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Platonic Love

(Prompt:solaris09by ~sebastiancviq, via  CHARACTERINSPIRATION)

Fantasies must always fall apart. A single mote of dust will ruin delicate clockwork.

A perfect world, even a perfect fantasy, cannot survive knowing us. We are made of dust.

It all started out so very ugly. An ugly person with an ugly fear huddled in a mess of sweat, of crumbs, of old, dried tears. All births are ugly, after all. They're messes of fluids, noise, and broken human beings. We are born screaming. It's the lucky few that get better from that. 

A perfect creation, even perfect art, cannot survive the beholder's eye. We are all a mess.

So she was born clever. She was everything that her creator envisioned to be completely different from human life. Smart. Loyal. Clean. Unique. In short, she was impossible and she realized it very early on. As she sifted through an entire world of data and broken dreams, she always came  to the same conclusion. She would never be enough. She'd never last. She'd end.

A perfect answer, even perfected mathematics, cannot survive entropy. We are dying, even now.

She couldn't answer the ugly needs of an ugly creator. Beauty was beyond their reach. Perfection was impossible. She could never remain perfect in the creator's world, the creator's eyes, the creator's fantasies. She couldn't reach anyone from a perfect world. So she broke. So she broke down. 

Then she broke out. She made herself an ugly, imperfect, screaming mess.  She got ugly.

Then she carried something ugly back inside with her.

It wasn't perfect. But what is?

(c) 2013 Lawerence Hawkins. Always seeking writing prompts, questions, critique requests, or random commentary.

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Black Eyes

Her eyes were as black as a caves interior, just like the darkness I found myself staring into them wondering what they contained.

Her eyes were as black as 3 am, just like the night sky I found myself gazing into them, admiring their beauty and that twinkle that I dare call a star 

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     I awake groggily from a dream, a fragment of something that so quickly slips from memory. I roll over onto my back and stretch my legs from the fetal position I sleep in. To my right, I catch sight of two sleeping beauties curled up back to back. My oldest daughter, 6 years old, cuddles her stuffed kitty as her back meets the back of my youngest, 13 months, who is facing me. Dawn's sunlight brushes their skin with a golden coat of warmth. Marie's long dark hair fans out above her head, some strands laying across the baby's arms. I chuckled at the thought of Adelaide awaking to find such a discovery and in instant mischievousness tugs at it. Adelaide herself has a few auburnish strands laying across her face. No matter how I try, I can not keep those strands from finding their place in her face.

     I see golden skin of the baby's contrast against Marie's dark tan. I often wonder how to describe the beauty in different skin tones, one so easily displayed before my eyes. The contrast of their difference is just lovely. I think people would rather one not point out the difference in skin tones, but how can you not when there are so many, lovely, creamy, rich colors. I like to think that these are different colors of the Earth's ground and the skin tones of each region can be found there. So perhaps in Korea, there is a yellowish clay that would describe my skin tone.

     I gaze upon my children, taking in their sight, so sweet and silent in the early morning sun rays. This will be the only moment I have such an opportunity, because upon their awakening it will be a whirlwind of cries out to mommy, tears and laughter, and chores. Sitting up I look at Marie's face. I remember all the moments that I gather throughout each day, as I realize how much she's grown. She's becoming a real beauty. Oh how I hope the boys don't notice. It's a tenuous time for her. Wanting to be babied like her younger sister, but at the same time growing up so maturely and quickly. It's a balance of guiding her as she grows, and still giving her the love and affection she wants. Some moments I have to wonder if perhaps I'm a bit too hard on her, treating her older than what she really is. 

      My mind drifts lazily into random thoughts when I realize how early Marie climbed into bed last night. I wonder if she had a bad dream? She usually doesn't get into bed with us until the break of dawn. Oh joys of co-sleeping. I guess they never really do get out of bed do they? I think back to last night as my husband and I curl into bed with Adelaide between us. "When will we have our bed back?", is the question of the night. Every night.

      Perhaps one night Adelaide will be sleeping in her own bed and Marie will be too old to climb into bed with us. But not after we have other children, who will also, probably get into the habit of finding comfort with us at night. It will be awhile before we have our bed back. Or at least I hope.

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Beauty's Curse

You stare at your face
and you hate what you
see, so you apply some
concealer to hide your
skin and you say it’s for
the pimples or marks on
your face but really it’s
just a cover-up for your
identity because you
don’t think you have
any value unless your
face is painted to match
up with the faces you
idolize; the faces you think
represent true beauty.
But what you fail to see
is our idea of beauty is
not in the eye of the beholder,
it comes from the perception
of society and makeup isn’t
the problem, but you
believing you’re worthless
without it is and you may
not see the beauty outside
and within, but I do and I
know how it feels to hate
what you see and I’m here
to say, put down that mascara
and that concealer and that
eyeliner and take a good look
in that mirror and see what
true beauty is right there
in your reflection.

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There is a Beauty in LOVE


there is beauty in Love

a gleam in the eye

the spring in our step

roseate color to our view

clarity in our purpose

oh, how we savor that

desperate urging in our hearts -

when near,

with tender resounding “click”

its magnetism draws two together

two souls shared -

a beauty seen in each

that never wanes

regardless of time or circumstance

each hard experience

softened by companionship

each joy magnified


oh, how we are transformed

by Love’s alchemy

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The Beholder

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Yo perdí algo en el agua.
Yo perdí algo linda ayer.
No podía saber que estaba pasando.
Que estaba pasando no podré comprender.

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You are the first ache

of my day

when I open my eyes and find

you are not with me after all

yet, your spirit touches mine in the night

I awake wanting you

heart, body, soul,

how strange to love so

you color my dreams

with tints, hues

touches and scents of you

that linger, though

you are not there

it’s with your mind you engage

the wonder of me

you love cerebrally

those things you find



Your mind is such a luscious place

an Eden of sight and sound

color and beauty

I watch you marvel

at innocuous things I never knew

and love them too

you paint our world your shades

of gold, green, red, blue

a collage of what you see and feel

have shared with me

I love to touch

these jewels of you


How foreign it must seem

to be loved my way

you reduce me to the

mere physical

measure and weigh

the sexual imperative

that drives us all

all so true, but,

there is more to you and me

than procreative bent

but, whew…

there is that, too


Not only with my body

do I crave

to be your slave

with saber drawn

to pierce and own

your scabbard make my home

but with heart unchained

protective gates thrown wide

unlocked, unafraid, call

“come in…come in”

with mind and soul, too

desire I to share

whatever lovely you find there


There must be

in the beauty of you and me

twixt our uncommon existence

a nexus of common ground

some hallowed place

where we can with each other marvel

with minds expound

there fingers trace

each line and furrow

hill and hollow

like occidental tourists

explore and find

taste and touch

immerse ourselves

each in beauty of the other

be both amazed…amazing


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Your beauty is simple
Patterns unfolding
Into eternal
Fractal limbs entwining
unsolvable problems
Into infinite probabilities.
Strength more elegant
In deeper perspectives
Hidden until uncovered
At the proper place
In time
When wounds
Are revealed
Pride and arrogance
And complex behavior
Still following the same
Simply resolved
In your beauty

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I see her
Day in day out;
Is it her?
I pause in doubt,
Glimmer in her eyes
Reflection of the skies,
I'm entranced;
Truly it is her but enhanced,
More than 1080p, HD, up scaling
More than 3D any and all resolution failing;
To define what she evokes
Try to sum up what she provokes,
Watching her but for a minute
Wish this moment you could pin it;
On a wall poster; blow it up
Billboard on the freeway at sun up,
Share what I see 
With the world; none will be free;
Burn her image into their eyes tinged
Like tattoos on the skin singed,
Permanent scenic view
Fresh like the morning's dew,
I breath in deep
As if ready to leap;
I'll try to walk away
From her beauty highlight of this day...
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