The Mirror GirlI am crouched over myself, trying hard not to fall over. The nerves in my feet send telegrams to my brain, screaming at it to stop me from moving. I hate this, I hate this, I hate this! My mind is on repeat, the recording forever replaying, over and over. The other girls can just move and she smiles and claps, her fingers the only things that move faster than this endless tempo of music that sets my nerves on edge. I glance at the clock. An eternity until I'm free.
"Moorea!" she shrieks in that voice that is too sweet to be human. To pink to be real. "There you are. Will you try the steps, now?"
I shake my head, praying that it will come off so I won't have to step out there in front of all the other girls and stare at myself in the mirror that seems to portray different people than the people I know. The girl in the mirror who grimaces stares me in the eye. She feels the same thing I do and I can take comfort in that. At least she understands. She turns as I do, the same awkward, clun
The climbHe tied his boat among the rocks, and soon began to climb. Slowly, every so slowly, he went foot by foot, climbing away from shore and onto what should be called land, but really was nothing more than rocks.The climb2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
When he tried to look above there was no grass of green. More and more rocks awaited our man, and still he climbed. The sun beat down, and clouds covered the top so our poor man could not see his destination, but still he climbed.
'It appears as though God has taken a day off today,' he thought to himself. And still he climbed up and up, even though the rocks were always coming.
When the stones cut into his palms, and the toes of his shoes wore down till his toes peeked out, and when the sun burned what skin it could, and when the wind cut through his clothes and chilled his bones, he still kept moving forwards. He couldn't see the sea below him, and there was nothing in front of him but clouds.
And still our poor man climbed, and climbed, and climbed.
To reach the top and say that
Paper ButterfliesA cut, a tear, a fold,Paper Butterflies2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
slice of color and a cut or two,
and another paper butterfly is born.
IV drips in the hand
keeping everything in place
while the cuts and tears and folds
keeps going on.
One thousand, six hundred and sixty six.
That's the number
she was told to make.
One thousand, six hundred and sixty six.
Until she can get a wish.
A nice nurse had told her so,
and shown her how to make them
but she had only made thirty out of the
one thousand, six hundred and sixty six
It seemed like such an impossible number
that one thousand six hundred and sixty six
but our patient needed that wish
just like everyone else,
in that hospital that our patient was at.
Her wish though
was not what someone expects
from our patient who will not last much longer.
is for her family to be happy when she's gone
and that they won't miss her to much
and that they will find someone else
after she has gone.
isn't to stay
and to get better
because she knows
that it won'
Victim of a John DoeDo you want to hear the storyVictim of a John Doe2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
of how I died?
I promise it won't be boring
so if you would
just take a seat, have a drink
Past memories reach,
I met the most amazing man
who spun words of silver and gold
with a tongue more fine than silk.
He told me he could do no wrong
and I, young and foolish, believed him.
And when we went home,
his eyes shining with new excitement,
things were perfect.
Then it shattered.
Nothing more intense
than feeling my own blood
trickle down my body.
stares traveling down
blood spattered knife
a gaping wound
cries of shock
gleaming white smile
solid drops of blood
and fading light.
I knew him for one night
he disappeared the next.
To this day I am simply known
as the victim of a John Doe.
This is a poemThis is a poem.This is a poem2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
It's full of lines,
and goes with a meter,
rhyming of words of course
and contains more than you think.
So much thought
is going into this poem
to many words
and so many emotions
that it's almost hard
for the poet
to capture it in a few words.
This poem has a deep meaning
that you will feel is just out of your grip
and it shall be misheard and misread in its time.
For now though,
this is just a poem
that is full of rhythm
and words too big to pronounce.
This is a poem,
full of words
This poem is just words on a paper
that are meant to make you think.
Can you feel the love,
or the hate, or even the fear,
in this poem?
This is a poem,
with a simple repeating line
that is just meant
to make you think.
When Heven Does Not Hurt 1Erik was waiting to die. Christine had promised she would return after he died.When Heven Does Not Hurt 14 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
"She will be here soon," Erik whispered his mantra over and over, rolling the words on his dry, corpse tongue. "She will be here soon."
It had been a week since he had met with the Daroga at his little flat. Three days had passed since he had crawled silently into his coffin to await hell. Erik is already in hell, he thought wildly. It is hell without Erik's Christine.
The silence in the house by the lake was think with Death, empty of the music that once ruled the darkness. Nothing existed in the cellars but Erik's home and the miles and miles of corpses left behind from the Commune. And the rats, Erik reminded himself. How ironic, a corpse entombed in other corpses.
He could not muster enough strength to laugh, so he opted to concentrate on every swell of his chest, hoping that it would be his last.
A sound colored the darkness for a moment, startling Erik.
Perhaps a rat has found its way into Erik's home
Through a gap in the fenceThrough a gap in the fenceThrough a gap in the fence2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
they saw each other.
Drawings on the walls
for messages of love.
Images don't matter anymore
as words are the only thing
that can travel
through that gap in the fence.
Whispers of love
and no one else cares.
Still they have not seen each other
through the small gap in the fence,
But of course
all good things must end.
The gap was closed
and their love was lost.
As time erases
their love was lost
and the lovers who met
through a gap in the fence
never got to whisper
their sweet nothings to each other
through a gap in the fence again.