Againi.Again5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
She was the quiet one
Who faded into the backdrop of glossy high school yearbook pages
Waiting for her Prince and her happy ending, although he never came in time for Prom
She was the kind of girl who was too eager to please anyone
And apologized over and over again, for herself and for everyone
Though no one paid her much attention anyway
She first fell for him
When he brushed her trembling lips with his steady ones
Alas, she fell for those honest eyes and gentle hands
That made her heart feel several sizes too big,
Threading promises of happiness and offering her the world
So that she pledged her heart on a silver plate to this Prince, and never looked back
She married him
On a November day, under a sky as sharp and cold as a knife
In a flurry of discounted second-hand wedding dresses and cheap champagne
Complete with a single wilting bouquet for the blushing bride
And a ring from the pawnshop that was a size too small
But she donned it despite the pain, and smiled to ple
6 Painful Truths About MeNYoui.6 Painful Truths About MeNYou5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I feel like a grenade just went off in my head and your words are the shrapnel buried in my brain.
I wish I could erase the marks on my thighs but they will always say fuck you and remind me of what you did to me.
I can never sleep anymore because every time I do you turn my dreams into nightmares. I would try sleeping pills but I'm afraid one will turn to two, three, and four, and then I would surely overdose and crumple to the floor.
My knees still hurt from begging you to stay but you said I was pathetic and wasting my time. I guess you were right.
I saw my reflection in the mirror earlier and didn't appreciate what I saw. I punched the mirror hoping I would fall to pieces just as my reflection would. You broke everything I thought I used to be; now I hate all that I see.
I wanted us to last longer but I ran out of words and you ran out of patience and we both ran out of time. Now I have nothing left but cold bed sheets and this goddamned rhyme.
Castle of MemoriesFaded tapestries drip like cold molasses from the stone walls of your memory. Not an inch is uncovered in the castle as you walk along the carpet before you, charred with burned bridges. Somber portraits line your steps, woven carelessly through the fabric. Many are altogether unrecognizable, having hung in the same spot for so long.Castle of Memories5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Colors blend grotesquely into ugly, twisted shapes, unbearable to look upon for more than a second. If you can find it in you, delve deeper than the colossal mess of wild and unruly spirals. There are horses and people, buildings and books. They connect. Although their pictures are no longer clear, can you still feel the emotions? Anger. Fear. Jealousy. Pain. Do you sense them without your eyes to guide you?
Unspoken thoughts are scrawled haphazardly beneath each captured moment. They are there, not in hopes that someone else may stumble upon them and read, but so you don't allow yourself to accidentally forget. They are for relearning and reteaching. Each
InsomniaSleeping is a joy that I'll never know,Insomnia11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
ever brief slumber as I close my eyes,
never to know the comforts of true rest,
my heart is too heavy to let me sleep.
Endless torture in my waking hours,
my patience is being tried too much now,
never ceasing pain, deep within my soul,
overwhelmed to the point of lacking speech.
Immeasurable is my affliction,
incalculabe is my dejection,
unfathomable is my impairment.
My plea for freedom is never granted,
I am trapped here for all eternity,
my gaze will endure, everlastingly,
my confused heart will never rest again.
tautegorical -collabSomedays, I'm the sound of slamming doorstautegorical -collab7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Shutting out the whisper of threehundredandsixty apologies
That maybe just don't deserve to be heard
And still other days, I'm television static
Surfing channels faster than fingers can click
Speaking through the mixed up voices
Of every game show grin, sitcom laugh reel and car crash news anchor out there
Trying to piece together the sentences I've been meaning to say
Since maybe my words aren't enough
Even if they are saying the same thing
[I'm almost fairly sure you deserve prettier phrases
than these chapped lips could ever mumble]
And Im standing here in crumbling doorways
Pulling suburban needles from your veins before
The infection spreads; tell me if beyond your
Glassy-eyed stares you can feel something
All I want to know is that beyond the numbness
That is suffocating your bones and crush
we're all standing still.He's not coming back this time.we're all standing still.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
It's hard to remember that sometimes when a door shuts, it just stays closed. There's no other consequence. No other opportunity. Just one more way you can't go. One more person that you can't follow. Sometimes, you're just as stuck as you feel so it doesn't matter if the earth travels one million six hundred thousand miles through space every day. You are in the same place as yesterday so all that other movement is just superfluous. It's not bringing anyone closer together. It's not going toward any sort of destination. There is no end. No point. It's just ceaseless movement through an ever-expanding universe that only keeps getting bigger until you're simply a tiny pinpoint that feels absolutely alone. And meaningless. Unnecessary. And all of this just makes it feel overwhelmingly true.
The truth is most of the roads here only go one way.
Some days, you believe you can get out of here and live somebody else's life in some other place and with all of th
one more step.it's nights like this that make me wish i could gnash mountains between my teeth and drain the stars from the sky. it's nights like this that leave my limbs cold and my hands crackling so i'm on the floor trying to pick up all the pieces littered in the corners. theoretically, if i decompose, i'll find a way to compose myself before morning, but such a composition would never be music to the bleeding composite tongue binding around me.one more step.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
[i'm wailing on the airwaves, trying find the right frequency, but it's hard to hear my thoughts around all the static.]
the wind is too cold for june and my heart is too frosted for the heat of this love charring all my bones. they say distance makes the heart grow fonder, but they forgot to mention that it also makes the heart cramp and ache and swell. they forgot to mention that distance maims and time cripples and you'll be dead-exhausted swimming against the tide of wants and desires building up the shorelines around you. you'll collapse on the sand
bleeding ink-throats_c.I'm forgetting how to pump these rotting thoughts through my grasping, skeletal fingertips. I'm a well run dry and the only thing left is the bucket at my feet, cracked and aging; blank, broken pages with nothing left to say. And all my body's wishing for is a way to spell the words that will write you back into my arms. Because you're a thousand miles and a million wishes away and I'm starting to believe I've just got no words left to say.bleeding ink-throats_c.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I am bleeding syllables and pulling phrases from between my teeth, but they're broken and empty. I know if I breathe my poisoned sorrow into your mouth, your lips will dry and your flesh will crack and the beauty of your wordless joy will turn vile with the hopelessness of my wordy existence. Perhaps we should live in silence and bury my words under the porch. Perhaps we should turn our cheeks to the strung-together sentences of my questions. Perhaps we should just run into muted existence and forget how with each separate vowel, I am digging up
MIESOMIĘSOMIESO8 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Pani Lusia... pasowała do swojego imienia. Lusia kojarzy się z miłą, przysadzistą kobietką o nieznacznej tuszy. Pani Lusia była miła i przysadzista, tuszę miała nieznaczną. Pani, nie panna, co znaczy że za sobą miała wizytę w Urzędzie Stanu Cywilnego.
Mąż jej, Rajmund, obchodził właśnie dziś, dnia 18 stycznia 19XX roku swoje trzydzieste szóste urodziny. Jako taksówkarz, lubił dobrze zjeść, dlatego Lusia stała w kolejce po mięso. Nie byle jakie, planowała kupić wołowinę bez kości. Rarytas. Wsunęła rękę do wewnętrznej kieszeni palta w jodełkę, gdzie trzymała portmonetkę. Dotyk sztruksowego materiału uspokajał ją, był biletem do uszczęśliwienia męża.
Właściwie to nie planowała
Shes the Girl Nobody Noticesi.Shes the Girl Nobody Notices5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
She was the girl with the burnt orange skin and blonde highlights. Her skin emitted UV rays from too many trips to the tanning bed and she changed her hair color more often than the calendar changed months. She only wanted to fit in but it just made her stand out even more.
She was the girl who would always use cherry lip-balm because she knew it was his favorite flavor. Her kisses made his knees weak and her will power too so one kiss would turn to two, three, and four. Then a week later she was pregnant and everyone was calling her a whore.
She was the girl with wings made of scotch-tape and printer paper. She tried to fly when she was 7 but she ended up just falling off the roof and breaking her collarbone and right arm. Her wings were torn to shreds and so were her hopes of becoming somebody's angel. She swears she will find better material and a more suitable launching pad and one day she will flutter instead of crash into the floor.
She was the girl who had always
congratulations, you just diedyou fucked the Grim Reaper,congratulations, you just died6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and i won the lottery. if this
is good luck or bad grammar,
i'll never know. i'd say karma
if i wasn't so homicidal, but at
least i don't screw entities (or)
screw the academy,
i'd like to thank you.
but who are you, exactly?
or rather, who aren't you?
well, i know for a fact:
you are not the love of my life.
you are not the life of my love.
you might be the death of me;
you could be the death of love.
perhaps just the love of Death.
i heard Death got married last march.
i wasn't invited. i never am. oh well.
i bet the wedding was like a funeral--
the Death of bachelorhood. the end
of loneliness. the birth of matrimony.
i heard there was a massacre
at the reception party. one of
Death's cousins set the church
on fire. Arson, i believe. Envy,
maybe. i don't know, maybe it
was his sister, Disappointment,
or his brother, Murder. anyway,
burasindaKafesler içinde, var birşeyler var da uzaklık baki. Hep yollar yordamlar diyorsun bana, bir duralım, girmeden içeri sen, ben nereye gidiyorum bil sen.burasinda6 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
It's okay to have cheesecakeI get overwhelmed quickly if there's too much of something,It's okay to have cheesecake7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
That's why I steer clear of long lists
I hate Dora the Explorer.
We like TV, but it doesn't make us happy.
So why do we spend hours in front of it
Instead of doing things we like?
TV is a narcotic. We're addicted.
I'm compulsive. I inhale food.
I don't want it. I'm not hungry.
I need more.
I have no self control.
I act on impulse.
If I want something, I need it now.
I'm obsessive. I have intrusive thoughts
About death and scary images.
I stayed up late to watch a show that I thought would be good.
But I still watched it.
I like even colors, numbers and days of the week.
Yellow, green, orange, white.
2, 4, 6, 8.
Thursday, Friday, Saturday.
It doesn't make a difference though.
It's just being irrational.
I complain about washing dishes.
But I don't mind it.
I sort the dishes in a certain way.
Spoons, forks, and knives first.
Little plates, medium size plates, big pl
ReptilianI fancy you, forReptilian8 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
you are my alligator
please don't eat my heart
chronophobia_c.the sky is dark and the ground is falling and you're holding my hand and asking me why my nerves are trembling in the middle of my palms. you're wondering at the quakes in my lips and the tsunamis breaking on the edges of my fingernails as they rack against your skeleton. you're pressing the curling edges of my pages together, straightening the spine of my molting book as i do my best to unravel at your feet. you're holding me close and whispering into my neck, asking me why i am afraid. asking me why i tremble and jerk like a bass caught on a line. asking me why the sun is reflected and lost in the whites of my anxious eyes. and my answer will come like the end of the world, whimpered into the sharp blades of your shoulder, rising and crashing as i tell you that which i fear most: time.chronophobia_c.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I can tell by the way your hackles rise and you dig your toes into the sands as the hands on the clock begin to close in on another midnight separation, that just a little is just too much and