How You've BeenHold me close 'cause I can't seeHow You've Been5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
What these people've done to me
The sister who I'll never be
And Satan in my company
Loving, laughing, lying loud
Come on, daughter, do me proud
Standing in this lonely crowd
I'll love you, always, he has vowed
What I've done
What you've seen
What I meant
What you mean
Hold me close 'cause I can't see
What these people've done to me
A girl with no nameI remember that day when she broke your heart. I remember that day when I comforted you. I remember that day when you kissed me. I remember that day you took her back.A girl with no name5 years ago in Profiles More Like This
My name is Skye, and this is my story
I hated 3rd period. Not because it was math, or that is was 10 in the morning and I would much rather be home asleep than listening to Mrs. Mach drone on and on about destributing. It was because that was the class Matthew was in. I didn't think it was possible to love and hate someone so much at the same time but I did.
This was also the period his whore girlfriend, Rachel was in. She hated me... I wasn't sure why. I had more reason to hate her than she had to hate me. Whatever, it was done and said and she hated me and I hated her.
I brushed back my dark brown hair, just to sneak a peek at Matthew. It was sad, after all he put me through my breath still got caught in my chest. His chestnut hair resting slightly over his green eyes.
I sighed and turned my head. I knew I wouldn't be
don't you dare lie,because i know you love thedon't you dare lie,4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
attention just as much as you love
breaking my heart.
viii. Audrey The moonlight was onviii. Audrey3 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
the water, & you made me want
to be a person.
and to tell you the truth,i always wanted to be a shooting star.and to tell you the truth,4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
On Being Loved By a Transgender PersonThe first time you kissed me with your lips naked andOn Being Loved By a Transgender Person2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
stripped clean like your slim shoulders of all their shields
- nervously layered shirts and vowel sounds -
I felt my body turn convex against yours.
We were like two petals lying complacent on the wet blacktop;
no matter how hard I threw myself against the gravel, I couldn’t make our bodies
graze without feeling myself shriveling a little on the outside.
My heart was bemused.
My skin was dismayed by the goose-bumps you conjured
at your touch: slender and trying to appear strong. There was never
any part of you that I would ever be able to describe correctly,
but I still felt you haunting me,
especially when the Portland sky
erupted down on us, weeping like a willow tree.
It always erupts here;
the rain always comes pouring down
and each time I turn the corner between my dorm room
and the stairwell to go down,
I imagine I see your red rain-boots dripping dry
in that same water-marked place where they used to be.
Red was your sa
all the lost onesi.all the lost ones4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
we met on a sunday.
and i'd love to say it was some total out of this world, love at first site, butterflies in my stomach moment, but it wasn't. it wasn't because maybe that sounds just a little too cliché, and well, we were never the type for happy endings. maybe it was that, and the fact that i had no clue what i was doing that day, never mind going.
so here i was, gripping onto my leather shoulder bag for dear life and dragging my frail body through ten feet of snow. i never knew where i was going to be honest, i just knew i had to get away.
i had to get away from this town, these people, here. i just had to get away.
he was a hipster. and when i say hipster, i don't mean a try too hard thrift store hipster. i mean he was just so naturally hip. you'd stare at his shoes more than his eyes. they were old, the ratty old your mother would yell at you for because you wouldn't throw them out and the worn out old that just made you feel so completely comfortable. i'd al
silly little sparrowi am burning, watching my skinsilly little sparrow4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
turn crimson and still reaching for
the shower handle, still turning it
until i can feel my skin melt because
atleast that way i'll know i'm still alive.
i am crying, letting water wash away my
tears as i hold myself. i'm holding on
because no one else can and no one else
will. you are two thousand miles away
or more and i'm starting to think that's
as deep as all the wounds.
i am screaming, gripping onto things
that can never seem to keep me up and
counting the drops of water that fall
from the ringlets on my hair to the
cold hard ground.
i am breathing, hardly holding on but
trying my damn hardest. i'm starting
to feel sick now and it's going to take
all i have to not double over and break down.
i am gasping, trying to block out all of your
words because i just can't seem to believe them.
raindrops and city lightsi.raindrops and city lights5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i gave up on being beautiful today,
i finally decided i'm never going to
be perfect enough for this world.
what's the point of making myself
beautiful on the outside with fake
smiles and lies laced with make-believe
perfection if i'm still going to be
broken on the inside?
i found out that if i stare out
into a world i'll never be good
enough for, the raindrops will
try their hardest to break through
the glass and save me.
i think they need me as much
as i need them.
i'll name my baby girl Raine,
after them. because maybe that
way i can repay them for all
the times they washed away my
tears by wiping away hers.
and when i tell her she'll
marry the moon, i can catch
her and keep her in my arms
when she misses and lands
among the stars.
maybe i'm a broken, fallen
star for a reason. maybe i'm
a star for her.
if i can't be beautiful,
i'll make something beautiful.
Heart WormsI am rigid and real,Heart Worms3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
thundering myself against the walls
to try to wait it out_
fumbling myself in circles
to try and catch up
before my vertebrae coalesce, and collide,
and cause my mouth to burst open
like a volcano and do what volcanoes do best: destroy.
But my knees are just too loud.
they're screaming for sunlight.
I'm banging my fists
against the piano
to feel my bones ricocheting,
writhing on the floor,
griping, gripping my clothes
to rip or to clutch, i. don't. know.
My tongue tells me it's a seizure,
but "it's just a heart worm,"
Just a hole boring itself slowly
through my abdominal muscles
and my nervous system
and rearranging my organs to its
kidneys up front, beat-boxing;
lungs in my head where they'll do
I can feel the foreign languages
melting in the frontal part of my brain
where there are no trees to grow_
swaying and smashing on the counter
like those crystal glasses in the cabin
The Invisible PeopleFor the "invisible people",The Invisible People4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
because it starts with one person caring...
It's my birthday next week,
but I don't want a cake.
All I want is a heaping pile of vitamins
fresh from the bottle,
their sickly sweet orange aftertaste
convincing my mind that I've already eaten.
I just want a nice steaming cup
of coffee (hold the cream and sugar)
to curb my appetite,
poured into that little half-cup
souvenir I bought in San Francisco.
All I want for my birthday
are the things that money cannot buy.
I want to be tall and slim and gorgeous.
I want ribs stretching against my snowflake skin
and razor-edged hipbones slicing through my palms
(a nervous habit of burning calories through friction).
I want double-jointed elbows with all the joints showing
and legs that the ocean could wade through
(eroding away that nasty fat).
I want triple-zero Levi's cinched two holes tighter,
and a pair of Dobby socks (mismatched the way he likes them)
to keep my toes warm in the frigid summer.
More than that,
Think About It.I'm being ruthless with my writing again;Think About It.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
slitting open lines like tissues and transplanting
them onto paper plates,
cradling nouns gingerly in my palm
as if they were someone's heart or kidneys
(hot and still [dimly] pumping).
I'm a writer, not a surgeon:
I may not be able to clear ventricles and
but I can preserve the people I love in the pages
of my notebook, press words like decaying flowers between
I may not be a surgeon, but I can save people.
They called me a pretentious bitch;
a nerd without even the common courteously to
wear glasses (so I can at least look intelligent.)
Apparently, formulating an atypical lexicon and
utilizing a dictionary makes you a freak.
They hate that I know the difference between breath and breathe
off the top of my head (one is a verb and the other is a noun, idiots.)
I'm sitting in a lawn chair watching the rain pour
beyond the edge of my shelter;
drawing a shivering hand through my hair
and breathing out a hot b
darling,please, tell me how you can lovedarling,4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
such a god damn fuck up like myself when
you're so utterly fucking perfect.
(because i just can't seem to understand)
Nameless ThingI've sat at this café so long that the waitress is starting to wonderNameless Thing3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
who this strange person is at table six who puts creamer in her
coffee and then forgets to stir it every time.
[She knows when it's time for a refill because that last sip
comes with a wince and a snarking-back of cold coffee-grinds.]
The cook's been out twice to catch a glimpse of this mysterious customer
who only orders condiments and utensils, and writes
synonyms for "synonym" in the window haze,
watching the I's cry.
I lean my chin in my hand and watch the world;
listen to the click of heels on linoleum,
the slamming shut of windows and descending-swish of blinds.
It's all just so mundane.
I wish to hear the music again; the metaphors and anecdotes:
babble translating to verse.
The man at the table next to me knits;
the muscles in his arms throbbing to the drone and jumble
of dishwashers and air-conditioners.
Music notes lay buried in his fingertips,
inked into his flesh, most likely, during a bout of
talk_The car isn't in the drive,talk_3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and the first thing that comes
to my lips is:
"they're probably still making out
on the sofa."
eye contact descends,
silent hopes and dreams
ping-pong off the windows,
quick and easy
in the closet_
metal rod and
say the words though
"Mom, Dad, I'll--I've--I'm--"
Verbs are the hardest:
and the gender is unforgivable.
147When I was younger, it was like his lungs simply spread wider. He had a stronger, firmer chest, a filter between his lips: backwards straw and cloud billow and patterns in the sky.1473 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Now it's as if he's grown taller, wider, but shrunk within -organs wound tighter, hollow piano-player ears- spun too many times through the dispenser and tumble-dried. Shaking fingers cannot pour the alcohol that lays him out flat, but somehow he manages and he's babbling. "You're a real piece of work, honey. You're a real piece of work, and you really should gain some weight."
I just nod, because that's what good daughters do. I smile and hug him one-handed, kiss his scruffy cheek even though one-sided affections make my thumbs bleed. I want to make it all go away, I really do. All the nights under the covers, uncertain footsteps on the stairs, irate voice, Mom on the phone, my shoes laces and how I couldn't tie them. All the cigarettes and the way you sucked them dry, bedtime stories intermingled with wisp
play me like a lieyour tongues turned black,play me like a lie4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a charcoal mess
she need no desire
your words are false
she's the chess piece
your game will require
your love is fake,
she's the broken puppet
stringed along with fire
her heart is shattered,
your bloody lover hangs
with a noose of barb wire
conversations with a mirror"you can never really be ugly, you know."conversations with a mirror4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
"why do you say that?"
"because no matter how many people call you ugly or no matter how ugly you see yourself, there is atleast one person somewhere walking on this earth that thinks you're the most beautiful thing they've ever seen."
"well in that case, you can never be beautiful either can you? i mean, if it works both ways there will always be someone in this world who thinks you're the most horrid thing they've ever seen."
poets in nowhereland"why is a raven like a writing desk?"poets in nowhereland4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
"why is a raven like a writing desk? that questions haunted me forever."
"a raven isn't like a writing desk, there is no answer."
"but there is."
"but of course, every riddle has an answer."
"then tell me, how is a raven like a writing desk?"
"simple. they aren't alike at all."
"but that makes no sense."
"ah, but it does. you see, a raven and a writing desk are two entirely different things. they are both different in every form possible, which also makes them alike in every form possible."
"i'm not following."
"the answers simple. a raven and a writing desk are alike because they are both different. they are both so entirely different from eachother that they are alike. they are both different and if they are both different, then that makes them have something in commen, now doesn't it? that is how they are alike."
"i think you've gone mad."
"maybe. but the best people are, aren't they? i mean, maybe
my heart is screamingand the only reason i'mmy heart is screaming4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
even forcing air into my lungs anymore
is so that you can take each breath
Remarksi. I like the way you call meRemarks3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and always hang up on the second ring
because you know I get the shakes and the shivers
and sometimes, but not always, my knees fall off
and I have to crouch down to find them.
ii. I keep thinking about you.
and your ten-thousand tans
and your lack-luster smile
gaping open with colloquialisms.
You and the way you say
"you're pretty and thin"
as if one more label will be the gunshot
and I'll finally escape that dream
in which I'm running, but my feet are melting
through the sidewalk and my arms are
casting impossible shadows.
iii. It reminds me of how inarticulate words are sometimes;
how they flit through me every second and yet
I tend not to write them down around you
because, every time, I wake up and
forget why I am.
How your words mean next-to-nothing to me
because you throw them around
like ping-pong balls, and
I prefer to sip them like sweet tea.
iv. You say things like "I love you" and
it reminds me of how I will never be anyone.
How I me
Clavicle, and it feels like your handsI sleepClavicle, and it feels like your hands3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
unbuttoned, wintry thighs
kissed by the chill
of May, sheets coiled in
tea-leaf shapes. Pictures
flutter on the walls, an expenditure
of light, open
windows breathing thumbs
across the bed frame,
my right-sided clavicle.
the womb, my hips begin and
ankles end, an obtuse
slant of knees
on your bedroom
I shift and
My socks are what touch
first, legs over the
edge, shadows in the
leech-light. There comes
- shower hiss and
silent sway - in
which the wh-wh-whiring
of the ceiling fan
is the closest I come
to the sun.