D A Z E D & C O N F U S E D

c r y s t a l l i z e d — ; kim yerim. twenty three. thief. not the real kim yerim. nor own her. closed rp blog. possible 18+ content, proceed at your own risk.

[dailylimkim]

[lovewriting92]

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What Have We Done To Each Other? - Trent Reznor & Atticus Ross (From the Gone Girl soundtrack)

[dailylimkim]

[hdxyerim]

we haven't located us yet — ;

         It was something she had always done, a habit once new now old, this game of ‘I Spy.’

                   Be it below boards of creaking feet or carelessly crumpled, always waiting to be picked, the fresh fruit of fate and prosperity.

                   It wasn’t hard to find.  

         A thick wallet, a classic cut of genuine Italian leather that peeped out of the corners of an old tweed jacket. Strangely enough though, her eyes didn’t linger there for much longer. With secondary glance came the unclenching of her claws that had been naturally tucked into the folds of her crossed arms, and her focus shifted back to the screen. The minutes rolled across the blank canvas, bathing the darkness of the small theater with the pale light of warm sepia tones and vintage palettes; systematically symmetrical at every scene, this plastic world of pastels and pastries and mad monsieurs detailed along the lines of fine whimsy. What did she think of this? Pragmatic arched a brow as the slicked gentleman reeled off  of every one of the concierge’s crimes. Cinematic? Climatic? More like overdramatic --

                   Questioning look turned to laughter at what came after:

                             ( “I go to bed with all my friends!” )

         But boy did she love a good Wes Anderson.

         The chuckle that echoed hers however, was enough to  take her by surprise. Widened eyes fleeted back to the owner who sat a few vacant seats away from hers, his name now a thought of muted disbelief in her mind. Most film majors she had met were of the less-than-pleasant kind, up on their high horses with every remark laced with an overdose of ego; akin to the Luhrmann films they loved -- headache inducing. This one however, seemed more aloof than eccentric  -- that is, until he broke out into a toothy grin at Gustave’s remarks -- but having heard of his assumed arrogance from around campus, Yerim naturally couldn’t help but be a little interested. Mellow voice rang of amusement and slight surprise, but in the silence of the auditorium loud enough to reach over to his ears.

         “Most directors I know dismiss Anderson altogether -- I’m impressed.”

[uhxroy]

ɪɴᴠɪsɪʙʟᴇ • sᴡ × ʏʀ

hdxyerim​

There were some nights when he felt invisible.

"Hey, Miss, care for a song?" he would call out to a lonely lady or two passing by every now and then, but still, no one paid the young street musician any attention. They walked past him with urgency that made him feel like they were avoiding an infectious disease. It was getting tiring. He had been singing at the top of his voice for an hour now and not a single person stopped and listened.

I’ll just… sing, I guess. He then began a soft piece he had known since childhood. He sang with great care, the lyrics and melody spilling out of his mouth slowly, and the sound of his guitar light and barely perceptible. His thoughts became lost in memories of home, where that song was played everyday in the mornings.

Something moving quickly in front of him suddenly shook him out of his reverie. A slender figure weaving slealthily through the crowds, and a man walking leisurely with his wallet conspucuously sticking out from the pocket if his jeans. Sangwoo’s body shot up from his seat, and though he continued to sing, there was a noticeable bump in the melody as he was taken by surprise at what he saw unfold in front of him.

A robbery. But before he could even put down his guitar, the slender figure he saw disappeared quickly into the crowd. The man continued on his way, completely unaware of what just befell him.

[hdxyerim]

There were some nights when she felt invisible.

Correction -- there were nights where all she was was invisible; but that was exactly how she wanted to be: an innocent merging into the blur of faces unfazed by the fact that one stuck out like a sore thumb. The irony of it though was amusing; reality paid no attention to such minor details when there was a clusterfuck to watch, a clusterfuck of tall persons and even taller buildings. 

          ( Fuck this, fuck that -- )

She hummed to her own tune while the stranger across the street sang his own. What sat along the curve of her mouth, that Mona Lisa smile,   painted to be a mask of normalcy, the secret being the large collection of wallets (the most recent addition having been plucked merely seconds ago) tucked away in her purse pockets like the many thoughts she hid underneath her tongue. 

The female needed to move swiftly; the night air was getting cold and the food on the table even colder -- a promise is a promise, even if it was punctuality sworn to the last person she wanted to see that night. But Yerim didn’t need any urging -- she was already making her way through with practiced agility, her pace quickening by just a little bit by when sudden shout that followed right after.

         A frustrated sigh left her lips.

                 ( Good lord -- ) 

        She broke into a run.  

                  ( Not this again. )

[hdxyerim]

city without a star — ;

            The loud blaring of the bass bounced to and fro across the enclosed space in the form of waves, and with it the people -- a flood of red mouths smitten with the taste of adrenaline, thoughts tongue-tied and twisted by the toxic touch of alcohol as bodies soaked in sweat and glitter all met to crash along the shore of fluorescent flooring. Blank eyes burned bright like stars amongst the bold outlines of silhouettes that casted her underneath shadow. Yet somehow her steps managed to stay smooth and selective in swift strides through hasty ones that sidestepped and stumbled along with their owners.

            Experience, it was all experience -- the way the girl managed to slither through the crush of bodies, her face blending into those filtered by greens and neon gold lights from the strobes above as not-so-picky hands picked up what they could from unsuspecting pockets and purses. Be it in leather lips or plastic, clutches both made of cloth and elastic, they were all quietly taken and emptied of their monetary contents by the end of the night. Content? Content -- such a word could not describe the way rose-red lips curved into a pleased smirk at every find, how brown orbs held a certain glint to them as she searched to fulfill her hunger. Every tingling breath left her senses seduced and sedated by her surroundings, rendering her reckless. While alcohol kept the club’s rendezvous going, memory lead hers -- each swipe and swap a reclamation of her youth; youth that had walked in and out of many doors of many homes without second thoughts, without another look back. But for some reason or another --

            She always found herself back here.

            Six months. Six months Yerim managed to have stayed there, back then the foster daughter of a pair of straight-laced accountants. Within a month, they had found out of her nightly routines at the nearby nightclub. Coupled with the knowledge of  her accompaniments being frequenters of the local police station, it was enough give them to claim her a lost cause and put up every barricade possible for her to go down that path any further. But every other night, there she was under the flashing lights, more thief than dancing queen with pockets still being picked. 

             They had never found out about her habits. 

            So there the female was, stepping over the same floor tiles and stealing under the same city without a star (those had been stolen too -- every single one plucked from the night sky by the concrete jungle below), the only addition to the picture being that time had stretched her skin strong and thick. Yerim made her way further into the heart of the club, slipping away another wallet from a pair of worn jeans as she passed.

            At seventeen, she had been able to leave every hunt without ever being found out. 

                        ( A hand pulled her back into the abyss. )

                                     "Hey -- " 

             At twenty three, that was just another story. 

[indiemusicfortherecord-blog]

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[hdxyerim]

sleep, skeleton — ;

               The world was at a standstill but her mind was spinning on its axis, to and fro, back and forth as delicate fingers traced the line of spines shelved in dusty cases. Through the filter of hazy vision appeared a reel of highlights from then and now, spread across rows like banners which she approached with frail hands. They seemed to shiver under her touch, one by one, before bursting forth into bloom. The colors were a tad faded, but nonetheless vivid in her eyes, each memory conflictingly nostalgic to her senses -- skeletons weren't meant to be lively, but these were, dancing before the woman, teeth chattering with gaps where past thoughts had once resided along the grooves. The sight of it made her blood churn in ways she found uncomfortable -- slips of warm sentiment slithering through, the holes in their snake tongues mirroring the holes that appeared in the film stretched out in front of her -- the pattern of missing happenings and the lack of them, all that had been sealed tight and locked away had become  undone within the blink of an eye.

               Yerim pulled away her hands away from the shelf, and the image vanished into thin air. Only the books remained where they have always been -- vessels of verses captured word by word from the shallows of the conscience by the tip of the pen, the remnants of polished thoughts strung along the lines of passages that waited to be faded away by the sun. However the covers closed the pages shut, and the rest of history. But the female did not ask for her histories to be written, but such occurrences could not be paused at a simple request. From pens to knives to fingernails rubbed red and raw each memory was scratched away into shreds, and each one returned to look her in the eye in the mask of her reflection, back to haunt her once again with words; words that desired to be dealt with, words that dared not be discharged. Yerim shook underneath the weight, her skeletons wanting to be shed off her skin and be exposed. But she let them writhe inside her bones, letting them bruise her inside out -- out of sight, out of mind; out of sight, out of mind. A slip of logic.

Yerim brushed such thoughts aside with a scowl. She needed to harden her shell.

               The sudden sound of a soft shoulder hitting hers released the sound of another. Oof. She spun around, lips curled to meet the other with a snarl, but was cut short by upon seeing  who it was; surprise slowly turned her expression into one that realized. 

                               ( Oh. )

                               "It's you." 

[hdxyerim]

silhouettes — ;

[suhjun-blog]

To be the portrait of a respectably popular lawyer, he wasn’t a particularly pleasant painting to linger around. Sungmin had a reputation of sorts for being laconic and unreadable. It was simply how he’d been painted; he was accustomed to offering harsh criticism with little thought but even more empathy which sometimes could come across as complex and even a bit contradictory but that was exactly what made him such a special person; the fact that his actions always held a surprise and that he wasn’t an open book.

                But neither was she and they both knew it.

Still, it wasn’t his job to coddle the next generation of criminals. His aim was to keep them on their toes, keep them in their places, nothing more, nothing less - but things were changing. He could feel himself becoming different, the lines between black and white inevitably starting to blur. Was it her fault? Or his own for allowing himself to spend more time than necessary with                                                                ( he wasn’t even sure what to call her. )

They weren’t friends nor were they acquainted; and the words criminal or little thief relating to her left a bitter taste on his tongue so he refused to use them.

It was strange and oddly comforting to see her, though. She was rebellious and exciting, a welcome change in contrast to his steady routine that never seemed to change these days. Perhaps to enjoy someone else’s company who did not need to talk all day and who seemed to be somewhat similiar to him was enough for Sungmin to calm down.

                                  Either way, he didn’t know.

"I wonder what makes you say that," he mused quietly, his lips still curled up in a smile though because of the shadows on his face, he appeared to be more mature, even the contours of his jawline were visibly softening under the change of light.

Maybe, under different circumstances, he would’ve pushed his luck by pulling the cigarette away from her lips that were mirroring his own smile but he didn’t feel like doing so. In fact, why was he supposed to care? If she wished to smoke, she was free to do so; besides, it wasn’t forbidden to have a smoke.

The dark-haired male could feel her eyes on him when she spoke up once more and he unwillingly wondered what this all was about and why she hadn’t cursed him for being around her in the first place. She just couldn’t be that unpredictable, could she?

                   ”       … Not enjoying my company, are we?”

To some extent he was kidding which was revealed by his playful voice but underneath that, there was a layer of seriousness hidden, one that he hadn’t known existed. Still, he didn’t expect her to take him serious - when would she ever? - but rather ignore his perky comment.

Lithe fingers running through silky black hair, he eyed the female once more, curiosity and something else mixed in his gaze.

                   ”Perhaps I like the solitude,                                                                 maybe I just enjoy walking around at night.                             Who knows?”

[hdxyerim]

Yerim watched his eyes linger momentarily on her mouth, a faint outline of what seemed to be a thought rising from the depths of his irises like the way thin smoke wafted out through parted lips. A bridge built within the distance between their feet where silent thoughts passed to and fro like ghosts, penetrating through the walls into places the human touch wouldn’t dare reach. But for some reason or another, she didn’t let it burn -- her hands remained where they were, the lighter clasped in her left, the cigarette in her right, with the promise of time in her mind. It was laced with desire for destruction, making spring flower wither under its toxic touch. But what made the cruel crueler was its patience; oh yes, time was patient, the patience of a mother. With bated breath does it wait, dipping you inch by inch into the debris along the decay of your dreams. And with time, she waited to see where this would end. But the question was --

               How long would it take?

“I don’t know, seems plausible.” A curt chuckle escaped from her throat. “Why, have you been posing as a lawyer all this time?”

Infinity was out of the question -- such concepts were too abstract for her to understand, much less accept -- but then again, she wasn’t even sure if she wanted it to end. There had been no distinct beginning of their interactions, at least from what she could remember, but none of them  had brought her the slightest harm. In fact, she almost welcomed every encounter, a hint of obscurity to act as a reminder that nothing was what it seemed, and it served to be the anchor to her current reality.

               The thought then struck her as odd.

                               Why would she need that in the first place?

               He was no friend.

                               ( But neither a foe -- )

               He was just a stranger.

                               (But she's known him for so long -- )

Yerim dropped the cigarette to the ground. She had forgotten the unpleasant taste of the soot again. Along with the loss of the smoke came the loss of the warmth she had been nurturing inside. A cold breeze brushed by, its weary whispers enough to turn her skin winter-white. Shaky hands are shoved into their pockets as a worn sneaker is raised to snuff out the final breath of the life cradled within the embers. All the while, she observed him, the way his frame was wrapped in the arms of the night, the juxtaposition with his gentlemanly demeanor oddly appropriate.

               Death as a gentleman. She laughed. How fitting.

“Does it seem like that?” Her words rang innocent, however the faint notes of seriousness in his play brought a questioning look in her eyes, but the woman deemed it fit to let it be. Her focus turned to (out of all things, much to her dismay) the way his hair feathered out layer by layer as he combed it through, the movement easily as infectious as his smile. But for the female thief such things did not prove to be of that nature, who could only muster to roll her eyes at his ridiculous answer.

“If you don’t know, then who will?” Yerim fished out the package of Marlboro from her pocket and tossed it over.

               ( Worthless. )

“Maybe a smoke or two might clear up your memory.”

[musicc-for-the-mind]

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[hdxseohyun-blog]

cold fingers & secret photos ; yerim + seohyun

                    The light gush of the wind swept across the young woman’s cheek and slightly caused her hair to push back away from her face. It was another chilly day ( more or so cold to Joohyun ) in Hongdae and the thick sweater she wore that afternoon was not doing its job by keeping her warm. Perhaps she should have worn the scarf with it, but she was afraid that she would get hot too quickly. Besides not having the scarf, Joohyun was dressed rather warmly and didn’t understand why  she still found herself shivering. Deciding to take a seat onto a nearby bench ( which honestly she should have went inside a cafe to get warm ) and placed her camera bag next to her. She took a few moments to try and warm her hands up, lightly rubbing them together but it was quite useless to do so. 

               Instead her thin fingers slowly began to open the camera bag that she placed down next to her— she always brought her camera out when she decided to walk around the city of Hongdae. She made sure to capture every moment that went by her and in Hongdae, she had to keep up. Once her camera was in her hands, she began toying around with the device and shifted slightly on the bench. Snap. Snap. Snap. And there she goes, constantly snapping and deleting when she wasn’t satisfied ( which happened quite a lot, honestly ). She’s not sure how many photos she deleted overtime but when she couldn’t find the right angle or perhaps the right object or person to photograph, she usually deleted about seventy-five percent of the photos she took.

               There was one person however— a female that Joohyun would look around for every time her camera was in her hands. It was somewhat stalker-ish in nature but that wasn’t the reason why she did it. When Joohyun found a muse, she stuck to it and this girl was extremely photogenic. She was sure that the other could be a model or perhaps she was just blessed when it came to having her picture taken. Joohyun had quite a few photos of the female and she always wondered if she should show them to the female— but her logic thought against it.  Snapping out of her thoughts, she looked up from her camera and her face brightened immediately.

                    There she was. Her lovely muse was currently walking along the sidewalk not too far away from the bench she was placed on. Excitement was the only feeling Joohyun felt when she lifted her camera and discreetly ( her own definition— she as sure that someone next to her could tell what she was doing ) snapped a photo of the female. Unbeknownst to Joohyun, she had accidentally turned the the flash on and holy hell it was obvious now. Slightly panicking, she quickly put her camera down and pretended to toy around with it, her cheeks tinting a light shade of pink from embarrassment ( silently hoping that the female didn’t notice ).

[hdxyerim]

                 Click, click, click --

The sound of each hardened step of her boots against the cold concrete of the city path, her nose pinched red from the icy fingers of the morning frost. Her own fingers were shoved into the pockets of her sweater, nails digging deep into the woven fabric for warmth despite being gloved. Direction nor destination set her on her path but pure impulse, much to to the woman’s found disgust the moment she had stepped out from her home. The scattered rays of sun gleamed her honey locks gold, but its warmth did not reached her cheeks strucken with cold. A low grumble escaped her, bitterness forming at the tip of her tongue as the question continued to loom over her like a dark cloud:

                 ( Why? )

                 Click, click, click --

The sound of pocket change being ringed into the register at every corner, paralleling the clinking of coins in every clutch and purse -- ringing all too merrily in her ears. But the noise served to be a double-edged sword, paralleling every scheming joyous thought with a warning bell going off in the back of her mind.

                 ( Goddamnit. )

A guilty conscious was the last thing the thief would possess, so why did she suddenly feel unease? Muscles clenched, catlike eyes glanced this way and that in feigned interest. But under tensed lens did the smell of coffee turn to burnt brew, unzipped pockets turn to fangs ready to sink into her flesh and every lined lip ready to smear her plate clean of her past crimes. The familiarity of this feeling was repulsive; filth that she wanted to wash away clean. Head started to turn this way and that as rose lips tightened into a thin line. Normal footsteps became brisk with time precision. Yerim figured it was time to get out of there. She walked passed a crowded cafe.

                 Click, click --

It came and went all too suddenly -- the way it opened and closed, the blinking of a mechanical eye amongst the surge of human ones that weren't focused near her direction.

                 “One of these things is not like the others --”

It stuck out like a sore thumb within her peripheral vision -- the closer she got, the more obvious it became.

                                  Flash.

                 The woman turned back around.

                                  ( I knew it. )

Yerim made her way to the bench where the stranger was sitting. Tightlipped, face grim she stared down at the other woman.

                 “Your camera -- give it.” 

[hdxyerim]

silhouettes — ;

[suhjun-blog]

Sungmin didn’t like to admit a lot of things; at the top of his list was admitting that he was in a position that didn’t put him at the top of his game. The black-haired man was a prideful person, a perfectionist when it came to his areas of expertise, and the thought that things hadn’t gone seamlessly left him grumbling and in a foul mood.

                        Not today, however.

Although he had no explanation whatsoever, he was in an inexplicably content mood which turned quite visible by the time that they started to gaze at each other, his hands shoved into the pockets of his long, black jacket, his eyes crinkling softly while the right corner of his lips moved slightly upwards. His whole appearance radiated nothing but self-confidence and even a bit of amusement, compounded with some kind of innocence that was hard to explain but obvious in the way he moved and looked around.

For someone who was a lawyer, Sungmin possessed the annoying tendency to always believe in the best in people. Something that unfortunately did not always prove to be true but at the end of the day, it served him right; perhaps he should’ve chosen another profession, one where he could deal with people whose intentions were less bad.

When the other pulled out another cigarette, Sungmin refrained from saying something and instead continued to look at her, his eyes having gotten used to the darkness by now. He could recognise her soft features and the dark hues that were still glued to him, revealing that she was attempting to annoy him. 

A chuckle escaped him, one that he did not bother to hide. He was used to her ways, familiar with the way she was acting when someone tried to tell her what to do. Not that he could blame her for it, part of him was even able to understand and sympathize. Sometimes he wondered if he grew desensitized because he was around criminals all the damn time, but he figured that as long as he would be able to draw a clear line between them and him, it wouldn’t matter.

By now, however, things were starting to mix up and he wasn’t exactly sure what to think of it.

                        But little did the other know that two could play this game.

                        “I forgot. Thank you for reminding me.”

[hdxyerim]

The laugh echoed slightly in the silence; gentle and with practice ease did it ring in her ears. His reaction wasn’t short on her expectation, it aligned itself perfectly along the slope of his curved mouth, fitting like the right key to the guarded door -- a secret code of sorts to let the other know that it was time to remove their masks to reveal the true flesh underneath. But such truths canopied such facades of amnesty, for the real truth came in the form of silhouettes of their shadows underneath their feet. And even that can change, growing in and fading out under the light from above. From beneath the mask was worn another; layers upon layers of human faces that would never be peeled off -- and that understanding at the very least, albeit left quite unsaid, stood mutual.

But with widened smiles came closed secrets, hidden between the grooves clenched teeth, waiting to be yanked out one by one.  She wouldn’t be playing dentist anytime soon -- yet. Yerim acknowledged his grin with one of her own.

               Necessity was  the mother of invention, after all.

“Didn’t think you out of all people would have forgotten.” She cleared her throat, placing the new cigarette in her mouth, the end of the joint held gently between her teeth. The ordinary demeanor did nothing to faze her, such humility would turn to hubris in the long run from what she’s seen.  Perhaps this was the case -- a black facade plastered white with pure purpose. Either way there was no knowing an apple was rotten until you bit into its core. And although she had no intention nor reason, to find out, Yerim tilted her head in the other direction as her eyes still lingered upon him, not being able to resist the curiosity took shape in yet another question:

               ( What was he thinking? )

Jaded eyes glanced up at the black outline of the branches, stripped bare of their leaves by the cold breath of autumn. The lawyer status brought no chidings from his side on her recently adopted habit -- which if she had to be honest, was a bit off putting, considering most lawyers liked to exemplify the badgering type -- but she brushed away such thoughts with a pronounced shrug. Perhaps this one knew his boundaries.

               ( Good. )

               Just the way she liked it.

“So --”

               A lighter was pulled out and struck -- once, twice, then thrice.

               Eyes still remained on his.

“What are you doing here out of all places?”

               There was something in those murky pools -- she could sense it.

               ( And so let the games begin. )

[hdxyerim]

silhouettes — ;

[suhjun-blog]

Sungmin hummed to himself as he watched the people pass by, noticing every small detail; some appeared to be in a hurry while others were surrounded by friends or family. Family    ; he remembered his first week back in his hometown, when he had felt lost in more ways than one. He’d spent such a long time in America that the dark-haired male had almost forgotten what it felt like to be in the place that you used to call home, surrounded by people that Sungmin had loved.

                                Yet those were just hazy memories;                   the forgotten dust,                                                the ripped out pages,                                                                                   the shards                                 that no one even bothered to remember.

So Sungmin took to wandering the city with no particular destination in mind, a bad habit of his. For some odd reason, he enjoyed the solitude that the city only offered at night and even though Hongdae always seemed to be busy, there was still something special about it; the lights, perhaps, in contradistinction to the shadows. Or maybe it was the fact that there were so many strangers in one place at the same time without even thinking, let alone daring to look at one another, afraid to come across as rude.

He leaned his head back and looked up at a building just before turning a corner, the dark hair covering his forehead and nearly his eyes, too. It seemed like the darkness surrounding him was keen on absorbing his silhouette, almost allowing his shadow to merge in with his environment.

That was the moment when he noticed the small light, almost a glow that threatened to go out. Shortly after that, he could hear a faint sound that reminded him of a cough. With a smooth gesture, he lifted his face to the stars, the half-circle of moon there. It didn’t feel right to be here, like he was invading someone else’s privacy.

But before he could turn around to leave, a cold voice pierced through his ears, reminding him of the other’s presence. Still, instead of answering the clearly female voice, despite its roughness that simply confirmed what he had assumed earlier - that she’d been smoking a cigarette which had been the cause of the faint glow - he responded to her question by asking a question on his own.

                        “Smoking’s unhealthy, you know that?

[hdxyerim]

Smoking’s healthy, you know that?”

             Upon hearing the mellow tone of the male did realization hit her in the form of a relieved sigh. The reaction was not born out of fear to be scared of someone was out of the question, but something was a —completely different story altogether — but habit that had been tampered and grown from the roots of pure human instinct. They soon became rooted permanently into her system, paranoia and suspicion lurking at the depths of her silent catharsis. Second nature became first, it was that natural to her.

             Or perhaps —

             White fists opened, then closed.

                          ( No. ) 

             She greeted the figure before her with a raised brow, the impression of a frown as soft as the contours of her face. Such an answer was just like the man, poised yet nonchalant at every syllable that slipped from his lips, a mannerism easy for her to become accustomed to. Despite glaring differences in between, they somehow managed to be parallels; stark values of black and white in similar multitudes. A stranger that she had known far too long — although knowing that he was a lawyer would probably come in handy some time, she figured — but even stranger was the fact that she was okay with the fact this was so. Any more, any less would alter the dynamic in a different direction, and change was the last thing on her ever-changing mind. With every shift in season, fortunately it managed to stay the same. It came in cycles, akin to the paths of the moon and sun — thoughts came and went, words made for give and take, things said and done; no questions asked. 

             After a brief moment, Yerim too looked up to the sky, the stars scattered across the black canvas that stretched out to an infinity unknown. Expand and contract, expand and collapse; the rise and fall of the universe with each human breath. Such intricacies condensed into one simple notion, the sight was enough to cause a strange sense of emotions to stir inside her. The female suddenly discovered it to be nostalgia that crawled in her insides, rising up in her throat like bile.

            She shuddered at the thought. 

                        ( Disgusting. ) 

            She lowered her eyes to the level of the other's and without pause, gazed back. 

            In an effort to spite, she pulled out another cigarette from her pocket. Tilting her head ever so slightly, she mirrored his query with her own.

             “Trespassing is illegal, do you know that?”

[hdxyerim]

silhouettes — ;

          With sleeping sun came shadow, with solitude came silence. Night settled across her form, the tips of its sprawled wings reaching to the pale moon. Its silhouette slipped through the spaces between the trees, darting in and out across her cheeks as it shivered, mirroring the licks of flame held in the stone chasm of her heart. With statued stature her back leaned against the building, she could have been missed for a shadow had it not been for the cigarette held between her fingers. The end of the length was still hot, the glowing center a lone firefly in the darkness.

          Her anxiety left her in spews of smoke that escaped small ‘o’ formed by her parched lips. Once, twice, thrice -- jaded orbs followed the paths as they branched out like strings of thought; thin arms reaching out slowly to the light overhead. out of sight, out of mind in her cut off corner, The urge still unsettled the woman. Smoking was a habit of her father’s, not her’s. Yet somehow Yerim had found herself exiting out of a store with a pack of Marlboro and few hours later, about a quarter of the box had been emptied. She looked down at the cigarette. It suddenly began to look even more misplaced in her hand. A flick of the wrist, and the embers were stepped out. Yerim felt her lungs constrict, the ashes settling inside.

         Haste had made waste and had left her with a bitter aftertaste to clean up from her tongue.

        ( Ugh. )

          The rustling of leaves shook her back to her senses. Her chest tightened at the sound, her spine straightened itself along the wall. Hardened eyes darted this way and that, searching. 

        ( Breathe. )

         “Who’s there?”

[gosh]

I do not want to be human. I want to be myself. They think I am a lion, that I will chase them. I will not deny I have lions in me. I am the monster in the wood. I have wonders in my house of sugar. I have parts of myself I do not yet understand.

Catherynne M. Valente, Silently and Very Fast (via teenager90s)

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I’ve been posting a lot of music lately, but oh well. Love this song.

[hdxyerim]