SurgeryIt's that momentSurgery4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
when you step out,
Take a deep breath,
step out onto the train tracks.
Lay down on the cold metal railings
and rough wooden planks.
Grip the scalpel
in shaking hands;
slice down your chest.
Blood wells up in the cut you make.
a trail of red, hot, pain.
Resistance, then release,
as you break through each white rib
with the steely, metal, edge.
Slip your hand inside the cage of bone;
feel your warm, beating, heart.
Reach with the scalpel,
close your eyes;
and drag the blade slowly
through each pulsing artery.
Feel the blood
spill out through your veins.
Take out your heart
with such strategic care;
lay it on the wooden planks,
see you blood spill, turn steel railings red.
Then sit and watch the tracks,
waiting for him
and pick you heart up.
To put it back in your chest,
stitch you closed and whole.
But tracks start to hum
and vibrate so faintly.
The train appears around the bend.
You watch with dying eyes.
Metal wheels scream down tracks;
Now You KnowI'll be your distractionNow You Know3 years ago in Emotional More Like This
if you'll be my reaction.
Because one night of empty thinking
is worth more then 10 nights of sleepless turning.
Hands in my hair,
lips on my skin,
My efforts to keep you out
ended up inviting you in.
So distract me tonight
We'll think tomorrow.
Touch me till it's light
Enter my marrow.
RenesmeeXJacobThe air chills at my skin as greenery of the northern peninsula rushes past us. His breath huffs in white clouds as he runs beneath my legs. I grip tighter to his muscled shoulders and rub my face into the coarse fur there.RenesmeeXJacob4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
We are coming home after a trip to see Canada.We ae going home to grandma and grandpa's.
It has always felt strange calling them that. They look just like me. Just like my mom and dad. We are all the same. Almost.
Jake and I are different, but we are a part of the family. I am fully grown now, and Jake has stopped aging as well. It's perfect from here on out. For eternity.
I sigh and hug my wolf. He grunts happily, tossing his great head. Then I feel the familiar scratch in my throat and I place my hands on his head to let his see my thoughts.
We slow down and stop. I slide off his back and immediately sink into the hunters crouch. Jacob does the same, but he chooses to lope off to the right. He knows by now not to hunt the same kill. I smile:
Dialogue: Tangled"You've changed."Dialogue: Tangled3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"I hope that's not an accusation."
"Of course not. It's an observation."
"But you have."
"Wanna tell me how?"
"You're a mess...oh, come on. Don't look at me like that."
"I washed my hair today, you know."
"Excuse your dry sense of humour, but I wasn't referring to your strawberry-scented hair."
"Fine, then. I'm a mess. Enlighten me, but try not to insult me, will you?"
"Don't worry, it happens to a lot of people, really."
"You don't know who you are. You're not a jock, even though you love soccer. You're definitely not a writer, even though I know what lies inside that pink folder underneath your bed. You're not intellectual, despite the absence of anything below an A on your report card. You don't know who you are, so you've slopped together everything you could be into a messy form, like a stained glass window with no real picture, and you project that image of yourself - a little of everything, a part of you suite
Slow DancingSoft stepsSlow Dancing4 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
1... 2... 3...
close our eyes
1.... 2... 3...
1... 2... 3...
Nothing else exists.
1... 2... 3...
Making slow shapes with your feet.
1... 2... 3...
Can you feel it?
Can you see the other half?
A hand on your waist.
and one to grasp your own.
Smile to your self.
1... 2... 3...
Keep stepping softly...
1... 2... 3...
Keep making shapes with your feet.
Sway to the music
Count the beats.
Slow dance with yourself.
The Crimson DoveThe window is cracked.The Crimson Dove4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
A small little sliver.
But it spreads and widens.
Cold air makes her shiver.
She puts her hand
against the cold, breaking, pane.
Sharp edges cut her palm
and blood acts as a stain.
Dripping down the glass
it pools on the sill.
In her other hand,
a bottle of pills.
as she tips them out.
The silence that follows
promises a shout.
The scream of a dying girl.
The cry of the dove.
are now covered in blood.
After the screams comes the silence.
No more crimson dove.
Just feathers and dead hearts,
All covered in "love".
CementedFace-down. Sinking. Wet Concrete.Cemented3 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
Tightness around my skin.
I can't breathe.
Chains cut the wrist,
Wet grey blinds the eyes.
It closes over the frame.
Only a pretty picture of art,
You may stare at.
The Girl frozen in time.
Can't touch, can't feel.
Rain cannot touch me,
And kiss me gently, coldly.
Sun cannot stab me.
You cannot hold me.
Nails scrape the suffocating coffin.
Heart echos painfully.
What is that?
A gasp, a shattering thunder.
A hammer clangs on the floor.
Gasping, panting, you run.
Hold me, bring me to your light.
I, your love, you my life.
I, your rose, broken free.
You are rain on my lips.
Help Them...Imagine that fear-Help Them...4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Long necks strained to flee,
ears pricked at
the sound of others screams.
Blood runs down their faces,
regal bodies shining,
ever noble 'till their last step,
They probably wonder
what they did wrong...
BrokenGlass beneath my feet,Broken4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
falling in shards
as my life deteriorates
before my eyes.
I feel like I'm slipping,
the world tilting
as I scrabble to
keep on this
melody of life.
I am falling, reaching up
as if I can save myself
but I am going
peek at my past,
and I fall on broken
Paint the RosesAnother night stalking sleep with poison arrows. She cries and cries. All the mirrors that were once her friends are broken. Shards of glass litter the floor of this empty house. Bloody footprints lead to the bedroom where she sits on her bed with a knife and bloody wrists. "Perfect. You have to be perfect." These voices whisper lies to her. She shudders and her wrists flirt with the sharp edge again.Paint the Roses4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
'Roses. Mom used to love Roses. Red ones. Red like blood...' She lives in her memories. Parents. Friends. Teachers. "No one will know." They told her. "No one will care." Eventually if you hear a lie enough times you start to believe it.
'Roses... Blood red...' The roses she had planted for her mom. They had bloomed white... 'I'll paint them...' She had thought. 'I'll paint them red...' A kitchen knife had gone missing the next day.
And the white roses were painted red...
"No one will know..."
Rise.Bring me back to the start,Rise.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Back when "I love you" was all that we could say,
I think about the decisions I've made everyday,
They haunt me and I just can't get away,
What we have is a status, there is no substance,
I've kept myself from better days because of you,
Left my heart broken... black and blue,
This will be all over soon,
Covering up the hurt of an open wound,
Being with you is like constantly stabbing myself in the chest,
I can't go on with this much blood on my hands,
If you understood how much I wish I could move on then you might understand,
I'm a broken man hoping for something new in this life,
Something to distract me from the pain and strife,
Maybe someone good enough to one day become wife,
My cheeks are stained with the tears I've cried,
Sometimes I'm confused at why I don't just die,
Oh yeah because I don't quit,
I always keep going not giving a shit,
I may be broken and I may cry,
But I can promise that I will never die.