like the velveteen rabbit though, but I hate how sad it was..
cake is beautiful.
She had Velvet claws, and that is what I remember. And they swam across your face.
And she had eaten worms for breakfast. But they were velvet claws, and it never hurt.
It never hurt I swear.
your velvet skin met my fingertips
pull away
pull away
a part of me will always be in love with you
swallow down
swallow down
So smooth as velvet when he speaks. His entire voice melts my soul. I could wear him all day long if i could. He is so smooth.
velvet dress, sweet and pure, pressed purple, buttons down the front, and a flared skirt, oh velvet dress, how i miss me being in you
…on my skin. We all melt into one soft square of velvet. We become all the things in the world that make us whisper.
Blue velvet caressed her face as she walked into the shrouded room. The dark lanterns that circled the oval shaped room gave little light and hid the faces of all those inside. The monks wore dark orange togas, their bald heads gleaming dimly in the weak light and their medallions reflected the light, sending slivers of light across the walls.
*This is the best night of my life.*
His voice was like velvet, floating out across the room, filling the dark corners, touching the ceiling. It spilled into her ears and permeated every inch of her. She’d never felt so alive; she thought her heart might burst from the beauty. Surely she would melt away if he looked at her.
And then he did. And she didn’t. His eyes lingered on hers and she felt him connect. It was so tangible she could almost reach out and touch the line that ran between them.
Promise hung heavy in the air. She knew it was inevitable– somehow, after the show, she would find her way backstage. She would meet him. And maybe they’d be able to put their connection into words.
when i think of velvet i think of when i was younger and used to play dress up with all of my friends. my favoirte was my black velvet pants. i just love the feeling
i love velvet sex. the end.
The velvet cake was moist and juicy, as it entered Jessica’s mouth and made its way down her throat. The cake felt soft against her throat as it slithered down.
Christmas.
I was eight years old, sitting at the dinner table running the edges of my new velvet dress between my fingers.
Christmas.
I was eight years old, sitting at the dinner table running the edges of my new black dress between my fingers.
Velvet drapes cascading down the 14 foot windows in her castle. She lived here now. And she could close the drapes when she wanted to. But that didn’t stop the visitors from lining up outside to see them.
They were beautiful drapes. Very rare and expensive. And they did their job well. They closed the rest of the world off. And the silence and peace was lovely.
Wrapping the gift. It’s the thought that counts, isn’t it? Velvet is surreal. You could wrap me in sand paper and I would still understand how it feels to long but never hold.
Velvet is..soft? and nice?
and reminds me of rabbits.
cause of that book, the velveteen rabbit or something.
wait i think velvet is that soft stuff..
actually i dont even remember what velvet is
oops.
oh well.
magic jackets that fancy men wear with jane austin who is also classy herself, dont you think?
The texture of velvet seems so smooth to eyes, making it look classy in many ways. Velvet black is my favorite of all velvet color or texture
Happy. Black velvet is gorgeous. soft, like in a plushy, nice way. enjoyable. I love the feeling of velvet on a dress in little strips.
velvet rose had been discovered in the pacific island of hawaii.
the velvet texture of black is soothing to the eyes
Her lips were like satin as they brushed against the smaller girls neck, her fingers sliding to the place twixt her thighs that had the same light texture as wet velvet. Her gasps soon turned to moans, their legs intertwined, the sheets a tangled heap about the,
Prince. Latitude. Jimmi hendrix. Soap. Blanket. Alchohol
His hide is chestnut, but around his eyes, perhaps from age, worn patches have formed. He can be stiff in his hindquarters, but he still has tremendous heart. I always call him my velveteen horse.
Sleek, soft, puddy in my hands that makes me smile. Makes me feel comforted. I Think it’s my favorite fabric. Amazing Texture.
gloves are to shine as they come out when things go wrong there’s always a time when things get right again so whenever you’re down remem
Velvet is soft and smooth and a material that I hate. It is the fabric of countless dresses, ribbons, and christmases. It is black and cold and adult. It is my mom’s favorite, but not mine.
425 degrees, and burned so perfectly
i pulled them out and let them cool
frosted & topped them with strawberries
red velvet cupcakes<3
There is nothing tackier than my grandmother’s velvet painting of a Jesus.
soft scratchy soft my cat’s original name until we realized she was really more like velcro than anything else. not my favorite fabric.
we lived in a velvet world. i took a velvet seat and stroked her velvet skin. she kissed my velvet lips and we fell onto the velvet bed..
like the touch of his hair, the sound of his voice, the touch of his skin. i love him and everything that has to do with him.
How could this toy bring such joy? Nothing but tears and tantrums, for days and nights on end. Nothing would settle her, no words reassure. Then, this little rabbit with a crooked nose and long velvety ears. A few hiccups later and my great grandmother’s smile was like the sun coming out over an un-named road.