I sat in my room, alone. Crying as your last words rang in my ears, bitter and velvet at the same time. The bite of the goodbye both soothed and intensified by your sensitivity.
he advanced in his meditation. not much depended on him as, like he already knew, he was no one, no one was no one, life is just as a velvet of stories trying to find some sense.
As I walked through the thrift store, my eye caught a scarf, a treasure amidst unappealing things. A scarf, red velvet, that sat there begging to be touched. I reached my hands out and felt the beautiful fabric, awe in my eyes.
your voice was like velvet in my ears. smooth texture of your voice running through my mind at night. It’s more difficult than you know to get you out of my head, and I still can’t admit to myself that I think about you sometimes, and how much I loved your voice brushing against my face.
She smiles down at her lap, clearly pleased and a little embarrassed at the compliment. Through her embarrassment, she fingers the velvet of the chair she’s sitting in – smooth as one rubs it one way, rough as it’s rubbed the opposite way… something she supposes could be said about humanity as well as velvet.
I just wasted 30 seconds trying to think of something profound to say about velvet. And now I’ll waste 60 more trying to follow that statement with something remotely relevant.
Velvet cake. Yum. These girls’ voices are certainly not velvet. Quite the opposite, actually. Full of tense stress, guilt, and brainwashing. Good grief.
my favorite treats are red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese frosting. they’re so fattening, but when they’re available i always sneak at least 2 or 3. i can’t help it- i love the texture, the look, the taste.
I rubbed my face against the soft velvet of the dress with Eithne looking at me as though I were mad. I wasn’t very used to wearing long flowing gowns of thick velvet, but I liked it. It was of a deep green.
Any woman can remember the days of being a little girl decorated in velvet dresses for church plays, fancy dinners and school pictures. Fast forward to becoming a fashionably sensible woman, I just cringe. The only recent thing I’ve owned velvet was the “velour tracksuit” a few years ago when they were popular. My little girl shall not suffer the atrocity that is known as velvet.
color of the skin means nothing in reality of reaction.s it is impossible to react initially on first impressions without follow up on the experience- all humans are a part of your family.
I reached out and stroked the velvet hem of the purple curtains. I was just trying to kill time, finding comfort in the soft fabric. But I quickly dropped it and looked back around the therapist’s office, hoping that no one thought I was crazy for doing that.
It was smooth. Her skin. It was dark and rich and soft. I ran my fingers over it as if it were a plush couch. She bent to me. I kissed her, the softest kiss on her shoulder. Soft, like velvet. She was smooth, under my fingers as
The green velvet looked perfect against my fair skin. As I stood there in front of the mirror, everything finally seemed clear. I was made to be wearing this. This was my dream, my dress, my life. And shouldn’t he notice me for it?
sammet är ett mjk och underbart matertial som ofta är mörkt duvbkått eler möjligten koboltblått eller dimlila och är dekadetn och sexigt att liga och vältra sig på medan man knapara på nygjorda chiokladpraliner
velvet dresses dont go well on velvet church pews. not at all, not that i go to church much- rarely, but dont where velvet dresses. they dont slide- not like satin, or silk.
The velvet sheets glistened in the bright moonlight cast through the open window, shimmering vibrantly as she ran her soft hands across the smooth material.
i hate velvet, the feeling goes through me. nothing in this world thats velvet is ever nice. velvet suits, furniture, and especially lampshades. If they even make such a thing. Im sure they do and it would be truly vile to ever see one.
i don’t know velvet- not more than an acquaintance. it seems nice, seems pleasurable. though i don’t know it well enough to spend the night, to tell stories with. i’d enjoy it for a while, but keeping it around forever isn’t something i’d ever think about.
Velvet crushed couches. That’s what she saw when she walked in. What the hell? Were these people vampires? Seriously. The vampire craze needed to end. Needed to END and just DIE an explodey fiery death in the sunlight of common sense. Just DIE already, she thought.
What is the difference between ‘velvet’ and the stuff pronounced ‘valore’? Are they the same thing? My grandparents once sent my brothers and I velvet blankets that we have to this day. I wonder which one it actually was…
The boy was dead on the side of the road. His brains on the sidewalk and his blood on her shoes. The crushed velvet shirt was matted with dirt, tar, and the remains of a chicken dinner- his last meal.
The velvetine rabbit is one of my favorite books ever. Its rustic and aged. Something about it make me feel like a child still. Even if I do feel years beyond my real age.
Velvet is so ugly. Especially in track suits. I don’t know why we wear it. It is such a common practice to put your young daughter in the ’90s in a part velvet part Christmas floral dress. Ugh. Save us, please!
velvetine rabbit. I love that book its probably my favorite ever. I wish i was still a child dreaming and playing with my toys as I stared up at the ceiling and listening to my parents fight over custody. I miss those days so fucking much. I miss love
It was like velvet beneath his fingers, soft and succulent. Sweet and bitter at the same time. A cloak, but not. What was it? He didn’t know. But he clung to the sultry fabric with all the earnest, endeavoring terror that he felt. She was gone. But this remained. Velvet.
i like lots of dresses, when i was young i would go to church in the summer and my mom made me wear velvet. i sweat on the pews every Sunday. it was hot.
Soft, freedom from the harsh realities every day you face
Flexible and wonderful, pair it with some lace
Create a dress perfect for you
And then go find your glass shoe
I always disliked velvet. I thought it was mildly tacky. I think it’s lovely on staircases and as adornment in households, but as clothing..not so much. I recall seeing a movie once where the main character wore a black velvet dress and looked lovely, but then again…it was an old black and white film.
He had on a purple velvet jacket, like his name was Prince. It wasn’t, but you could tell that he was a prince. That he was there to mesmerize me, and take me away. His arm was bloody and his mom was hovering over him, hysterically. She felt like she failed. Like we all failed him. Because he wanted to go.
I was sitting in the hospital for the same reason, my arm once bloodied in the exact same spot. We had to share a room divided by a curtain; I was heavily medicated and hardly conscious.
I sat in my room, alone. Crying as your last words rang in my ears, bitter and velvet at the same time. The bite of the goodbye both soothed and intensified by your sensitivity.
he advanced in his meditation. not much depended on him as, like he already knew, he was no one, no one was no one, life is just as a velvet of stories trying to find some sense.
As I walked through the thrift store, my eye caught a scarf, a treasure amidst unappealing things. A scarf, red velvet, that sat there begging to be touched. I reached my hands out and felt the beautiful fabric, awe in my eyes.
smooth shiny surface
my velvet revolver is both lethal and a work of art
in beautiful velvet
your voice was like velvet in my ears. smooth texture of your voice running through my mind at night. It’s more difficult than you know to get you out of my head, and I still can’t admit to myself that I think about you sometimes, and how much I loved your voice brushing against my face.
She smiles down at her lap, clearly pleased and a little embarrassed at the compliment. Through her embarrassment, she fingers the velvet of the chair she’s sitting in – smooth as one rubs it one way, rough as it’s rubbed the opposite way… something she supposes could be said about humanity as well as velvet.
I just wasted 30 seconds trying to think of something profound to say about velvet. And now I’ll waste 60 more trying to follow that statement with something remotely relevant.
Velvet cake. Yum. These girls’ voices are certainly not velvet. Quite the opposite, actually. Full of tense stress, guilt, and brainwashing. Good grief.
my favorite treats are red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese frosting. they’re so fattening, but when they’re available i always sneak at least 2 or 3. i can’t help it- i love the texture, the look, the taste.
It’s smooth. It’s soft. It’s like running your fingers through the hair of a god. It’s crushed. It’s Elvis.
I rubbed my face against the soft velvet of the dress with Eithne looking at me as though I were mad. I wasn’t very used to wearing long flowing gowns of thick velvet, but I liked it. It was of a deep green.
Any woman can remember the days of being a little girl decorated in velvet dresses for church plays, fancy dinners and school pictures. Fast forward to becoming a fashionably sensible woman, I just cringe. The only recent thing I’ve owned velvet was the “velour tracksuit” a few years ago when they were popular. My little girl shall not suffer the atrocity that is known as velvet.
red velvet wine intoxication
honeysuckle seduction
only in my deepest dreams
only in my darkest hour
shame me
for i crave you
Velvet painted penis in my pants. It’s turning you on so hard and hot. Eat my tater tot. Please.
color of the skin means nothing in reality of reaction.s it is impossible to react initially on first impressions without follow up on the experience- all humans are a part of your family.
velvet is soft, soft like the cheeks of a new born baby…like the feeling in your heart, right after a warm bath. velvet is.
I reached out and stroked the velvet hem of the purple curtains. I was just trying to kill time, finding comfort in the soft fabric. But I quickly dropped it and looked back around the therapist’s office, hoping that no one thought I was crazy for doing that.
It was smooth. Her skin. It was dark and rich and soft. I ran my fingers over it as if it were a plush couch. She bent to me. I kissed her, the softest kiss on her shoulder. Soft, like velvet. She was smooth, under my fingers as
The green velvet looked perfect against my fair skin. As I stood there in front of the mirror, everything finally seemed clear. I was made to be wearing this. This was my dream, my dress, my life. And shouldn’t he notice me for it?
sammet är ett mjk och underbart matertial som ofta är mörkt duvbkått eler möjligten koboltblått eller dimlila och är dekadetn och sexigt att liga och vältra sig på medan man knapara på nygjorda chiokladpraliner
velvet dresses dont go well on velvet church pews. not at all, not that i go to church much- rarely, but dont where velvet dresses. they dont slide- not like satin, or silk.
The velvet sheets glistened in the bright moonlight cast through the open window, shimmering vibrantly as she ran her soft hands across the smooth material.
i hate velvet, the feeling goes through me. nothing in this world thats velvet is ever nice. velvet suits, furniture, and especially lampshades. If they even make such a thing. Im sure they do and it would be truly vile to ever see one.
i don’t know velvet- not more than an acquaintance. it seems nice, seems pleasurable. though i don’t know it well enough to spend the night, to tell stories with. i’d enjoy it for a while, but keeping it around forever isn’t something i’d ever think about.
Red, Cake. I love the feel of Velvet, smooth sexy, even a little seductive. On skin, in the air, sweet and sensitive.
Velvet crushed couches. That’s what she saw when she walked in. What the hell? Were these people vampires? Seriously. The vampire craze needed to end. Needed to END and just DIE an explodey fiery death in the sunlight of common sense. Just DIE already, she thought.
What is the difference between ‘velvet’ and the stuff pronounced ‘valore’? Are they the same thing? My grandparents once sent my brothers and I velvet blankets that we have to this day. I wonder which one it actually was…
The boy was dead on the side of the road. His brains on the sidewalk and his blood on her shoes. The crushed velvet shirt was matted with dirt, tar, and the remains of a chicken dinner- his last meal.
The velvetine rabbit is one of my favorite books ever. Its rustic and aged. Something about it make me feel like a child still. Even if I do feel years beyond my real age.
her skin melts with yours,
smoother than velvet,
softer than cloud.
you think,
maybe this perfection
could last forever.
Velvet is so ugly. Especially in track suits. I don’t know why we wear it. It is such a common practice to put your young daughter in the ’90s in a part velvet part Christmas floral dress. Ugh. Save us, please!
velvetine rabbit. I love that book its probably my favorite ever. I wish i was still a child dreaming and playing with my toys as I stared up at the ceiling and listening to my parents fight over custody. I miss those days so fucking much. I miss love
It was like velvet beneath his fingers, soft and succulent. Sweet and bitter at the same time. A cloak, but not. What was it? He didn’t know. But he clung to the sultry fabric with all the earnest, endeavoring terror that he felt. She was gone. But this remained. Velvet.
purple. textures. thick clean warm shiny dresses curtains dreams snuggles bubbles gown flowing heavy long draping rolling green emerald .underground shorts colour earthy
sounds violet and delicious
i like lots of dresses, when i was young i would go to church in the summer and my mom made me wear velvet. i sweat on the pews every Sunday. it was hot.
Soft, freedom from the harsh realities every day you face
Flexible and wonderful, pair it with some lace
Create a dress perfect for you
And then go find your glass shoe
CINDERELLA
her skin is soft as satin as it paints fire across my body,
smothering me in lust,
and hopeless adoration.
velvet bliss:
her lips on mine,
breast to breast,
cheek to cheek.
it takes two to tango
I always disliked velvet. I thought it was mildly tacky. I think it’s lovely on staircases and as adornment in households, but as clothing..not so much. I recall seeing a movie once where the main character wore a black velvet dress and looked lovely, but then again…it was an old black and white film.
He had on a purple velvet jacket, like his name was Prince. It wasn’t, but you could tell that he was a prince. That he was there to mesmerize me, and take me away. His arm was bloody and his mom was hovering over him, hysterically. She felt like she failed. Like we all failed him. Because he wanted to go.
I was sitting in the hospital for the same reason, my arm once bloodied in the exact same spot. We had to share a room divided by a curtain; I was heavily medicated and hardly conscious.