Hey, my name's Deborah. You can call me Debz :)
Just a 20 year-old girl waiting for the right guy...
That guy that every girl knows...
Who visits her in her dreams, roaming her subconscious mind but never materialises...
*sigh* I guess this is an outlet for my romantic ramblings, and other things that traverse my mind :3
All my posts are mine unless stated otherwise ;)
Did I mention that I'm staying a virgin 'til I get married?? Apparently that's rare these days... :/

Waiting For Love...

and other things ;)

So happy it’s unreal!! xD
Stressing over results day and university has been the main reason for my absence (and severe lack of inspiration -_-). With this concern now out of the way hopefully I’ll be able to write again before university life prevents me from doing so. :P

It Saddens Me…

It saddens me to think that
if I was a guy
we may never have been friends.

It saddens me to think that
not a single guy
has proven your prejudices wrong.

It saddens me to think that
because of the guys you’ve met or observed,
the mental suit you immediately dress
every other guy in morphs them into pricks
unworthy of a second glance.

It saddens me to think that
you may never allow yourself to experience
the love which you so beautifully write about
yet have so little faith in…

There is another side of me,
one that nobody but me sees in its entirety;
some may glimpse at her when I grow
tired of self-imposed secrecy.

She’s much more openly frivolous than I,
bolder and more outgoing,
poised in her teasing; she breathes through
the window of the glint in my eyes.

I prefer not to look at her
and so tend to avoid my own
reflection in windows and mirrors, puddles,
and in the blank screen of my mobile phone.

On occasion we stand
(naked) before each other,
face-to-face, separated by glass, and
my movements are no longer hers.

She licks her lips with a brazen tongue
/ I invert mine to be licked/
she flutters unexploited lashes
and bites her bottom lip.

I cast my gaze upon the floor
/ she snakes her hands into her hair
and sways her agile hips/ it’s over - this
duel of gestures - and we are one once more.

I am.
She is.

I am her captor
but I am also her slave,
both her dom and her sub,
to keep her from wanting escape.

She is a lioness on a leash
that has loosened over time,
lusting for delights
on which she is yet to feast.

I can feel her clawing at the threads that hold her…
She wants to be free…

Random Fact #1

… I… I… *sigh*
I sing in the shower

Song I sing the most: ‘Ain’t No Sunshine’ - Bill Withers… (I sing it with ‘he’s’ instead of ‘she’s’)


I like taking quizzes I find on the internet.
Even as a little girl I enjoyed seeing if the quiz could guess aspects of me correctly.
One particular quiz I came across when I was 12 called, ‘What Are You?’, hit the nail on the head.

'You Are a Ghost

Mysterious, independent, and often unseen - you always do things your own way.
You are introverted, shy, and even a little secretive.
People are dying to know you better, but you’re a difficult person to know.
A lot of your contributions to the world are left invisible and unfelt.

Your greatest power: Blending in really well

Your greatest weakness: Being too passive’

At the time I was nodding and thinking, ‘Yes! Yes! What an accurate quiz!’, but now I remember it with sadness because I don’t want all of these things to be true of me.

I’m not unseen anymore because my mum taught me how to walk with confidence even if I’m not feeling confident…

I started this Tumblr, started entering competitions, and even joining clubs because I wanted some of my writing to be seen and possibly felt…

I don’t mind being somewhat mysterious, independent, and a little secretive…

I don’t like being so shy and passive…
I don’t like that I make myself difficult for people to really know because I’m reserved with people who are not close friends or family…

If you were to ask me about the interests, quirks, likes, and dislikes of any of my friends I could tell you, but I couldn’t guarantee that they would know more than 10 things about me…

I’m going to start posting random facts about myself every week on a Friday - Random Fact Fridays ;) - so you lovely followers can know a bit more about me~!
But really, this is for myself.
…I need to be more open…

Feel free to ask me things you want to know about me. :)
I’ll only answer them on Fridays though.

Happy New Year

"I wish you all the best."
Yes… you there,
convinced that no one
in the world would care
if you simply disappeared
into the shadows of a room
lit by the light of celebratory fireworks
that futilely disperse the gloom
as it comes through the crack of a bordered window.

"I wish you all the best."
Yes… you there,
snuggled under sheets with your partner
- a hand laid over his heart, upon his chest -
feeling whole, content, and complete
as the clock strikes twelve;
you breath him in as you intertwine
your legs with his feet.

"I wish you all the best."
Yes… you there,
unperturbed by the loneliness
that independence can bring, a pest
plaguing many tonight.
Voices of cherished ones
wishing you well are enough to cast
your doubts aside and set your heart right.

"I wish you all the best."
Yes… you there,
child who still weeps as the year
becomes new because parents
refuse to open their ears,
to see their baby and dry those tears
instead of bickering at the start of a new year.

I wish you all the best”.
Yes… you there,
dear reader, thank you for reading.
To anons who’ve left messages, thank you for stopping by.
To followers, old and new, thank you for everything.
To everyone, Happy New Year!

For A Friend Of Mine
(15+ attempts at recording ‘til I liked it :P)

Read along if you wish:

I must tell you this
whether you want to hear it or not.

The universe of your eyes
contains the burning light
of stars that shine all the more
brighter when ambition stokes
your fire or when happiness beams
from your smile.
You are beautiful.
You are sweet, kind, and bubbly,
the main components of your warming personality,
and I am glad to have you as a friend.

I must tell you this
whether you want to hear it or not.

He is a black-hole disguised
as something you think you need
but you don’t…
You don’t need a person who
drains the joy from your face
with spiked words,
sticking like burrs in the back
of your mind until you start believing
these tales of untruths.
You deserve better
and can do better, my friend.
You deserve a man whose feelings
do not alternate like a tap that
runs both hot and cold water,
scalding you then soothing you
into thinking that it’s going to be ok
when things never should have
become hot enough to do harm
or cold enough to bite in the first place.

I must tell you this
whether you want to hear it or not.

I know that you are aware of your situation
and I know that you are afraid to voice
your concerns.
You prefer having your heart on loudspeaker
while your sense is on mute
because stating the obvious will hurt
just as much as stating the truth.
So hear me when I say that
I do not want his fist to connect
with your face before you realise that
you’re immersed in his suffocating darkness,
trapped by his control over you,
and you would be the one to blame.
You saw the warning signs through
his unfounded lack of faith
in your fidelity;
you heard the alarm bells blaring
as he called you beautiful one minute
and the next, ugly;
you felt your heart drop, showing
his hold over you,
when you said ‘I love you’
and he didn’t say it back;
when he told you to get out of his house
in the middle of the night, to just pack
up and leave;
when an argument became so heated
that you thought he was going to attack.

I must tell you this
whether you want to hear it or not.

Leave before it’s too late,
and don’t look back

Ms. Rodgers

She was my favourite English teacher and the best,
having shown me the wondrous world of prose and poetry
which had previously
been hidden from me
due to the half-assed, quick-tempered teacher
who was easily riled by pre-pubescent pranks
and laughter,
shamefully so,
ultimately lacking the fervour for the art,
and had taught my class for the first two years of my secondary education,
essentially draping the lure of the written word from me.

But Ms. Rodgers…
She was, at first impression, strict and straight-forward,
poised and prepped,
well-dressed and had the most piercing stare.

She was well-versed in literature
and well-acquainted with many, many
dictionaries and thesauruses
that formed a neat row along the front of her desk.

She had the ability to slice and silence us
with only her words
which summoned respect, admiration,
additionally for me,
slight intimidation
at how pure, clean English
could deliver the punch of swear words.

Her passion scalding me in the most helpful way,
burning off the metaphorical scab
that had clustered over
and refrained me from truly experiencing
how amazing words can be.

To her, I will always be grateful.

Workouts & Yoga

Loose limbs,
Deep breaths,
Aching all over,
Heaving chest.

Focused mind,
Centred soul,
Balancing the body,
Psyche control.

Trying positions,
Secreting sweat,
Tempted by fatigue,
Goals met.


There are moments where I cry,
wishing for this particular grain of sand
to land
at the bottom of the hourglass of Time.

There are moments where all I want to do is
wallow in the darkness of my room,
overwhelmed by an impending sense of gloom;
a lock upon the door ensuring that silence is my only companion.

There are moments where I want to laugh,
choking on varied frequency bursts of air
with watery-eyes that dare
to spill - the best medicine, so people say.

There are moments where I want to infect
every being I come across with a smile
because I feel truly happy, if only for a while,
and I would like to make a difference to their day.

There are moments where I long for a man
to tame the curious, sex freak
that trolls about my mind, wanting to play the adult version of trick-or-treat
with an imaginary guy that will pleasure her once I’m asleep.

There are moments where I want to share more of myself with people
yet I inwardly shy away,
raising a wall - a defence mechanism that often comes into play -
but fortunately it didn’t stop me today.

To the writers I follow and am yet to follow,

I relish seeing your words, raw and naked, on my dash.

Be your words, in their entirety, complex and beguiling,
I strip them down to their bare essentials in my mind,
flirting with the feel of each sentence,
enticed by the fluid construct of the intricate piece,
gratified by its fitting finish…

Be your words, in their entirety, simple and clear,
I take them in, slowly, absorbing every word,
admiring their honest charm,
marvelling at the subtle effectiveness of its delivery,
inspired to one day write in a way that evokes these feelings in you…

Yours Sincerely,
a humble follower.

For the first time,
since you left,
I didn’t dream of
you returning and
holding me in your strong,
warm arms and
kissing me the way we
never had the chance
to try, or
dream of myself with
tear-stained cheeks,
tears that streaked because of
memories we never made
the farewell my heart never bade.

For the first time,
since you left,
I dreamed of you
and I didn’t give a flying f**k.

My Heart…

Break it,
And my eyes will bleed words unspoken,
Tainting your memories of me,
Held in your under-developed brain,
With the pain you’ve caused my soul,
Haunting you for the rest of eternity.

Out of my heart will seep every soft-spoken sentence, word, or phrase,
That you’ve had the audacity,
The down-right indecency,
To fill with your unnecessary lies.

All that will remain for you to see,
Is a thickly-coated, hollow cocoon of what I used to be…
It won’t rest until your excuse for a heart,
Seasoned with the spice of love,
Is crushed by the hands of someone who you thought reciprocated those very feelings I felt for you.

Then, and only then,
Will I escape from the cocoon in which I was held captive,
And emerge, like a butterfly,
Resuming the life you tried to mummify.

So to my future suitor(s),
If one of you do manage to unlock my safe-guarded heart,
I beg of you…
Don’t break it.