RememberWhen your heart is gripped with terrorRemember6 years ago in Think Pink III More Like This
And the world begins to seem
Like it's crumbling down around you;
In a horrifying dream.
When you're sick of all the sobbing
The uncertainty and pain;
And it doesn't seem like anything
Could be the same again.
Just remember, girl, you're gorgeous
From your skin down to your core.
Change doesn't mean you're any less
The woman you were before.
Remember, we're more proud of you
With every passing day
Don't forget that we all love you
Now and always come what may.
...other metastatic failuresContrite sweetness,...other metastatic failures8 years ago in Tell Me a Lie More Like This
feel me on saccharine sheets
masking leveled edicts of
feel you ache-wishing
you could break
the seething shades
of sunlight leaving
each crystalline breath--
it's a promise, lover,
working toward nonchalance
I'll choose not to see your
slowly shrouded high-rise
The Rat and the DollSome time ago there lived a Rat of fine whiskers and a finer tail who stumbled across a small porcelain Doll in a farmer's rubbish heap. Entranced by the Doll's beauty, he carried her home with him and, to the amusement of his fellow rats, instated her as his wife. Finding that she was of little assistance in his daily rambles for food, the Rat placed her upon a slight ledge of the barn in which he lived and brought her an offering of sustenance each day, as well as flowers and other pretty objects with which to enhance her loveliness.The Rat and the Doll4 years ago in Fable Me This More Like This
One day the Rat returned from his foraging to find the other rats throwing pebbles at his Doll. "Stop!" he cried. "Why do you abuse my wife? What has she ever done to you?"
"She does nothing at all," said the other rats, "and that is the problem. How has she proven herself worthy of the attention you grant her, or the offerings you provide?"
"Her beauty proves her worth," claimed the Rat.
But at that moment, a gust of wind swept the Doll off her perch an
last night cracks...last night cracks...8 years ago in In The End Poetry Comp More Like This
Last night cracks, falls away
beneath an unfading lightó
the world twirls relentlessly
spinning through nothing at all
walking a life of unbeing:
being unable to not unlive.
Sure the moon gets ogled (as it,
in fact, should) by poets and lovers,
the stars each night, launch a thousand
The Crane WifeThe Crane Wife4 years ago in Fable Me This More Like This
The Crane Wife
Does that bird
think of bygone times
as it flies singing...
- Princess Nukada
There on the poor man's doorstep,
an arrow biting into my wing,
I flew into the arms of decision
my cries calling clouds,
even to the brow of Moon:
I would not be this;
kindness come to me,
and songs of a different flesh,
irresistibly new. That was why,
sped to health, I fled only to return
to the poor man's doorstep
a bird no more, a woman of silk.
And how the bamboo blinds
quivered with the storms of Spring;
how Wind shook Moon in the p
november.the day i was born was not a day of sparkling stars and soft-spoken lullabies, of rose-colored memories and warm autumn hearts. time did not stand still, but instead slipped between shrill cries and bitter words. but i would not know; i was not there. i cannot remember my first breath, and i cannot remember what i saw the first time i opened my eyes. but perhaps i never really learned to breathe perhaps my eyes never opened after all.november.4 years ago in Write Memoirs More Like This
when i turned five, i discovered the art of being alone.
i learned that there is no celebration song when you are twenty-three hundred miles from where you belong and your family has fluttered off into the sky. i was trapped at the foot of a stranger's bed, a salty ocean tide dripping down my face. though i had no candles to put out, i figured memories of a thirteen-year-old's cigarette smoke were substitute enough i wished california would fall into the sea so this desert would feel more home.
when i turned six,
FreezingFreezing7 years ago in Winter Flash More Like This
Ive heard it said that freezing to death is not actually a bad way to die. Well, I think Ive been slowly freezing to death every winter for the past ten years, and its not a pleasant way to die either. I wonder how anyone came to that conclusion, since nobody whos been through the whole process is really in a condition to speak about it. I think its maybe just supposed to be the late stages of it that arent bad, and maybe I havent been that far, but it still seems to me that if its bad for a while it doesnt really matter if its not that bad right at the end.
Anyway, my opinion surely counts as much as anyones. Ive been through part of it, after all, repeatedly. It is as if every September I begin getting colder and colder until March when I slowly start to get warm. Its usually August before I feel completely warmed, and then of course the cycl
PROSE What Spies DoMy dad is a rock. He is solid, he is powerful. He can still pick me up and toss me over his shoulder. He is never seen to cry, he can never be swayed or damaged by opinion. He is a real estate agent, and he pushes those deals and sways those clients with confidence and experience. He flexes his arms at the dinner table when I ask him and points exactly which way it is to the beach or the gun show. He is a tree, a mountain, a thick and formidable presence in any room, in any place, against any person.PROSE What Spies Do7 years ago in Literature Submissions More Like This
Hes late, my mom said, and pursed her lips through the steam of her hot dinner plate.
My brother pushed a floret of broccoli with his fork. Cant we just start without him?
Absolutely not. She frowned. God help us if we become one of those families that never eats together. Its an important part of your childhood, and so ma
All I Want For ChristmasAll I Want For Christmas9 years ago in Poetry More Like This
Oh, all I want for Christmas is a smaller set of breasts:
Forget about the candy canes, the eggnog and the rest.
Hey Santa, if you're listening then let me really stress,
I mean it when I say I need to 'get this off my chest'!!!
I 'member how I used to play in mother's cast-off clothes;
The evening dress, the high heels and the baggy pantyhose.
I'd stuff my top with kleenex 'til the bodice hit my nose:
Gee, whoda thunk I'd end up with a pair bigger than those?!?!?!
When older, I tried basketball but I'd just end up sore.
I'd bounce the ball across the court but both my breasts bounced more!
And golf was just a waste of time-I seldom had a score:
My boobs just checked my swing before I even could yell 'Fore!'
Now, I can hear you laughing but you really have no clue,
Just what it's like to jump rope and end up all black and blue!
I'd wear the tightest bra I could, but what's a girl to do?
No matter how I'd bind 'em they just grew and grew and GREW.
Yes, Dolly with her triple D's does rea