if you keep getting under.i saw you today and said hey
but what i meant was:
holyhell, youre beautiful. you look like sunshine trapped in mason jars and fireflies stuck in moonbeams. you have a smile that punches straight to the spinal cord, did you know that? i just spent the last five seconds rebooting my heart, training my lungs how to breathe again. exhale, inhale. it should be simple but youve snarled it all in a giant mess. im unwinding the ball of yarn into a straight jacket and youre as unaffected as the sea. id say im a boat but im hardly as sturdy. im a feather. its almost funny how little a chance i have of staying afloat. im soaked and matted and sinking into the undertow. and youre just churning on and on and on.
i saw you today and said how have you been?
but what i meant was:
have you lost as much sleep as i have? ive spent 3256 hours trying to piece together the exact curves that m
truth flavoured lies_cthe lie about me:truth flavoured lies_c5 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
i am beautiful like freshly-cut grass and popsicles in the middle of the day. i am summer-lips and winter-teeth, laughing my way through autumn-leaves. i am branding laughter against the back of my throat so i can feel it with every breath i draw in, soaking in your words as i stick them under my tongue and save them for a while. i am living for the moment and dancing without caring whos watching. i am loving recklessly and throwing my heart into the wind with wild abandon. i am calling each scar a beauty mark and opening my arms wide to catch the wind. you are calling me love and i am answering.
the truth about me:
i am ugly like cracked sidewalk and melted popsicles all over calloused hands. i am winter-eyes and cracked-leaf-lips, evaporating along with the polluted ocean. i am branding my mistakes on the back of my eyelids so i never forget but rather dream along the splintering branches of them. i am drowning in the moment and hanging up my da
gamble on me.hey boy,gamble on me.5 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
i think you should know that youre twisting my spine into knots and clogging up my arteries and the least you could do is give me a second of your time. i think you should give me a chance. you should know that you make my hands itch when you smile because i want to brush my thumb over your cheekbones. that my shoulders are trembling because i can imagine them resting against your chest, the idea of the warmth shotgunning straight to my nerves.
i think you should know youre making a relatively sane girl misplace her mind.
and i know youre so much more than youll ever imagine, that you are making me tangle words that once lived tucked safely in my pocket. that my fists are clenched against my legs and my mind is unwound around my skull and youre just tipping jaunty lips without a thought.
you see, ive been bottling this feeling but carbonation is beginning to shove against the cap. and i can feel it fizzing down the sides, leaking out my fing
i can fight gravity.do you really want to know how im feeling?i can fight gravity.5 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
im breathing his name across my pillow every night. im sleeping with trembling hands uncurled, wishing only for them to be held against his. my mouth is swollen from biting my lip, the words caged inside, moth-wings fluttering against the back of my throat.
im tearing apart dictionaries because none of them have the definition that describes this. im throwing the radio through the window because none of the music feels right. my teeth are on edge and im on a wire. im hanging three hundred feet over a giant x thatll bruise like hell when i swan dive towards it.
and im courting dreams that dont make sense, kicking them down the stairs in the morning and watching them crumple on the floor. because theyre only useful when theyre broken, feeble and silent.
im running as fast as i can with blistered feet. if i dont let this catch me then i can pretend it
barefoot in the rainit's too cold to speak into payphones without trembling. it's one of those nights when the whole world seems to be the colour of smoke. I am screaming even though I know nobody will hear me. I press my face against the window glass and it's cold enough to feel exposed, but not cold enough to want to stop.barefoot in the rain5 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
it's like the r-rated movie I watched when I was ten years old. I wanted to scream but my own swollen fingers were covering my mouth. now I am pushing two fingers into my mouth like the one time I pressed my palm into the shower drain. I wanted to be sucked in. I wanted to fall out. I wanted to be in a place where it was raining all the time.
time may have made me bonier, but I'm still sitting here with my fingers against the window of the telephone booth, and there's a boy standing out in the rain, but he looks happy. it's been so cold for so long that I now almost enjoy it because I like knowing that I could leave but that I never actually do.
he's the ghost I never should have even
we're breaking fate.i'm crying but there are no tears; i'm laughing but there is no sound.we're breaking fate.5 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
music is playing but i can't cage the beat. i'm just sitting in the middle of a wind storm and counting the seconds to sleep. counting the seconds until i fly. counting the seconds until i can see your face again. because your mouth is like whiskey and i'm always under the influence whenever you're around. ohoh, if i had the words, i'd give them all to you in a beat of my stuttering heart. because you always know that everything i want is everything you have and everything i have is already yours.
i can't keep myself from you. i can't keep myself from the flames but i'm going down swinging. i'm going down hard. i'm too close to the fire and too far from the heat. i'm dancing a million miles a minute trying to get your attention but you're too far away to see and i'm sweating blood and bleeding sweat and i just want to be where you are.
remember when we were thirteen? we had hot, dirty hands and innocent eyes and dan
i dont understandhave you ever woken up and not thought anything at all?i dont understand5 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
somtimes i find myself thinking that 'it'd be fun to go and stand out in the rain' so i do. but once i'm out there i find myself thinking, 'wouldn't it be invigorating to take off my clothes' so i do. but once i've done that, i find myself thinking 'wouldn't it be beautiful to climb on the rooftop', so i do. and then once i'm standing there, i find myself thinking, 'wouldn't it be magical to fall in love' and so i try. i try and try and try but i can't. and so there i am, standing naked on my rooftop in the rain trying to fall in love.
sometimes i find myself imagining that all we are made of is the same thing that makes us always face the same way in the shower. i think sometimes we're made of the things that tell our brain to go outside, to run. i think we're made of the same thing that makes us left or right handed, and the same thing that allows some people to kick a ball and others to not be able to. but then i realise, w
late this october night.right now:late this october night.5 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
the train is bulleting ten times faster than recommended down the tracks. sparks are cascading as the metal punches sporadic screams through the air. inside the cabin there are taut fingers clawing at the sides of the seats, praying lips asking for salvation as oxygen is whipped from the passengers gaping lungs. a mother is pressing chapped lips to her sons tan forehead, a husband is folding his wifes leathery hand in his for the last time. all chests are expanded and compressed against the back of the seats, hearts imploding as the track dissolves under grinding wheels.
the train rolls on, the screams roll on, the fire rolls on.
death runs rampant late this october night.
the plane is nose-diving through the starless fog. one little girls limp head is leaning against her fathers tense arm, his lips reciting a prayer long ago forgotten. the cabin is silent except for the steady sound of breathing, the sound of cotton on cotton as legs
wishes are a lot like regrets.i say a lot of things that maybe i dont mean so while we were sleeping in glass covered streets. i was talking about being a lot like twenty four hours that are disappearing. like i could make something pretty or poetic out of the fact that im a complete waste of your time.wishes are a lot like regrets.5 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
we were leaning against the curb trying not to cut our skin on the sharp pieces of our shattered reality as i said that we cant age backwards and this is as young as were going to get and that you should just pretend i never happened. pretend i dont exist because i cant say what i should to you. i cant say the words to fix this. i cant say the things you deserve to hear anywhere but in our dreams. i cant and im sorry.
i believe a lot of things that i maybe know arent true so while we were lying among glittering blades of grass. i was counting all the stars in the sky and rationing my wishes so i could make one each night for the rest of my life. and
i think i might need you.stop.i think i might need you.5 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
i need you to put down the pencil and listen to me for a second. i need you to pause your breath and tune to my frequency. because im throwing my heart on the airwaves and i need you to be alive to hear it. i need you to follow my words even when theyre stumbling, tripping, falling on their face.
this is just going to take a second. i promise.
i think you should know that when i woke up today i was tangled in morning breath and your whispers. i think you should know that im dreaming with swollen lips and bleeding cheeks because i keep biting down to stop myself from saying whats on my mind. i think you should know my mouth is betraying me and when i brush it off, what i mean is, please, for the love of everything, know that i am terrified.
and, i think you should know, despite the fact that i am trembling with needs, i dont want it. i dont want to count down the seconds and drag out my day. i dont want to have to constantly dislodge my he
if good things cause pain.i woke up today, brushed my teeth and sewed my heart onto my sleeve.if good things cause pain.5 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
you told me you liked it there best. i havent told you that it hurts when the wind and your callous words scratch at it because beauty is pain, right? sometimes, i think that love is pain too, but you havent broken the skin yet so i must only kind of love you. like how you say i am kind of right some of the time and kind of wrong most of it.
this morning you told me that i am the definition of ordinary, never falling into extremes but muting myself out in subtle grays and wide eyes. you said im not ugly but certainly not beautiful, not stupid but certainly not smart and not wrong for you but no where near right.
i believed you.
you drew my outline in chalk on the street today.
you bit your lip when you were done and said it wasnt your masterpiece but you were saving that for when you had enough experience to know what you were doing. i didnt tell you that i think art is best when you&
jeremy lives in the present.jeremy is the type of man who is scared that if he falls between the lines of sanity and dreams, he might never find his feet. he is the type of man who runs all the way home in his suit because he thinks hes chased by demons. he swears the only time they fell asleep was when she ran her fingers up and down his piano-ribs.jeremy lives in the present.5 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
jeremy is the type of man who has always been ten pounds below slender, who has always had hair two inches longer than chic and spiderweb-fingers strong enough to make a woman wonder. he is the type of man who wears clothes that are always this side of wrinkled with his grandfathers watch in one of his pockets. he thinks digital clocks sapped the magic out of time and its no wonder everyone is running late.
jeremy is the type of man who falls asleep listening to the radio with a vodka in his hand. he is the type of man who hears his past in-between the chorus and the verse and would sing along if he could carry a tune. instead he hums along unde
it's raining in our hearts.four months ago, the weather was warm but the sky was dark except for little glowing drops of light that sliced through the darkness and pounded on your cracked windshield. the wipers were screaming back and forth cutting the comfortable silence we sunk into. your knuckles were white on the steering wheel as if the bones were begging to get out and i swear, i could hear your heart beating from my seat eighteen inches away. your eyes kept straying from the road to my face as i stared decidedly out the window watching the storm build and calm in the reflection of my eyes as the sky poured color infused water droplets on us. i wanted to pretend like this wasnt the most beautiful thing id ever seen since that would never count for anything. i wanted to pretend like this wasnt perfect since that tends to be so short-lived. but it was beautiful and perfect as you parted your lips and let your heart sing. it was raining outside when you said you loved me.it's raining in our hearts.5 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
a week a
pretty words, dead flowers CLBi want a boy that makes me weak in the elbows.pretty words, dead flowers CLB5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i want him to drive a red camaro and put pens behind his ear because hes scared hell think of something he needs to say when theres no one around. i want him to never hesitate to hug me from behind or throw me over his shoulder and spin me until i swallow my spine. i want him to mess up my hair and pinch my cheek and then kiss me until my teeth are shaking and my nerves are smoking. i dont know where he is yet, but i know ill find him.
well, i won't make you weak in the elbows, but i can make you weak in your ribcage; i can tame the struggling butterflies and terminate your bloodflow. i don't have a car, but i'd rather take long walks with you across the vivace boardwalk, holding hands or locking lips. there's no pen behind my ears, but there's an eraser in my chest that can erase all your problems if you listen closely. i won't hug you when you cry; i'd save them for beating up the bastard who stole your t
good thing we're fools.I think I might love you.good thing we're fools.5 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
I think thats a stupid thing to say, why would you say something like that?
Because when you look at me my toes curl and my stomach flutters.
Is that a quote from a book?
No. I dont think so. I dont know. It all gets a little mixed up sometimes.
So you love me like they love in books.
Question or statement?
Question, then. And, yes. I love you like Scarlett loves Rhett, like Elizabeth loves Mr. Darcy, like-
Stop, just stop. Dont love me like that. What happens after the last page?
We continue on loving like happily-ever-forever.
No, wed drop off, we'd end. Love isnt static, it doesnt continue in a flat line. Who can carry the same tune for years? We rise, we fall, we bump arms and step on each others toes. Ill annoy you because I cant stand going to Chr
we weren't broken.michael,we weren't broken.5 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
we were innocent first kisses and dancing in the fireflies in the middle of the night. we were hushed calls when the rest of the world was sleeping and holding hands under the table when we thought no one was looking. we were piggy back rides and laying in the grass in the middle of the night counting the stars. we were beautiful. naïve, but beautiful.
and we ended in tears and broken glass roses you had snuck into my carry-on luggage. we ended with cut-off phone lines and i-never-want-to-speak-to-you-again. we ended with not broken hearts, but with our hearts first scar. i never told you then, but ill tell you now:
thank you for teaching me loves simple beauty.
thank you for preparing me for what was to come.
we were friendship blossoming in the heat of sunlight. we were sunflowers following the beauty across the track of day, sweet text messages and hesitant kisses broaching the lines we had carefully drawn. we were pushing fear aside and jumpi
our sleeping patterns collide.I wake up tired.our sleeping patterns collide.5 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
I wake up tired and it's afternoon again.
I wake up tired and I am alone.
It's like every night i fall asleep with you on my mind, and I quickly sort through my thoughts leaving the prettiest ones on top so I can try them on in the morning. So everyday, I wake up and try on being in love with you. Except every morning, it's three inches too big or a centimeter and a half too small or it's brushing my kneecaps like it's too long. But I wear it anyways, since I'm used to being a shade left of ordinary or two steps past crazy. I'm used to wearing love and I'm used to you.
I'm used to falling asleep next to you and waking up alone.
You call me.
You call me adorable and I like it.
You call me your own and it feels like a fairytale.
We spend the weekends curled up on iced lakes like mirrors, scratching our stories into their frozen surfaces, and you write about adventures you'll never have and places you'll never go with a girl I wish I could always be. And I write about
then again, maybe.maybe i am the reason this bed is emptyemptyempty but for one.then again, maybe.5 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
maybe i am the explanation for the way the tires are peeling out or the way youve already changed your voicemail to me instead of we. maybe i am the excuse for the way our love has a white flag and is curled in the corner, calling mercymercymercy.
maybe i am the poison-tongue and killing-hands that you tell me i am, maybe you deserve someone who doesnt unravel like yarn in the afternoon, click their tongue against their mouth and expect you to help gather the pieces and put them back together in the evening.
maybe i am toomuchtoomuchtoomuch for anyone to ever expect to decipher, understand, control. maybe i am too hot (you did run with burned hands), maybe i am too wild (you did run with barbed wire-scars), maybe i am too irrepressible (you did run spitting saltwater from your lungs). maybe i am more than enough, maybe i am.
then again, maybe i am unruly like wild horses and you just were
hearts are for rebuilding_ci.hearts are for rebuilding_c5 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
when i remember you, i remember the way you laughed when i mixed up teaspoons and tablespoons.
i remember the way you refused to eat the cake because you said it was too salty and the way i stood crying over the sink when i shoved it down the disposal. i remember how you left me standing in the middle of the floured, sugared, baked-on-mess kitchen to finish the tivo-game, patting me on the back and saying nice try.
it was when i was wiping my tears with the back of my hand that i best remember holding my heart close, telling it nice try. maybe next time wed fall in love with someone who saw us when they looked, who cared about stomping all over the most vulnerable of spots.
when i remember you, i remember crashing out of love.
i know it was bittersweet, but i cant remember anything but the burn.
and now i am thinking maybe the cake was too salty. maybe my hands shook when i was making it because you were standing behind me, your laureate finge
look, she's crying over him.five years ago--look, she's crying over him.5 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
we were all elbows and sheltered self-esteems. we werent noticing each other except for bumping knees and walking into each other when walking around corners. we were nameless faces in the middle of the dance floor and hesitant hands touching. i was teaching you how to move gawky feet and a stiff spine, you were hitched-laughter fogging over my ear. we were wide eyes and gangly legs and fast music. we were bubble-gum-breath and coca-cola-fingers, breaking apart like nervous colts at the end of the song.
and all the parents said: look, how sweet, shes his first dance.
two years ago--
we were all chewed-on-lips and wrung-together fingers. we were orbiting alone until we crashed blindly together. we were reintroducing with shaking hands and getting swung onto the dance floor with free-falling-breath. you were taller, faster, taking my old moves and spicing them with your own. you were flipping me over your arm and i was hovering my mo
You and I,we're a stunted little paragraph blowing in the wind,You and I,5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
full of maybes and we could have beens.
We're winter nights dancing through the sky,
dreaming of warmth and summer, burntskin sunscreen.
We're fruits hanging from a tree,
ripe with promise and fearing bitter seeds.
We're dripping photographs in darkrooms waiting to become something beautiful.
You and I, we're not fancy like fireworks. Sparks
are the little lights that dance between us when we smile.
Sparks are private things and they shine more prettily
when no one else can see them except you and me.
So when I write poetry about us,
it won't be about mountains and kisses
and rosebushes vomiting bouquets.
Because this is what I want to tell the world:
the both of us, we're stones and branches and imperfect things.
And that's exactly why we fit.
consider this just one more.i need you to stop needing me.consider this just one more.5 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
you don't know, but you're living a lie. you're closing your eyes and pretending i'm something i'm not. you're pretending i'm lovely and stable and precious. you're pretending i'm returning this kiss.
you're breathing down my neck and twisting my hair between your fingers, saying we could be something beautiful if i would just slow down. you're swearing we could be a sundust and milky way love story if i would just stop running away all the time.
you're calling me baby, you're calling me darling, you're trying to hold my hand and ignoring the fact that i'm shaking with anxiety. your salty lips keep misfiring and landing on my jaw, your greedy fingers keep tearing my coattails apart.
can't you see? i'm a mistake that you're trying to rearrange into something lyrical, a disaster that you're trying to pretend is miraculous. when really i'm anything but.
in reality i'm knocking down vases and ripping the mona lisa in half, i'm tripping down the stairs and cra
writewhatyouknow.one.writewhatyouknow.5 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
i always thought of you as my summer boy,
with hair like sunflowers and eyes like stormy skies.
you would skip rocks over ponds and hearts,
(and whisper lies to the trees)
you tried to fly with the seagulls once
while i floated in the water.
i watched you come crashing down
(your face isnt so bright anymore)
you got dirt in your tears.
i always thought you had the goofiest smile,
but i couldnt hold it against you
because you were happy.
(and i think i was just jealous.)
you were milky white skinned, with the most beautiful imperfections-
you always had the most haunting eyes,
the kind that saw secrets a seven year old boy shouldnt see.
(you were the coldest first crush a girl could ever have)
and i hate you for not warning me.
and i told the others, you know
i asked them but they wouldnt answer.
(and im sure you're quite content,
to make the puppets dance.)
but the strings are made of wire,
and its slicing you
dying to feel alive.we are the living.dying to feel alive.5 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
we are the revolutionaries finding adventures on the tip of our frost-bitten noses, the pirates braving the raging ocean, the radicals setting our veins on fire. we are the buccaneers stealing hearts and leaving names behind, the insurgents tearing apart continents and draining the mighty rivers.
we are the rebels causing riots in the middle of the streets, the mutineers screaming songs at the top of our lungs, the bandits writing poems in all caps or with none at all. we are the ones making rules just to break them, slashing paint across canvases and calling the wounds art, tearing up roses to plant wildflowers because we can't stand to see beauty so trimmed and refined.
we are the ones who believe in beauty that's raw and half-ugly, that's stumbling with scraped-up knees and chapped lips. we are the ones who believe in art that's vulnerable and shaken, that's hoarse and gritty, that's not polished and kept in a vault but covered in sand and strewn across foggy beac
letters to me.dear five-year-old-me,letters to me.5 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
i hope you know that life is a gift. i hope that when you walk out on the back patio and see the hills and the deer and the creek you know that life is marvelous. i wish for you to run through the mud and roll around with your dog and climb up trees with bleeding knees. i hope for nothing more than for you to swing until your legs are tired from pumping and your hair is snarled in knots around your face.
and listen to me: i know it isnt always easy. i know that you cant eat american cheese because you were born with high-cholesterol, i know you have to share your room and your sister broke your favorite doll. and i know it hurts when they sell your horse, when your dog dies, when you move away from everything youve ever known.
but youre five, you're resilient.
life will continue to bless you.
i hope you know that you are beautiful. i hope that when you look in the mirror you dont lament over round c