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Dirty LaundryLoading up the washing machine, and my mind is sprawling around in several destinations far from this cramped room. I spritz my clothes- no, actually I drench them with that spray- the kind that's supposed to work miracles on any stain before the affect fabric even goes in the washer. This was my favorite shirt. My favorite shirt. I'm just not thinking today, am I?Dirty Laundry2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The cotton feels good on my fingers, even though I'm stuffing it roughly into the machine. And all the towels...I didn't learn it until I'd moved out, but Mom was right: washing towels and clothes in the same load led to an outright ungodly amount of lint stuck in everything. I pa
Breathe.One. Two. Three. Four. Five.Breathe.2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Inhale. Hold your breath. Exhale.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
Inhale. Hold your breath. Exhale. Eyes focused on his chest.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Hands crossed as if you were praying.
Inhale. Hold your breath. Pinch his nose. Lock lips. Exhale.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. "Don't give up on me now!" Dizzy feeling.
Inhale. A tear falls. Hold your breath. Muffled cry. Exhale.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Shoulders in agony."Please! Breathe!"
Little Green MonsterThere was a little girlLittle Green Monster2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
With a very little heart
And a fragile little body
Always falling apart
In the very little heart
Deep inside this little child
There was a creature growing
A villain oft reviled
This creature features heavily
In many a sorrowful verse
It ruins the very best of men
Imagine what it does for the worse
And it grew inside this little girl
Creeping slowly through
And once she realized what it'd done
There was nothing she could do
Her little heart no longer pumped
With blood of a rosy red
Green film coagulated in her veins
And poisoned her young, pretty head
And the little green monster
Finally took black
ApologiesHow many times do I have to say I'm sorry?Apologies2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
How many times will it dribble from my mouth,
Slide down my lips and collect on the floor
Before you believe me?
Before I believe me?
"Don't apologize" is easier said when
You can't see the mistakes underneath
After a while, you give up saying it
Because it's not your mantra
It's mine
****5 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Old Man
Winter's cloak
is a poor champion
for this summer-born body,
quivering.
Yet ,I know his chill kiss
sires the green of spring.
January is the cruelest month.
I have been a fool.
He loves me not.
I love him still.
I abide.
© L. L. Kelly 2012
She Cries ContentI am countingShe Cries Content1 week ago in Free Verse More Like This
wishing wells, practicing
my thesis for every shooting star
in my mirror.
I have to admit, I
don't know what I want,
so I paper-punch holes in your
sky to replace the supernovas I
stole. I needed them
for luck.
We are unsure,
unsightly,
perforated lovers at perpendicular
angles. All our reasons are
blurry and
Schrodinger would
agree that we probably
shouldn't observe them.
Speaking logic,
I find it funny
that Euler's formula was considered
a jewel when it fails
to count our
cruel edges and
double-faces. I can't use
numbers to solve our mystery,
a still painting of
frustration and
blindness. You see me
as on a distinct, sep
She Was a Stormcloudshe was a stormcloud, and you loved her,She Was a Stormcloud1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
and the two of you took walks and wore
nothing but promises,
broken chains and
strands of pinkish pearls.
and the two of you kissed under trees that attracted silver lightning
(metal branches scraped the sky, and you, always faithful,
tipped your coat over her head to keep her dry.)
but she never stayed that way.
in an instant, she had whirled into the rain
and danced without clothes,
without cares,
without you.
and she left you
with the pain of frostbite on your naked skin
where you trusted her to kiss you warm,
and you thought you heard her laughter
when the sun came out again the
The Dark RomanticThe Dark RomanticThe Dark Romantic2 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
Bleeding hearts,
Torn Valentine's cards,
Scattered on the dresser.
No blind devotion,
No weak emotion,
Because this way is just better.
Pen and ink,
Left by the sink,
Writing poems in the dark.
No fanciful demands,
No lover to link arms;
Just a cold and empty heart.
But behind the smirk,
And sarcastic laugh,
Lives a man,
With a broken heart.
Nobody seems to look twice,
So this lonliness must suffice,
Until one day he finds love.
Mahogany tables,
He wasn't able,
To clear away her things.
He sleeps in the sunlight,
Wakes up at night,
And takes what the darkness brings.
But behind the smirk,
And sarca
with a whisperthis is how we rule the world,with a whisper4 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
the underclassed
the uncapitalist
(uncapitalised)
the forgotten, lobotom-ised,
relics
of a long lost dystopast.
not with a SHOUT,
we do not argue.
we do not even unsheath
our mightier-than-the's.
we whisper in your children's ears
the memories of what should have been.
the life we all crave.
the death we all crave.
WE do not discriminate
or obstigate
our opinions onto others
pressing the side of the blade
down onto the fles
Love, the DiseaseWhat doctor or healer would understandLove, the Disease3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
If I came to them and offered my hand
And told them your touch was deadly to me
And begged of them, "Tell me what you see"?
They wouldn't see the cancer growing within
They wouldn't see your nails slipping under my skin
They wouldn't see the invasion of every cell
And they would never see where the real troubles dwell
'Cause it's true when they say that love's a disease
But it's never been one to be cured with ease
My desires might not be exactly obscene
But truth be told, I still need a vaccine
If a doctor could bring calm to my sleepless heart
If what I have now could be explained on a cha
100ThemesChallenge - Two RoadsYou are well within your rights, at any moment, to stand up and say, "No, this is not who I am. I'm afraid you've mistaken me for someone I'm not."100ThemesChallenge - Two Roads2 years ago in Emotional More Like This
You can make the world more beautiful by simply refusing to lie about it.
I M i s s Y o uI m i s s seeing you in my dreams.I M i s s Y o u2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
{Although it's nothing like seeing you here}
[It's better then nothing]
You used to visit me,
Sit there and talk with me,
And remind me that even though you where gone,
You still loved me.
I miss you,
So much.
I don't even think you know.
I wonder why you left me,
Right when I started to need you the most.
{I know it wasn't really your choice, but,
it would have been nice if you just held on for a little longer,
for me, your youngest daughter}
I miss seeing you in my dreams.
You w
AdviceThank you for telling me that it isn't okay to show emotionAdvice2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
That I have to keep everything bottled up inside
And wait till I explode
Splattering everyone with bits of anger, grief, and loneliness.
Thank you for telling me that my sobs and cries are pathetic
That tears are a sign of weakness
And they're just a waste of vital water, but wait you don't want me to live anyway ha ha
My feelings don't matter, I'm just a shell.
Thank you for telling me that I am a waste of life
That the world would be much better if I didn't exist
And no one would miss me if I someday left this world forever
Leaving nothing behind to show I had ever stepp
99 FriendshipMy name is Alois Spiessen. My mother is a former queen of Norway and my father is the personal assistant and painter to a prince of Germany. I won't get into how they met. Truthfully, I don't know all the details, and I'm not sure that I really want to know all the details. One thing I do know is, I was conceived out of wedlock because of the affair between my mother and father. My mother, then Queen Jedayli, was married to another man. Didn't stop my parents though. Some may call that romantic. I'd call it completely insane. Going against a king like that? They're lucky they weren't killed.99 Friendship2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
John, the former king of Norway, is my mother's b
73 - I Can'tI can't73 - I Can't2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I can't fly
I can't read minds
I can't be popular
I can't teleport
I can't save the world
I can't
I can't believe in something just because someone else does
I can't tell people who they can, and can't, love
I can't support corruption in government form
I can't condone atrocities committed against humans and animals alike
I can't pretend to be someone I'm not in order to make others happy
I can't
I can't be what you want me to be
I can't pretend to be happy on days I'm just not
I can't follow others just because that's what expected of me
I just can't
So don't ask me
More importantly....I won't
100themes27:Foreign"For the last time, I am not Indian!"100themes27:Foreign3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Felix frowned, looking between the irate surgeon and the photograph in the film magazine. "You look Indian," he pointed out, jabbing one nail-less finger at the face of the actor in the aforementioned photo (and smearing ketchup all over it in the process).
Malben rolled his eyes, running his hand through his incongruously red hair. "And you look like an-" He paused, trying to remember the exact word for what Kay had told him. Animated-something-or-other, wasn't it? Animate..Ani..Anime, that was it. "-an anime character, but that doesn't mean I keep bloody insisting you are one."
"Indians aren't fictio
All Things ConsideredAll Things ConsideredAll Things Considered2 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Pairing: n/a
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Genre: General
Summary: It's not until people start asking questions that Tsuna realizes just how good he has it.
--
Kyouya Hibari
At age twenty-five, Kyouya Hibari hasn't really changed much. He is still as caustic, misanthropic, and inclined toward homicide as he was ten years ago. The only problem is that now he's taken his personal vendetta against herbivores global and the consequences of property damage only seem to matter to him when he's in Namimori.
When he's not off doing whatever secretive things he does (to this day, even Tsunayoshi doesn't know what, exactly, h
100ThemesChallenge - SilenceI need you to do this for me. Just one thing, but it's important. Take out a notebook and note this down; I did live. Because in a thousand years time, they may not be able to imagine what it was like, but I was here, and you were here and we did not need each other because need is ugly and we were beautiful. So I need you to let them know; I did live. More importantly, I loved.100ThemesChallenge - Silence2 years ago in Emotional More Like This
03. ContentWhy can't we push away hate and lies, take a breath and dry our eyes, gently step backwards and look around, and see the memories, lost then found?03. Content2 years ago in Letters More Like This
They say to smile, because happy looks good on you.
Too bad "pretty" has become sononymous with "plastic."
100themes30:Under The Rain"What're you doing out here?"100themes30:Under The Rain3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"Relaxing."
"It's late."
"I know."
"You should come back inside."
"I know."
"You're soaked."
"I had noticed."
A pause.
"How long's it been?"
"Too long."
"I meant since the last rains."
"...So did I."
"Liar."
"Go back inside. No sense in both of us catching cold."
"That's a medical myth, and you know it."
He looks across, breath catching in his throat at the lantern-lit glimmer of rainwater on her skin as he is reminded once again of why he's been trying not to look at her all evening.
"Go back inside."
"Are you giving me orders now, Mal?" She laughs, fingers playing absently over the hilt of her
100themes28:SorrowThe Duke is not sure this is an emotion he can remember feeling before. Anger, yes, that one is not new - indeed, it has been his constant companion for more years than he cares to remember. Hatred? Not a new concept by any means: his feelings towards his sister-cousin warranted no other name (though they may have lessened to contempt at this precise moment). Happiness? A certain fierce joy in the heat of battle, perhaps, or the glow of pride in his chest at the prowess of his new-forged army - those seem like they might be (might have been) happiness. Contentment? Maybe. Perhaps that is what he is feeling now, as he sits in the rooms which h100themes28:Sorrow3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
metaphor is my middle name.What is poetry?metaphor is my middle name.2 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Poetry is the poet's blood and sweat spilt on parchment. Poetry is raw emotion weaved into words, tangled into stanzas. Poetry is beauty at its best, strung across paper for all to see and for only a few to value.
To me, poetry is a task that I've never been particularly good at. Poetry always seemed like a foreign language with its intricate meanings and delicately formed words. It amazed me how a poet could put the Meaning of Life into a few uneven lines. I envied them, the poets with mental thesauruses and quick fingers. I suppose I couldn't grasp the vagueness that is required for all those who wish to pass as amateur po
Sta.sh
