WitchThe black cat purred, arching into her caress behind the ear, its little nose twitching adorably. She smiled, contentedly waving her wand and letting the dishes do themselves.
Outside her humble abode, the rain was falling, a steady pit-pat. She could hear a hum of voices.
The villagers were here to call her a monster. A witch. They spat the word as if it was dirty.
At least there wouldn't be any torches today.
"Why don't you just turn them into mice?" The cat asked, with a sly grin.
"I prefer to think I'm not as unreasonable as them."
My StoriesBlood as ink; nightmares as inspiration.My Stories4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Honeyed Magic, Defective CuresI have always wanted to write like you.Honeyed Magic, Defective Cures4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Every expression that flows from the tip of your pen,
Inspiring, evocative and pure, like things in this world rarely are;
You, whose every whim resembles a dulcet elixir,
Before it even meets paper,
I will never be able to write like you.
Every phrase drawn with blood from the hole in my heart,
Agonizing, raw emotion blending with sincerity, nothing but the ugly truth;
I, whose inspiration comes from inherent despair,
Will only ever invent,
I look and see jutting out of your shoulder blades,
Snowy, immaculate wings of an angel.
I can feel my own two wings recoil in disgrace,
They are torn, monstrous, with bone showing through singed feathers and flesh.
I will never be able to capture the same eloquence as you,
See the beauty of life and imbue this vision in others.
All I do is brood and try to grab hold of fleeting imaginings,
Morbid memories and nightmares that won't stop haunting me.
I am not jealous, just curio
Sleepless NightsI dream awake while others sleep.Sleepless Nights4 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
He is the kind of boy...With calloused fingersHe is the kind of boy...3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
this boy trails poetry
down the length of spines.
smell like lemon drops,
and taste of sweet poison.]
He carries a tattered
notebook in one hand,
and an ink pen
in the pocket
closest to his heart.
[The paper romantic
who warms lonely
His dreams are bigger
Too much for just one.
SlashingWarriors slash men.Slashing4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
So do fangirls.
Important BookThe torn page destroyed the ending.Important Book4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
semiunrequitedI wish you'd text me sober.semiunrequited4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Six Word Story: Beautiful"Smile," He said. You look beautiful.Six Word Story: Beautiful4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
This TearThis tear reminds everyone you existed.This Tear4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
shattered hope"I love you."shattered hope4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Inspiration: The FacadesThese masks are all I am...Inspiration: The Facades4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
between the linesCan you read a wordless language?between the lines4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
MemoriesWithout you the world continues to function,Memories4 years ago in Scraps More Like This
Which, for some inexplicable reason, I feel is a sin.
Minutes and hours seem to slip through the gaps between my fingers,
So fast that I can do nothing,
My bottom lip has countless indents,
Because I keep biting down to stop the flow of tears,
(God, I'm pathetic.)
As I go through denial, anger, depression, bargaining...
And get stuck on that last stage;
I do outrageous things, unforgivable things,
As if daring you (begging you) to come back,
If only to kick my ass.
If only those two words didn't exist.
I sincerely wish I could erase them from the English language,
Maybe that would lessen my anguish.
Maybe language itself should cease to be.
Then I could stop the shards of glass embedded in my soul,
From flowing out with every letter that leaves me.
I want to keep those shards.
They prove you existed. Exist. Will go on existing.
One year passes, then two, then three.
Blessed relief from the pain
Tear: Six WordsWatch me tear up your sadness.Tear: Six Words4 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
To be remembered alwaysWe wrote our names in stars.To be remembered always4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Love At First GlanceStars in her eyes. Boobs, his.Love At First Glance4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Time to DieDon't worry, the pain is temporary...Time to Die4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
FantasyTwo AM.Fantasy4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
And my fingers are itching to move.
To dance along a blank sheet of paper
And create a world out of nothing.
To etch out the girl I see
With such perfect detail in my mind.
See her? Watch her standing there,
Eyes empty but for the far off dream,
Escape staring into the cold glass barrier of the window pane.
And how my mind aches so
To see a masterpiece in its entirety.
Every single feather and tear drop,
Every blowing leaf and burning fire,
A million snapshots of beauty
Sitting on a dusty rolodex in the back of my brain.
But my fingers fumble along
And the shapes just don't come out right.
And the coffee stain in the corner
Never looks as elegant as I naïvely supposed it to be.
I see so clearly through the translucent glass.
I long to reach out and touch
The life and vivacity brimming on the other side.
Worlds of pain and laughter and joy,
Universes of weddings and funerals and brilliant sunsets
That will never see the light of day.
Because I am not an artist.
And the best