let go, little bird--hope is the tired little bird at the bottom of your heart, the one whose tiny wings are broken and bleeding, the one that won't stop flapping uselessly at the sky, like it's going to take off, take off dammit, even when it's fading by the second and dying in a heap of feathers, and it breaks your heart to see the optimistic flame still sparkling in such innocent eyes.
i'm writing this to tell you that i don't know what i need. i'm writing this because i can't pull any fancy metaphors from the back of my throat to save my pride this time. i'm writing this to see the look on your face when you wake up and wonder why i keep running away.
hope is the thing with feathers, my broken baby bird. hope is the trust in those newborn eyes that makes you burst out sobbing although you never know why. it's the razor-sharp edge between happiness and pain, the line you try to fly on crippled wings, my little bird, just to save someone stronger from having to walk it for themselves.
for hummingbird lullabies--he is not the kind of boy who chases golden afternoons or dreams of things like bright red ribbons and spiderweb silence and love. he doesn't like metaphors because they never say what they mean and he doesn't like himself because he doesn't know who that is.for hummingbird lullabies--4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
sometimes he draws pictures in the sky with clouds and feels like maybe they mean something. but mostly he forgets to look up.
he likes things in neat, orderly rows. words that come in short sentences with two syllables and clear meanings, but really he doesn't like words at all. on his way home, he passes two shiny pennies, but he's not looking down so he doesn't think to pick them up.
'look,' his mother said one night, pointing at the sky, 'that's the big dipper, and there! that's orion's belt, and that's andromeda!'
but as hard as he tried, all he could see were stars, and so he stopped looking.
he doesn't believe in the magic of finding a quarter in the bottom of his pocket and spending it on gleeful gumballs in celebration; i
my introduction left holesI crave the feel of your scent between my fingertips and the angle at which lust lingers on your lips. I make stars clash in my eyes because darling innocence is a virtue but not as fun as sin. Rip the sun from its chains in the sky. We already shine enough for the moon anyway.my introduction left holes3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"Gosh, I'm sorry." Your weight against my arm singed like you were still there. I just needed your touch again. I guess all contact leaves its mark. I know I left mine on you.
"Are you okay?" My silence was disturbing you. I have a gift for that. I can unsettle someone until their core shatters, and they're picking at their skin on the ground like starving pigeons. Your smile illuminated my hunger for your affection, and you never knew. You initiated the game with a brush of your shoulder and baby I never lose.
My fragile limbs scale your calloused skin. I was never good with introductions. They slide down my throat and echo in the hollows of my lungs. Imcarterit'snicetomeetyouwowyoureyesaresoblue con
this is about forgettingThis is the thing about forgetting:this is about forgetting2 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
For weeks you bury your face in the clothes you wore when he was near and the smell is a comfort and a torture. You decide that the torture is not worth the comfort so you leave them draped across the back of a chair and place things on top of them to stop yourself until one day you shove your hands through the pile until your fingers wrap around the fabric and you yank it free only to realize it was pointless. Even his ghost is gone.
The next thing that leaves is the way his voice looked in the dark. Those few sentences become blurred and rough around the edges. What you remember drops in your stomach in a different way.
You run your fingers over your
You found loveSly shoulders withYou found love4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
tiny bruises not
meant for lovers eyes,
Teeth and wicked collarbones:
You argued in the stairwell,
Fingers flirting with
that pretty dress of green
as you felt yourself asphyxiate.
Her lips, the antidote
to your wildest dreams.
i want to be a real poet.i want you to know thati want to be a real poet.5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you sound like the color yellow.
like sleeping hands or a
violin solo in a symphony
or cold bed sheets in the summer.
i want you to know that
i would remain for eternity if
it meant you would be there,
by my side. i could be your lover -
today, and every day.
i want you to know that
my every molecule screams out
to you. my spine is fractured and
my lungs are collapsing under the
pressure and i'm not sure
how much longer i can take this
but i guess a few more hours
a painting hung all wrong.in a dream.a painting hung all wrong.2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
we find him strung up in our garage
washing line taut. neck bulging.
i covered someone's eyes.
stopped them from remembering,
almost familar features
and blue blue blue blue wide open eyes.
where's someone to cover mine?
i mirror you with swollen throat
my voice thick with blood and screaming.
a painting hung all wrong.
you lied the night you kissed me.there is a thick exhaustion in the pit of my stomach, spreading to my shouldersyou lied the night you kissed me.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
till they hang and to my knees until they buckle. and I will sleep for days on end,
and when I wake up I didn't really.
I hate you dear, I hate you so.
because there is so much to do, I could travel to the other side of the country and
paint a portrait of a stranger and I could sit on top of someone's roof and look at the
stars with a boy I don't want to know and I could fall asleep in his bed and listen to
him playing guitar without clothes and he'd take me out for diner and anywhere I'd
want to go and we'd have sex in his car and on the trampoline in my back yard and
we'd eat at my grandparents with Christmas and it would never be enough because
he's everything you weren't.
I think I lost myself, I think I fell out that time you ran away holding onto me and my
skin tore. I looked for her in that empty hole in your chest cavity, but all I found was
lost so long ago, and you wouldn't show me where it went b
to save you--i.to save you--4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
there is nothing poetic about you.
there are no pauses between your words,
there are no stars lighting up your eyes,
there are no smiles that mean anything to you,
not when you're holding on
instead of letting go.
and yet, if you're so broken,
so ready to drown,
so ready for the way out,
any way out,
how is it that i can hold your face in my hands,
look into your tired eyes and read your soul in
three and a half million words,
you think you're tough?
you think you're strong?
you think you're cold and empty and lonely and done?
and you think you're fooling me with your beautiful words,
your gracefully spun metaphors?
not a chance.
you may not think anyone sees you.
not the sun,
[all it does is shine when you're a thunderstorm begging to explode]
not the stars,
[all they do is dance when you're too tired to take another step]
not the eyes of those you love the most,
[all they do is see what they wa
Ink Stain BruisesI don't hold a pen theInk Stain Bruises4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
way you're supposed to.
I write like a little
to scratch my sick words out
as my hand drags itself
across the page.
And I can't
tell you how much the
on my knuckles look like
from beating myself
And I can't
stand to see me
they don't have words for thisi.they don't have words for this4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
sometimes i can't breathe because i realize
how many choices i make in a day and i become
terrified that i will never again make the right
series of decisions to make me feel whole again
once upon a time i knew who i was but lately
it feels as if i'm getting lost; i've moved to new
streets and fallen asleep to a new smell but
nothing is setting my crooked pulse right
when no one's home i fight the urge to crawl
into bed and close my eyes and relive the moments
i want back the most; i tell myself that when i
open them my life won't be just in my dreams
and i'm starting to think that maybe i took too
many chances and fell too many times in my life
but if someone knows the secret to living without
a tumble then they know the secret to not living at all
maybe i could fix this if i slowed my breathing and
let someone into me to tidy up and make me whole;
maybe i could fix this but this heartandsoulache is
the closest they've been to feeling in a long time
dreams catch in the lungsby the window she sat with cold umbrella bones, laying there just staring at the wooden ceiling. she thought each breath was dying to escape [clogging her littlepores in glassy skin] as they struggled to come slipping out of her mouth. it was like spirits and ghosts in all those books of witches and warlocks, when they came back to the world through the mouth of another.dreams catch in the lungs4 years ago in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
dangling from the crossbeam was a blue beaded dreamcatcher, but she knew it caught hearts and souls in its web and never let them free
[right then she was just so soulless . heartless (like she couldn't feel the breeze or the warm summer leaves) and she knew the dreamcatcher would never catch the nightmares or bring dreams to dancing life. she knew all her fears would happen every day but all she ever wanted would never come to her (they would float along outside the window just behind the glass; she could see them watching her but they would not touch her skin and seep through just as they would not seep t
the opposite of a love letterSometimes, I think you forgot me.the opposite of a love letter4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
To admit it, most days I've forgotten you, too. But sometimes a moment comes along that feels like you in my bones, and suddenly you're crashing through my veins, riding my pulse straight to my heart. And you sit in my chest, heavy and unwelcome, and it's hard to breathe because I cannot shut off the reel of memories playing in my head. So I close my eyes and count to ten, breathe evenly and steadily, tell myself that you are miles and years away. But I wake up the next morning with a dry taste in my mouth and a hollowness somewhere in the pit of my stomach and you're hanging onto me like a shadow even though it's already high noon.
You are a seasonal affliction. During the winter you are buried with the sunlight, but the moment the heat rises and the days lengthen, I can feel you. Last Tuesdays I drove for no reason with the windows down, the scent of fresh rain on hot pavement and shaved grass slapping my face, and it smelled like the curve of your c
dicey.i don't really even knowdicey.4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
where i'm going with
my shoulder bones are broken
and the old woman who brings
me bread has died. what do you
say to that?
the car keys keep dropping to
the asphalt and my snow globe
has hit a thunderstorm.
i wear my necklaces backwards
so the children behind me can
proclaim that the lady in front
is wearing diamonds. no, i'm
the pond out back has frozen
and i walked onto it with the
caution i have obtained over
the years. i waltzed in the middle
until my arms started to ache
from hugging an invisible being.
what would you say if told you
i didn't miss you, i missed your
the price of escape-the price of escape4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
mental mud and dog days:
wanted three cents
to buy a rose. what color she asked him and he
said pink like a newborn rat small
enough to flush between your palms
like moon through mulberry glass.
he is the undulations of a city breathing boat rides.
how can she turn away when
a boy makes her think of building as the
birds do herself a marvel of nesting to be
undone. travel is a painful expansion
and pink roses are
the hard of a new city against cold cheeks.
a flower is always more than a flower it
is a passage or street.
her mother is afraid of the condensation of
his condescension; afraid he'll become a man
who screams whore
while outside the
leaves dip and duck and
the rain cuts everything
up and that word sits like some mad bird
sad bird against her joints and
tendons. hard to dislodge.
but no he's kind and anyway
she would risk anything
for a land
with white lies on trees and music box dancers in
stagnant water, their
voices held hostag
the oracle card in my pocketthe man i love is anthe oracle card in my pocket4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
old soul with a stunning mouth and
he gathers up pieces of me into
his hands and carries me to bed.
Gardening for dummiesHer head is a flowery poem,Gardening for dummies2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
filled with pots and weeds
and mother earth
dug deep in roots and taciturn.
Now no one will come near,
but she has thorns
and worm-filled words,
and a spade for planting
the lesser verse…
but the loneliness
beneath roots and words
and stanza stems
until it digs ant tunnels
Lost in PoetryWhen did you lose me?Lost in Poetry4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Perhaps it was the year when the grass grew tallest
And the river was full to the brim with its dirty brown water
Running sludgy and fat through the culvert's silver lips
The year when I climbed trees and wrote poems
About love that I didn't understand and the way
I felt about how you felt about me.
But maybe it was the time when I saw the apple blossoms
For the first time and my cheeks glowed
When they fell to the ground; pink and red raindrops.
You lost me in the days when I discovered the sky
And the blues and purples and grays in the sunsets
Over our farm house that morphed into a planetarium at midnight.
The stars don't shine as bright anywhere else, but sometimes
I think I can see them dancing in Daddy's eyes
When he looks at me, not quite grinning.
You lost your little girl to a world where she was wanted;
The place she felt like she belonged to
Arms spread toward the misty air over the ocean
Foaming fingers grasping at the virgin shore.
sounds like a good plan."i know people like you. and just from looking at you i can tell your dreams are too big for you, kid." he says andsounds like a good plan.4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
i do not look in his eyes. they say you can read people by looking at their eyes and it is true. all those feelings that are held back have to seep out somewhere. eyes are like holes in a roof. things fall through them.
"my dreams are too big?" i ask, as i walk along the curb. i hold my arms out like airplane wings or bird wings. airplane wings, i decide. they are less fragile. harder to break. i am good at breaking things.
"yeah. just take it one day at a time, would you?" he stops walking and looks down. his hands are shoved in his jacket pockets. i step down from the curb and put my hands in my pockets.
"it's not like i'm trying to be a supermodel or a pop star. i just want to be happy."
"why cant you just stick with things like wanting to be a pop star or the president? at least you know those wont happen. i hate to see you get your hopes up." he starts walking again.
a love story you don't want.january: she wasnt ready to be serious with him so she left at exactly twelve oh one on new years day with a few words. he kept saying that this was going to be their year and she just said: piss off.a love story you don't want.4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
february: the words still stuck in his head even as he pretended to forgive her and took her back. he feared another painful goodbye.
march: she was never good with saying what she truely meant and he never looked deep into words so when she said "i don't love you." he took it as "i don't love you." and not as "i don't know how to love anyone." which was what she wanted to say.
april: the snow had melted away and they were hanging on by last strings. every day was a question of whether today would be the last.
may: she fell apart when her hamster died and he was there through the whole thing.
june: the death of her hamster silenced her but she visited with him more. she never wanted to be alone.
july: as they watched fire works together on fourth of july, he kept looking over at her wonde
erased.to the boy with scorched fingertips.erased.4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you never were one to follow the rules
and perhaps this is the reason all the walls you
built up around you and between us
have collapsed in on themselves
and the once comforting bricks
are now suffocating you
however you wanted to keep me out
and even now the walls are down
i will stay away
this is the part where i accept that
maybe our paths weren't meant to join
at the seams just meant to cross over for a while
because you must've forced yourself into my bones
and i must've tried just as hard to keep you there
just so i didn't have to face the truth
nothing connects us anymore
you are where you are and that it's no where near
where i need to be
i will force you out of my bones and revel
in the new found solitude within them
even though they will be weak
because this will stop me looking for you
i will burn your fingerprints
i will burn your prints off
and out of my skin
and i will be stronger for
the scorched redness
love, someone who is no longe
for lack of a simile --every saturday,for lack of a simile --5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i scribble away at words
that have prettyyellowcolours, but mean nothing.
because if i told you what was true about the both of us, it would be:
we had something special,
but now it's gone.
because i don't have any clever similes about
magic and love and how fire falls into ash.
there's just me, and the page, and the stories
i tell you about how we are fire, we are the ocean
and we are the shore.
how it goesthis is how it goes; you meet a boy and you think he's cute and you hope that maybe someday you will kiss the nape of his neck. the ache grows inside of you like a tumour, you feel it pulsing every single day and there is a piece inside of you that hopes he likes you back.how it goes3 years ago in Emotional More Like This
then you start to doubt it, you start to think you're ugly and your chubby and your clothes aren't pretty, but then you realize if you want him to like you, you have to like you as well. so you start to like yourself more, you're happier and you think he likes you back, which makes everything so much better.
one day he walks you to the bus and you wonder how time managed to put you here, and you see his lips moving but all you hear is the sound of your heart hammering. you agree to go on a date with him, and you try hard not to maul him when you hug him goodbye. you sit on the bus smiling and miss your stop, but it's alright, because it's a breathtaking day.
things are beautiful for a long time, trees look like they
the breakers will always call us homedon't mind my voicethe breakers will always call us home2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in the twilight.
i am without shoes,
beneath my wings.
i was the well that fed the lake--
i [saw] your fingers touching the water.
where did you sleep last night?
i don't know if you remember, but i doi don't know if you remember, but i do.i don't know if you remember, but i do2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i remember the way i felt when i went to go meet you for the first time - how i was the non chalant type of nervous but i went out with you any way, and you bought me ice cream and picked me a flower, and kissed me under the stars on the hood of my car infront of the most beautiful view of the city with the blanket that my grandmother knit me for graduation wrapped around our shoulders. i remember the way you shook hands with all of my friends and smiled and said hello. i remember the way you drove eighty miles over the speed limit all while holding my hand and asking me about my family. i remember how we saw that couple fooling around in their car and we laughed and pulled over and did the same. i remember the coy look i gave you when i pulled away from your lips to make fun at you for unhooking my bra. i remember the way i invited you to stay the night when my sister was out of town and we curled up in her queen size bed and started to watch a