Sunday, 30 May 2010


My fourteenth velvet box, opened.
They sit in the bottom. They haunt my dreams and are the stuff of every nightmare I've ever had. They're a constant source of pleasure and pain, but I never know which one it will be until I get them out of the box and look at them.
They're the most painfully beautiful thing I've ever been blessed to look at. They are Piers Stubbs's beautiful eyes. I stare at them from my memories constantly. They shimmer in the pictures I still possess in my head. They were such a beautiful colour. They were like the sea on a summery, cloudless day. A beautiful, deep blue, glistening from behind his eyelashes. I remember the way they crinkled at the corners when he smiled, or when he laughed. The times when they became smaller as he frowned and his eyebrows sank down onto them. The times he was sad, and he looked off into space, when they became distant and almost unfathomable; like old eyes, wise and all-seeing, set into a young, unknowing face. Or those times they would go cold and blank, as if he was not going to say anything on the matter that had been raised. His eyes told such stories to me, ones he couldn't, or wouldn't speak with words. But most of all, those eyes pierced my very soul. They would look at me and delve into everything I was thinking. You read me like a book with those eyes, you really did. You understood me like no other. And I'll never get that back.
I love this box. I adore the memory I have of his eyes, so I shall keep it.
Fourteen velvet boxes, open and redundant.
LoveLoveLove x

Wednesday, 26 May 2010


My thirteenth velvet box, opened.

I stood, looking puzzled at the timetable stuck on the wall. Funny, because it had never confused me before; I'd been here half a term already. But this was strange. I had no lunch, according to that piece of paper on the wall. I was the only one in the corridor, and I felt small.
'You look lost,' a voice over my shoulder told me. it was smooth and alluring, calm and collected, and had a beautiful husk to it. My nose caught the scent of him; a soft, woody smell, slightly spicy, but not too much of a kick. Joop. I turned around to face the stranger. I wouldn't exactly call him a boy. More an angel. He walked with an unmistakable grace, and that strange air of confidence that made you feel welcome, but not intimidated. It told me he was important, but not unapproachable. His hair was lightly tousled, and a soft, bright shade of blonde - not too striking, not too dull. His eyes were a deep shade of blue, and they twinkled with intuition and knowledge. His skin was a sultry peachy white colour, and it looked so delicate that if you touched him, he would break. And he had the most perfectly white, wide, warm smile. 'Can I help?'
I thought for a minute. 'Well, I have no lunch. Any ideas...'
'Piers. Piers Stubbs. Pleased to meet you...'
'Deanna. Deanna Cappella.'
He looked at me and smiled. 'Italian.'
'Half,' I said, and smiled slightly.
'Well, Deanna, I tell you what. I'm on lunch next lesson. Fancy coming with me?'
'Well, I don't know about that...' I said, smiling.
He looked at me and grinned. 'Come on, lets get you to your next class, Deanna.'
He walked me all the way up to the roof. Eight flights of stairs. We talked about the things you talk about when you first meet someone; how old you are, what year you're in, family and friends, how I was finding the school. He was twelve, I was ten. He was year 8, I was year 6. I liked his best friend. Michael Parsons. He had a sister and a mother. Dad walked out. That was all he would say, about his family, at least. When we got to the roof, I realised I was ten minutes late. So Piers walked in and explained that I had gotten lost. I nearly laughed; if we hadn't been walking so slow, I would've been on time easily. But I didn't say that. He turned to face me. 'Well, I'll save you a space at lunch, right next to me, okay? And if you're lucky, I'll put Michael opposite you,' and he winked. 'I'd like that.' And with that, Piers was gone.

This was the first day I met Piers. And I never forgot it. I will forever treasure it, its one of the most beautiful and oldest memories I have.
Thirteen velvet boxes, open and redundant.
LoveLoveLove x

Sunday, 9 May 2010


My twelfth velvet box, opened.

I love this box. Its so precious to me. Because inside, is something that I treasure more than life itself. Inside, is Demii Lee Walker. And she is wonderful. I call her my lesbian. Of course, we're not. But I love her too much. She's like the amazing sister I never really had. The one who listens to everything I have to say and gives the best advice in the world. The one who isn't scared to hurt my feelings, because she knows that its better to tell me the truth.
But life with Demii wasn't always so blissful. Once upon a time, we weren't friends. And then when we became friends, I let her down. She trusted me, and I slaughtered it. Yet, somehow, she found it in her heart to forgive my big mouth. And after the trauma I caused, I made an effort to get our friendship back to where it was. But I didn't succeed. No, I surpassed that. Our relationship is stronger than it has ever been, and I am so, so grateful to her. My Demii. L4L, S4L. (Lesbian for life, Sister for life). She has always been there, and for that, Demii, I love and worship you, so very much.
Because you are so special to me, Demii, I will move this box, out of my head and close to my heart. LoveYouForever Demii.
Twelve velvet boxes, open and redundant.
LoveLoveLove x