Theme

Display Mature Content

Suppress AI Content

literature

Asexuality

Deviation Actions

ColdAmuChan

Published: Jun 5, 2011

634 Views

Literature Text

I looked upon their eyes and I saw nothing
In my lover's face, you'd think there was something
I cannot see my love coming to me
I suppose that knowledge is key

Truthfully, I am not excited over love
I do not think I have it from above
No attraction to girls or boys
Yet I do not see them as a simple toy

My friends are boy and girl alike
yet I cannot seem to find someone I like
I suppose I have no attraction for you as well
But by now, I suppose, that was easy to tell

More by ColdAmuChan

Literature

A day never traveled by

Time used to be linear for us Where Friday to Monday happened in a blink Yet people twist their times and split away Now I'm moving to Monday while they're on Friday I was able to see them after the weekend Say "Good morning" and "Goodbye" Before they stepped into another existence That I cannot venture, no matter my persistence When I close my eyes After many days and one final night Will I be able to catch up? Is waiting enough?

Recommended Literature

Literature

day 305 of heartbreak.

"i know you love me." darling , i love the way you look at me with eyes full of adoration . (but that gleam has disappeared) i love the way we gab and gab about nothing and everything at the same time . (but we haven't spent a 4am together in quite some time) i love the way we can fight through the thorns of life together . (but now my body is filled with splinters) i love the way you tell me i'm beautiful and i know you mean it in every way . (but now you can't even stand the sight of me) i'm going through the motions of heartbreak , the stages of grief. listening to your ramblings about how you think you know me . but the thing

Literature

March of Time

March of Time Time marches to its own sound. Tick tock, thump thump, click boom. In a fraction of a second everything you know and love can be gone. Life ends and life begins but time pays no mind. It just keeps marching to its own beat. Tick tock, thump thump, click boom.

Literature

Memories

We have all the time in the world... Except not really, do we? We have less than a year Less than a breath Less than a thought And I've been doing a lot of thinking: Thinking about the future (which makes my stomach hurt) Thinking about the present (which makes my stomach hurt) Thinking about you (which makes my stomach--) Thinking enough to be considered dangerous Because historically, thoughts and ideas are dangerous Thoughts lead to ideas lead to words lead to change And I don't want things to change... ...except that's a lie. I want things to change. I want this...this thing This intangible feeling This tangible energy I want it all to

Suggested Collections

Poetry

Literature

speechless

and who's to even know if I've gone ghost again together alone skin now silent where once my caress was comfort where once my hands were conductors of symphonies and sparks in the dark I felt you flinch my chest caved in despite lack of intention . we kiss closed off I no longer pull joy from you . it is not my lot to be missed so I'll softly fade while you shift you have taken the moon from my mouth

Literature

Tropical Sunrise

Today the sun rose slowly, Over the steamy sea. There were sounds of water lapping, As the tide crept close to me. Wet sand was intermittent as the water lapped the shore, The seagulls raced the water in Between the shells galore. The humidity is creeping up, The breeze is turning warm, The yachts and cats are still - In the waters, blue and calm. The day ahead is starting, the heat will creep up now, But enjoy the day beginning The night can take a bow! © vanndra 2021

Literature

Time

Today it is a pile of rocks, clay, and sand But once it was a mountain so tall and grand. Now it's just a stump and not much at all Though it was once a redwood so great and tall. Today it's a desert where no water can be found But it used to be the floor of an ancient ocean sound. Today it's just an island with very little to see But once it was a continent with lakes and trees. The waves of the sea turn the rocks into sand As do the glaciers grinding slowly across the land. Wood becomes dirt and rock becomes sand; Ground becomes ocean and sea becomes land. Stone into sand then sand into stone; Bone into soil and soil into bone. Nothing will stay the same; In time nothing will remain.

Literary Works of Art

Literature

after the party.

He's drunk in the backseat. "Anna. Anna. Anna," he moans, as if my name is a broken record his throat can't stop scratching; his voice is nettles and thorns, every natural prick and annoyance. My knuckles go white on the wheel. Ryan's riding shotgun and he won't look at me. "If you need me to drive him home, I can do it," he offers sheepishly. I don't answer, just press my foot to the gas and let the engine's rusty roar engulf John's voice. I peek in the rearview mirror. John's laying across the seat like a dead trout, and I can tell Ryan hasn't even bothered to buckle his seat belt. There's a photo album in John's arms that he clings to w

Literature

Exit, Stage Left

"You're lonely," he said. Thelma jumped, startled. She might not have even heard his voice over the thumping dance music, but it was just at that moment where there was a temporary lull between songs. He stood nearby, his head slightly tilted. Thelma glanced behind her, his words ricocheting in her mind - she wasn't sure what was more surprising, what he'd said or that he'd noticed and bothered to relay this observation to her at all. He was good-looking, tall and thin with artfully spiky hair, but something about him struck her as unsettling. Perhaps it was the way he spoke, or that his eyes were oddly piercing, but either way she felt hers

Literature

Rose and Iris

They loved their garden; Mother and Daughter would spend Hours in the sun. Behind their house was Green dotted with red, yellow, Pink and countless more. Mother loved roses; Daughter preferred irises. They planted with care. They watched the sun rise While blowing dandelions, And mimicked at dusk. Their birdbaths brought in Winged visitors who were Greeted with bird seed. All meals were eaten On a polka-dot blanket; Nothing but home-cooked. Catching butterflies, Looking for funny-shaped clouds, Climbing the oak tree. They ran, danced and sang, Never tiring of their Love for each other. Daughter did not think That her

poetry

Literature

Seer

Sweet poison, Trickles down- I suck it out And convulse Electrifying I’m a seer Able to see Magical lands Balance Between dark and light The poison seeps out Perspiration Words course through My mind Thoughts Disturb me Remind me of something In the tangible world I’ve tried to forget My body cold now I rise I’d cry if I could But I laugh Hysterically My angel was right Life’s a joke

Literature

Lesbian

God loved the two girls at the end of my street. Everywhere they went, they went together, hand-in-hand so they didn't get lost, laughing at everything and nothing all at once. He was so proud of them. They never stole, they never swore, they brushed their teeth twice a day and always said their prayers. It was a gift, said the townspeople, that two girls as perfect as they were were born in the same place. an even greater gift, said they, that those two were the best of friends. Long nights spent giggling in rooms with closed doors was a good thing, back then. One day, halfway between their houses and in the middle of th

Literature

Blood Stained Glass

Pools of blood are on the floor Painting shards of broken glass. Yet we step upon them still As we talk about the past. Each time we put our foot down, The stained mosaic cracks. Can’t you see it doesn’t change Who broke it in the past? The glass opaqued with gore Will reflect iconoclasts As will the scarlet sheen. They will not reflect the past. The bones and glass inside your feet Squeal and click and crack. Your wince is louder than your voice So why talk about the past? Sweet merlot drips from our toes. Our soles are skinned and slashed. How much letting must we do To heal from the past? One day perhaps we’ll drown.

Featured in Groups

ColdAmuChan on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/coldamuchan/art/Sasuke-and-Hinata-1-176147494ColdAmuChan

I recently figured out that I was ASexual. It means I have no attraction toward either gender... Lovely aint it?

EDIT: I'm revamping this piece based on what I've learned about asexuality and correcting any errors in this piece that have been presented to me or discovered.

Comments35

Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In

GD1178

Jan 11, 2015

I've been like this for a while... I sometimes feel lost and forgotten. I've been told I'm wrong. But yeah its not that bad. Honestly, I've grown to like it.

DeviantArt - Homepage

DeviantArt Facebook DeviantArt Instagram DeviantArt Twitter

About Contact Core Membership DeviantArt Protect

Developers Advertise Terms of Service Etiquette

Careers Privacy Policy Copyright Policy Help and FAQ

Watch Team and join our Community Group for the latest updates and activities.

Join Community