With the Strength of a Child His ripped shirt is barely visible in the dust and smoke. He kneels in the rubble, bloody faded jeans loose on his hips, tan skin lined with ragged cuts and bruises underneath. Long dark hair, now dusty white and matted with blood, ripples in the wind like a tattered flag of surrender.
He can't feel the pain.
Broken jaws whisper of sadness.
Broken voices scream of loss.
And his broken eyes turn toward the ground, shadowed with fear and weakness. He clutches his head in scarring hands, ignoring the sharp debris biting his legs. He stares vacantly at the cracked concrete lying in the dust.
He can't see it at all.
Young eyes glisten with tears.
too young to give up| shy boy |too young to give up4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
- regrets every moment;
- is scared of truth;
- buries his head in a pillow and cries,
This isn't the way it was meant to be.
| broken boy |
- trembles because he doesn't like silence;
- tries to fit the pieces of his heart back together;
- bites his lip and whispers,
I hate this part.
| determined boy |
- dreams of hot summer breezes;
- kisses uncertainty goodbye;
- looks her in the eye and says,
I'm all that you ever wanted.
he grits his teeth and murmurs,
I'm going to make you happy.
[she has no idea]
Injection She gripped my arm tightly and looked at me with eyes as black as sin. "This won't hurt."Injection4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I nodded, not meeting her gaze. "I know."
I wasn't looking, but I still felt the needle. She held my hand and ripped my skin apart, whispering lovely burning pain. I felt the cold in my veins as my pulse quickened and I forgot how to breathe.
I can't even describe the agony she gave me. I felt fire in my heart and I passed out from the pain.
She injected poison and called it the cure.
And now I try to smile and my lips start to bleed. When I look at her my stained heart aches. My eyes burn and I don't know why.
An Angel's DespairThe throbbing pain against her ripped jeans had gone numb, as had the cold bloodstained pavement, covered with shattered glass. In the whirling haze of lashing wind she could still see the thundering clouds of night. She whispered in darkness, rain wet against her cracked lips, "I broke my wings."An Angel's Despair4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
just another desperationheartbeat(en)just another desperation3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
- bruises cover his skin like trophies of failure, the dull pain throbbing to the rhythm of his pulse. his veins are hot, too hot, and his heart beats violently in his aching chest, burning with adrenaline.her gaze makes him feel so weak.
- his cheekbones are lined with scars that blind his eyes and make him afraid. choked with rage and helplessness, he screams with fear, his voice soaked with blood and sweat,
- you're breaking me.but she looks away and tigerboy slams him to pieces.
- poor little beaten boy, crying doesn't help.
- he presses his face against the asphalt to hide the tears. it feels like waves of pain are drowning him; he gasps for air. he feels a girl's hand on his shoulder,
- are you okay?
- he feels like he's going to suffocate, there's tears and blood smeared across his lips. lashing out, trying to defy his pain, he slams his fist on the
Bleeding HeroHow can I explain my feelings to you? My bitter, tarnished love, how it burns in my throat like too much soda. How I hate that I love you more than you know. But I love you all the same.Bleeding Hero4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I am the burnt-out streetlight under the falling night sky. The fleeting joy of a balloon that slips away to the clouds. And I'm sick of band-aids that don't work, I'm sick of being the bleeding hero.
Don't you realize what I'm worth? You dropped me like a penny on the street corner and everything went black. I gave you a choice and you ripped my love to shreds.
Love isn't what I read about in sweet-dream magazines. It's not worth the doubt, but I doubt even that. I can't fit this band-aid on my broken heart.
You are everything to me, but I don't even know what everything is anymore. You used to burn in my thoughts, but not anymore. I'll let go of the balloon and I'll drink a sweeter poison.
I am the world's worst Romeo.
Betrayal of Morphine She was sitting beside the small boy's bed when he opened his shadowy eyes. The first thing he noticed was her hair: it was golden and glowing faintly. He couldn't remember if hair normally did that or not, but it hurt him to look at her; she, like sunlight, burned his eyes in the darkness. In the dim room, in his numb thoughts, the girl's hair looked like a halo, and he imagined he saw her unfold wings and fly away, but then he blinked and she was still there.Betrayal of Morphine4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The first things the girl noticed were his eyes. They were dark and clouded with pain, flashing like a stormy sky or an emergency light on a sinking ship. They flickered like incandescents losing power; his pupils dilated as he blinked, struggling to focus on her. She looked at the IV meter indicating the level of failing platelets and morphine, and the machine hummed as she watched the blood swirl unfaithfully.
The Boy in a Sweater of TearsI saw a boy in a sweater made of tears and dirt,The Boy in a Sweater of Tears3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Held together with earthworm stitching (they were still wriggling).
He had a toy in his hand made from the bones of an animal;
Fingers bloodied and calloused from where he cut himself on the teeth of it.
He smiled out from behind his saline muddy hood.
Are you my father?
I walked away with no misgivings though this face was familiar.
I tossed a coin over my left shoulder and said something condescending like
Have a gum ball on me, kid.
I put in my headphones and I was lost in my world of rhythm and melody.
The sound of quick feet emanating behind me.
I turned and he was there, hand outstretched.
I patted my pockets as if to say
Dreams Like Smoke I'm a burnt-out boy with a broken guitar and three wishes to spare. I sleep with them under my pillow and try to dream of happiness. But I know that you'll disappear if I open my eyes. So I told you I thought I loved you but you just looked at me with those eyes and saidDreams Like Smoke4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
This isn't a fairytale, lover boy.
We both know I'm too young to recognize the taste of tears.
I wished for fiery passion.
And your lips tasted like ashes.
I wished that you'd see me for who I am.
Shipwrecked GloryThe sailor stands proud and defiant against the whipping wind and rain. This man challenges the rage of the skies, daring the sea to unleash its worst in a tempest the likes of which has driven veteran mariners from their posts in fear.Shipwrecked Glory3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Silhouetted against the storm clouds, his eyes blaze like the beacon of a lighthouse in the night. This is his passion.
His hair ripples in the wind like a victorious flag, damp with ocean spray. He bares his teeth to the sky. This is his courage.
His muscles tense against his skin, aching with confidence and power. His heart pounds: he feels as though he could rip the clouds down himself. This is his strength.
This is his glory.
More than a decade later, the sailor stands silent and lonely in the glare of the setting sun, three days from harbour, surrounded by the lashing of bitter winds and the sweet disappointment of a life as a sailor.
He gazes, hawk-like, over the water. His eyes glitter like the sea, and the broken glass of shattered dreams. This
One Last Time"I don't love her," I protest.One Last Time3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
But I'm not even fooling myself.
I keep waiting to feel your thorns.]
"I love you," she whispers.
Lies taste so sweet on her lips.
UnexpectedUnexpected5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I watched him carefully. He didn't notice because he was concentrating on his hands as he twisted the Rubiks cube again and again. His long blonde hair was blowing silently in the wind, and his lips curving slightly in the silence. He was good confident and quick, but I wasnt surprised. Id taught him everything I knew about how to solve a Rubiks cube, and he was a great learner.
He spun it around twice and smiled with his eyes. I still don't know how he does it, but he smiles without moving his lips. His eyes were alight with excitement, a deep gray-blue, like an icy cold ocean. Yet warm, somehow. I pretended not to notice how they shone when he looked at me.
He looked back at the cube and his eyes narrowed in concentration and his tongue darted out to wet his lips in the wind. I looked down to the Rubiks cu
Brokenboy7.Brokenboy3 years ago in Write Memoirs More Like This
He's on his way home from school, happily clutching a big blue birthday candle.
His mom looks at him lovingly, "Happy birthday."
The car spins out of control and he screams. His mom grits her teeth and slams her foot on the brake pedal. A truck speeds towards them, horn blaring, but it's too late; she reaches for him and cries, "I love "
When he wakes up from the coma, she's already gone.
" you," his dad whispers angrily, cheeks wet with tears.
The boy starts to tremble in his hospital bed. "Dad?"
"Why are you alive, when she's " his dad's voice breaks, "she's "
"I'm cold," his voice is barely above a whimper.
His dad presses his fist against the boy's bruised chest. "I loved her," he gasps, leaving the room.
The boy curls up, hugging his knees. He wonders dully if the doctor's monitors reveal his broken heart.
A year later, he's alone in his room.
"Remember how when I was little if I had a nightmare you'd wake me up, and then I'd fall asl
tears laced with poisonthis little lost boytears laced with poison4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and his throat
has a broken heart
with a rhythm
this lost little boy
How My Eyes Are Glowing The worst part is the people all around us. I wish I could ignore them, but I am too nervous to look into your eyes, and I have to look somewhere.How My Eyes Are Glowing4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
It's the kids that are too scared to dance. You know, the ones that make a joke out of it and pretend they don't care, pretend it doesn't bother them that they are all alone. I hate the ones that wink at me slyly or grin and snap a photo, blinding me and making my cheeks burn.
I glare as hard as I can, believe me.
But it's kind of hard to glare when you see blue dots everywhere.
You smile at me and I look down shyly, not knowing what to say. And you whisper something, but I can't hear over the music and my heart pounding. I just see your mouth move and I bite my lip uncertainly, not meeting your dar
spare change.so i dreamt of you last night.spare change.4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
as usual, you are with me, but as usual, i can't find you. so i scream your name, again and again until my throat goes raw and i wake, with my fists clenched, swallowing my sobs.
and i see him there, lying peacefully on his side, stray strands of hair fluttering under his breath as he sleeps. i look at him and your name pops into mind, but it's wrong.
i fear i'll say something i shouldn't, and he'll just love me more. i know when he wakes, he'll flash me a smile that breaks hearts. he'll ask for a morning kiss, and that's when your name will run repeatedly over and over in my head and spill over onto my lips. and i'll pray he doesn't taste it there.
he'll run the tub for me, somehow knowing the perfect temperature and amount of soap suds. he'll wash my hair for me, fingers trailing along my skin, and my tears will fall into the mixture of warm water and bubbles, leaving no trace, just a little extra salt.
he'll make me coffee, a pot of warmth and c
And I need more than simpleBreath is caught in my throat until IAnd I need more than simple3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
on my own words.
I could write about your
blue sunflower-stained eyes
that look inside me; ache tremors
from my fingers to my gut
to my shaking knees.
Maybe I could puff out
soft hushes about the way you
purse your lips against
my shoulder blade and
send charges down my spine,
but I can only exhale
Sleepless NightsMy bloodshot eyes are stained with black, circled by dark rings of sleepless nights and smudged ink. I have a permanent headache, my mind singing bloody hymns with battered rhythm and broken voice; my failing vision clouded by smoke and cracked glass.Sleepless Nights4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Words leak out of my skull, seeping like black tar; they burn my skin like the sting of elusive flames. I have broken promises tattooed on my chest.
And this is how it feels to have your imagination chained to your heart.
I lower my ink-stained hand to ravaged paper, and words trickle out of my veins.
The man looks up through shadow-filled lashes. His desperation drifts like smoke through the air with the heavy sound of his quiet voice:
What must I do to be happy?
I drink poison; ink washes over my tongue with the bittersweet taste of inspiration. These words are my prison: whispers of loss drift across my heart.
But this is the life I created; I write down my dreams and they become n
Never Enough Big brother looks so broken, all covered in tubes and needles. I want to rip them out of his wrists and take him home. I want him to play with me and laugh like he used to.Never Enough4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
My little brother stands in the doorway of my hospital room. I hate to see him cry. He looks so alone.
He blinks through his tears and looks at me mournfully, "Mum and Dad say there's a way for me to help you."
I feel a rush of adrenalin and look away from him, watching my heart rate spike on the monitor. I don't want him to help me; he's in enough pain already. I won't allow them to put him through surgery with false hope, just because it might change my prognosis.
Realizing that he's still watching me with tears on his cheeks, I look back. "No," I say, trying to be
Different SolutionsJuly 8, 2006, 9:13 AMDifferent Solutions5 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Grandpa died today. I just found out by a neighbor of his who called me up. Just thought I'd write this down before I went down there to claim myself as his grandson. My counselor said this kind of thing [Journal Writing] is good for release without injuring anything. So this should definitely be something worth writing about, but I guess I better go down before someone else claims him before I do.
July 8, 2006, 12:28 PM
Got down here no problems at all. Stopped for food, but that's about it. Found out how Grandpa died. Heart attack. Went through some of his stuff. Most of it is for everyone else. Have to call them up and let them know, since they are all far away. Found Grandpa's journal. Skimming through it, I found many entries about a girl who went by his house everyday.
What I Now Know.one day you will understand:What I Now Know.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
fireworks are made of
chemistry and calculations.
they will turn to smoke
faster than they bloom.
one day you will realise that magic
is mostly lies.
Victim of Love I guess we knew this would happen,Victim of Love4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
somewhere deep down inside,
things I wish I'd never told you,
all the thoughts I had to hide.
It might have been inevitable,
something faded in your heart,
I never thought to fill the silence,
and we're drifting apart.
Another starry-eyed romantic,
forever lost in the the lonesome night,
the moon sings of her returning,
I won't go down without a fight.
I could tell you that I miss you,
The Post*The Post4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The blue mail-satchel bumps and sways, brings them in,
rigid with the weight of promise;
envelopes, dessert-colored, a delicacy,
the brittle folds filled with scent,
a creme transfer over time, to me.
I open each with the reverence
of seashells and oceanic loves.
I cut apart the shore that separates us
with a letter-opener, the sound of water.
You have arrived
before your body.
I settle into my pulse
and the resounding ambiance of my privacy
while your words touch my lips.
We stand in our reamed maze of consent--
faces, throats thrumming
on parallel shoulders;
a doorway, at dusk;
a barefoot dance sung over by birds.
We are two of the same one;
the twin elements of time:
now and Then
--before and after--
not opposed. Of the same origin,
a substance pared from itself.
The dawn is your precision.
The long hair of rain,
the history of sound. You stand,
hands over your heart, eyelids li
Pseudo-love-- [we are hiding from pain.]Pseudo-love3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
For the first time she notices his hands are covered in scars. He follows her gaze and his eyes grow worried.
"What " she starts to say, but her voice trails off.
Eventually he answers her unspoken question. "When I was three my dad got smashed and gave me a knife to play with.
My mom came home and found me covered in blood and crying."
She's shocked. "Didn't it hurt?"
"Hell yes. But I didn't know the knife was causing it." He pauses. "I think he broke her heart."
She doesn't know what to say. He's watching her, waiting for a reaction.
Finally he pulls down his sleev