Sparsilian

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Untitled by Sparsilian, literature

Literature

Untitled

I fell in love after you left. Again, again, again and again. I’m getting married next year. I love her very, very much. Can’t imagine life without her. I’ll gladly spend my small eternity with her. I’m not settling. I am in love, truly, with someone else. But, for the sake of honesty, there’s a quadrant of my heart that will love you forever. And even though that heart-space is only a fragment of who I am now… There’s a bit of my heart that will love you until the end of time.

expectation. by Sparsilian, literature

Literature

expectation.

foolishly, i still expect things. i am an optimist dressed as a mortician—no one expects a ray of sunshine behind my gaudy suit jacket, but despite all, i still use daisies as cufflinks. and i sit in front of coffins praying for miracles, pour the corpses a cup of tea. because that’s the way it always goes doesn’t it? putting stock into the impossible, fiddling with my pocketwatch, waiting for something that already ended—that never even started—to begin. (maybe i can catch the rerun) i hate kindling the flames of hope so constantly when i know the gas will burn out and the flame will dance and die, but i sti

reborn. by Sparsilian, literature

Literature

reborn.

i could paint my name in the stars. divide myself into pieces, round to the nearest whole number. i was never any good at math, but isn’t that what they taught us in school? rid yourself of that pesky decimal point. i was born of a forest, and i watched as the flames licked away at my skin. multiply by i. does that make me any more imaginary than i already imagine myself? i am a Phoenix, born again.

ethics. by Sparsilian, literature

Literature

ethics.

my hands aren’t calloused enough. someone told me recently that a solid work-ethic comes not from enjoyment, but from a counterfeit pride carved deep within oneself, the ultimate, bold-faced lie you force yourself to believe in, after you finish your evening prayers and tuck yourself in for the night. so, i took it to heart and tried to remedy the situation by lifting without sighing: i realize the origin of my anxieties now. there is no referee in this game, i am either biting my nails, pulling my skin, skidding down hallways pursued by monsters only i can see, or i am numb. there is no in between. but my hands still aren’t cal

day 75. by Sparsilian, literature

boomerang. by Sparsilian, literature

Postcards. by Sparsilian, literature

Motor Oil. by Sparsilian, literature

Literature

Motor Oil.

i remember standing in your step-father’s garage in early fall before the leaves fell (before we fell). he smelled of motor oil and sweat, showed us a box full of keys he wanted to get melted down for some loose change. he said, “i don’t know how much they’ll go for, but i’ve been collected them for over ten years, i must have somewhere in the range of two hundred old keys by now and you know what? every little bit helps these days.” and i stared at the old shoebox and wondered what those keys once opened, and if anyone was still missing them, and how he held onto this dream of melting down lost objects f

The End of an Era. by Sparsilian, literature

Literature

The End of an Era.

When I was eighteen, my girlfriend and I hid our cigarettes in Altoid tins and referred to smoking as loligagging. I kept her lighter in my backpack so her dad wouldn’t find it, and in turn she hid her heart in a treasure chest and threw it out to sea, so I could never find it even if I’d wanted to, even though I never really tried. Her dad never found the lighter, either. Two weeks after I quit smoking for the fourth time (two years later) I find myself nostalgically asking the cashier at the drugstore for a pack of our old classic go-to-marketed towards- teenagers, marketed-towards-the-invincible cigarettes. I smoked half of a

Butterfly. by Sparsilian, literature

Literature

Butterfly.

Today I am a butterfly on a flower petal. As I traipse over the tidal waves of exertion, I am hope personified. Smiling comes easy to me: I operate as I have been designed, I am instinct bottled in a glass jar and put away for the monsoon season, the lighthouse at the shore--there is a light inside of me that despite all has not yet been extinguished and, for once, I am at peace. And tomorrow, when the rain u-turns back into my garden, you might ask “Where did she go,” and from my resting place beneath the shrubbery, I will answer you the only way I know how: “Butterflies don’t live very long.”

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Untitled by Sparsilian, literature

Literature

Untitled

expectation. by Sparsilian, literature

Literature

expectation.

reborn. by Sparsilian, literature

Literature

reborn.

ethics. by Sparsilian, literature

Literature

ethics.

day 75. by Sparsilian, literature

boomerang. by Sparsilian, literature

Postcards. by Sparsilian, literature

Motor Oil. by Sparsilian, literature

Literature

Motor Oil.

The End of an Era. by Sparsilian, literature

Literature

The End of an Era.

Butterfly. by Sparsilian, literature

Literature

Butterfly.

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ethics. by Sparsilian, literature

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ethics.

Sparsilian

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About Sparsilian

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Artist // Hobbyist // Literature

Dec 16, 1992
United States
Deviant for 11 years
semperabsurdum.com
She / Her

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My Bio

^{i like words and snowglobes. i've been to a circus where only the deaf people clapped. i love cats and i hate spiders. once upon a time, i was in love. i write under a pseudonym. i put the quirk in quirky. i don't like talking about myself, have i said too much? i'm too pretentious for my own good. i want to travel the world. i live where the sun always shines and the rain doesn't fall. i like oceans. i don't like sand. i'm asthmatic and i'm also anxious. i was medicated once, and now i'm not. are you still reading this? sometimes i drive out to the desert and stargaze. i trust too easily. i'm imperfect. i'm human.}

Favourite Bands / Musical Artists

Sigur Ros, Regina Spektor, The Killers, The Mountain Goats, The Pretty Reckless, Bright Eyes

Favourite Writers

Robert Frost, John Green, George R.R. Martin, Gregory Maguire,

Tools of the Trade

words.

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Sparsilian

Apr 22, 2013

In which she washes her hands of silly love songs.

0 min read

I think there comes a point where the muse grows stale, and one must leave the familiar territory in search of something fresher, regardless of how utterly terrifying the proposition may seem. Some of you may have noticed I've written my fair share of mediocre love poems, and don't worry, I'm as sick of them as you probably are. Most of them are not noteworthy, but those that I felt had some sort of poetic merit have been cross posted into two different collections: To Artemis, With Love and Regret: http://sparsilian.deviantart.com/gallery/43304814 & To A__, With Absinthe and Thumbtacks: http://sparsilian.deviantart.com/gallery/43304844

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Sparsilian

Feb 20, 2013

tuesday musings.

0 min read

perhaps i don't take myself seriously enough. writing has never been anything more to me than a hobby which i shy away from mentioning to people in casual conversation. the phrase, "i'm a writer" seems to get tossed around so often that any connotation the phrase used to have, positive or negative, seems to have gotten lost in the spirals and voids of time, becoming meaningless with overuse. however lately, i find the phrase on the tip of my tongue anyway, and thus my hobby is slowly becoming a dream. you know?

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Sparsilian

Nov 26, 2012

still here.

0 min read

oh dear, i've let dA get away from me again. i'm starting a project on youtube where i make videos to accompany my poems. you can view the first one at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M1jRYc0G0R4.

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Profile Comments 30

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reddrago180

Aug 29, 2012

Hey, Lauren! I don't even know what poem to comment on, you write beautifully!

I think my favorite is your description, about being to a circus where only the deaf clapped. I love that.

Kymira12

Aug 20, 2012

Hello!

I am *kymira12 and I am hosting the ITU Contest which is a literature contest for my new group #InspireTheUninspired. I was wondering if you would like to join the contest? You do not have to be a member to participate and there's some great prizes to be won. The full details are in the link above. I hope to see you consider

_{hello (: Thank you so much for the fave and the watch!! Its very much appreciated!}

^{you're welcome}

Hello! You've been featured here: [link]

Your poem was suggested to me by *Mrs-Freestar-Bul. I really enjoyed your poem! You had a grounded yet ethereal feel to it that took my breath away. Fantastic writing!

Sparsilian

Jul 8, 2012

^{thank you very much!}