biopsyput me under, cover my face, stuff my lungs with your chemical lies.
if they were to take me apart,
slice open my chest,
peel back the skin keeping me whole,
they would find:
a. one heart, slowly ticking.
(they would not find anything,
but they would have to say they did.
after all, girls can't live without a heart.
they forget that i'm not the first:
a score of girls walking even though
they should have faded long ago.)
b. each rib curved so perfectly,
a shield around my lungs.
(a cage, keeping my breath from bursting
out of my skin. know that this is just me,
held together by nature,
unable to lose control of myself.)
c. two sacs of cells, nestled beside each other.
(no first-hand smoke here, no sir.
only second-hand dust, only
things i could not get rid of,
only bits of places i've been,
caught in my body.
postcards of memories i can't see.)
d. a skeleton, still and alive.
(sleeping, with blood cells being produced
in the hollows of my curves.
the rattling of my bones cannot
cadavershe was born with arctic lipscadaver3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and overcast skin.
her hair fell like fresh snow
and she was far too thin.
her bones in locked closets,
joints creaked and shrieked
like a rotten floorboard
under gossamer feet.
the little things.The night caves in.the little things.3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
there are no more pretty words on my lips.
the stars fall like planes in a tailspin.
and there is no more beauty in my pen,
only the self-loathing that shadows my mind and the blade on my skin.
and he's seafoam in the drain,
as out of place here as the seashells inhabiting the dresser in my room.
its not poetry anymore,
and the pain in my chest is so real i can taste it like cold steel.
his toes at the edge of the precipice as he burns the night down. your lungs are filled with flour and your eyes with ashes.
its the little things that break you.
so i'll swallow the emptiness inside like a bitter medicine. bite my cheeks until they bleed out my insecurities. i'm rotting from the inside out, but i can't let them know it.
too afraid if i set the rot free it will destroy me completely.
but maybe its already destroyed me.
the acid in my veins has laid me bare and defenseless. the bile and unborn words in my che
So I amI feel deadSo I am3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and the tree outside my window,
says I am,
so I must be.
I like lillies to bloom in winter
and for the sun to live in the clouds,
so as not to burn my skin
or leave me in the cold.
This morning I forgot to breathe,
as I woke up, I choked.
It was not unpleasent,
I was just surprised.
You could not feel the moisture
on my face
as it began to rain because,
I feel dry
and the weatherman said it was,
so it must have been,
so I am.
MusingI'm too young to spend my lifeMusing3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
running from the thunder,
staring at the kitchen walls wondering
how life would be different
if they weren't the same color.
a chinese paintingi can't stop comparinga chinese painting3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
your thin arms to the tree branches haunting me outside my bedroom
the aloof night sky
painting itself into a summer's confession against
my frostbitten windowglass
the same one i gazed out into endless dandelion fields
what are we ?
wasting days without end, in our sleep
the scent of a burnt rose rising from a mountain peak
with your tree branch arms over my spring blossom tattoo.
a yellow bird peered in,
but only saw ivory waterfalls
of factorymade bedsheets,
i'm becoming the yellowbird,
exploring my tree home. your hair is my nest, afterall
home is where the heart is
missingyou wrap me up in ocean water-born smoke of the midnight aegean seas, the misty wisps suspiring into my ears as your sweet serenade fingers trail sonata whispers down and around my ribcage. these shoulders of hundred-mile journeys should suffice for the safety of the norway fjords. your fingers trace the trembling arteries down my arm and linger at the mass of veins at my wrist, sweeping sadly over the harsh remnants of selfish black nights.missing3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
some days, i wish you were heartless too.
life is supposed to be good; i wish i could make yours better. december nights are for people together. you are warm but sometimes it's just hard. i push you away, walk to cool corners, and allow myself to hug me instead.
none of it is fair; i know you'd jump canyons just to steady me but i just can't get better for you.
your silk jasper fingers free tangles in my hair and i talk into the air, "why do you bother? it'll only tangle again." the world seems a never-ending circle of showers and powdered
little white liestissue paper skin and barbed wire spineslittle white lies3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
"i haven't been sleeping well."
butterfly wing smiles and porcelain bones
"the medicine will help."
sparrow hearts and rose petal hair
undersea eyes and sailboat stomachs
"these things pass in time."
Of Love Letters and Cracked PorcelainShe writes to him. Every day she writes to him thousands of letters, scrawled on lined paper, lunch bags, the backs of her homework assignments. Whole books, she writes, entire epics, tragic love stories.Of Love Letters and Cracked Porcelain3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Her fingers are perpetually stained with ink.
She doesn't begin every letter with "dear", though that's what he is to her. She knows he knows. Knows she loves him. Knows he is wanted, needed, cherished. Her one and only, forever and always. She tells him about her days, sends pictures of her sister, her mother, herself. She loves each letter to pieces, so it's wrinkled and stained and torn a little by the time it's finished.
They were childhood friends before they were lovers. He was a year or so older, an inch or two taller, an older-brother type for the first thirteen years of her life, before he grew into his body and she into hers. Relics of their combined childhoods clutter her bedroom, piling up on the bookshelf, the desk. On her walls hang the crayon drawings, fifteen ye
satellite boyyou always told me,satellite boy3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to never be like you.
to not be faithless, blameless,
you told me,
you had a satellite boy,
who guided your way home.
you told me,
he fell from the heavens.
you always told me,
you were just trying to find
someone whose heart wasn't beating,
because that way, they would never
once, you made me promise,
to never swear on my own grave,
for a friend going insane.
Missing BonesWe spent our nights star gazingMissing Bones3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
on the top of that local bar on 5th street.
You said you loved me by night,
that no star or moon in any given universe
could compare to me; that we were lost warriors
searching for a home within the roots of one another.
I believed myself a wandering ghost among the living,
searching for missing bones and the warmth of another's grave.
You shook me then,
kissing me where it hurt most-
just to test a theory.
"Like dead birds,
you are not faceless;
your rib cage has a meaning."
And I believed I loved you then
underneath the moon and stars
tipsy on your smile and your words
and your warmth.
Your hands must be the thieves
who stole these thin bones of mine-
because, I never wanted you more.
the ocean doesn't comfort me like it shouldthe water looked like angrythe ocean doesn't comfort me like it should3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
hands, clawing at the sand
and the wind screamed
like an angry voice i couldn't hear
and the seagulls didn't dare
and my lungs, i think,
froze a little bit
because the stormy sea and
the screaming wind and your voice
the desperate waves
and your fingers
i went to the ocean the day you left
and all i could see was you.
unzippedi.unzipped3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
it was all skinned knees
and stop signs between us.
we pushed too hard
or not hard enough.
the last star i wished upon
turned out to be a satellite,
and the last time i kissed you
really wasn't the last time.
the scent of romance- pine needles
and sawdust clung to my shoulders
where your fingers left goose flesh
when i least expected it.
i'd be tangled up in you and bed sheets
if i didn't know you better than that,
[sweetheart,] you're thunderstorms on
Saturday nights and "Why don't you stay
for awhile"'s and the infidelities
that line my cheeks.
Biology (In Defense Of Free Verse)The heart has four chambers:Biology (In Defense Of Free Verse)3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
two muscular atria and
two ventricles that alternate
between relaxing and
throughout the body.
This is one of many processes
that occur whether you
want it to or not.
I can sense your flesh and
when I breathe you in like pollen
or particles of smoke.
You are a part of my lungs
before tiny capillaries carry you
sleeping or intoxicated
to my heart.
Then it seizes up-
pumping little bits of you
through my veins like nerve endings
and I feel you
from my waist to my lips and
inside my brain.
The primary cause of love
is the chemical phenethylamine
that is released by eating
chocolate; or more importantly,
by feeling you against me
and nobody else.
Proteins are given purpose
through tender shaping
into a perfected form.
This can be observed
on a larger scale
It is said
during academic dissections,
that structure and form
But try and tell me
that this freedom before you
my body is a funeral servicethis morning i emptied your ashes into the sky, hoping to watch them sift through my fingers like an eagle taking flight. but the wind carried them backwards and my face became an ashtray for memories. you came back to me, like you always do, like a kiss or a reoccurring dream that i can never forget. i became cloaked in black grain, the remnants of your body. your cremated smile was caught somewhere between the stinging in my eyes and the ash on my jacket.my body is a funeral service3 years ago in Emotional More Like This
in that moment my body became a funeral service. my lips preached your names to the trees. i forgot what it was like to feel anything but hymns pressing down on my back like the heat of the sun. i smelled of incense and bones burning in a fire people are paid to create. it was more than i could bear. for weeks, i obsessed on how someone could lift a motionless shell of a body into an inferno, watch people die a second time and accept their paycheck at the end of the day.
i wanted to step into that crematorium and pluck pulses like f
I miss you, and i can't say i'm sorryI miss you3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
because these slender, spider fingers
ache to trace the curved letters of your name tag,
emily. i notice you write everything in caps.
( have i ever told you
how much i enjoy saying your name, -EMILY. )
you are screaming to the world, quietly.
but we, we are mid-morning whispers
over stale, back room coffee,
silent eyes, and window pane love.
these hearts were runaways once;
hitchhikers on a trail to nowhere.
you shared pieces of yourself with me then,
emily, between beats and bathroom stalls.
you were a gargoyle under the heat
of july summer. evenings were our playground;
rose garden beasts lingering in feverish night.
CherishedI want you to worship this loveCherished3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I write poems about
I tore it out of a virgin womb
just for you,
and I bear it to you now, naked,
shivering in the nervousness of flesh
exposed to a cold world.
It will suck on the breasts
and kiss the lips of small-town drunks
with their whiskey-tipped breath
and hollow eyes,
and I will touch my fingers
to its precious little mouth
and feel the warm saliva
bathe my skin.
I want you to put your ear
to its unguarded chest and listen
to the murmur
of its shriveled heart,
pulsatingthe warm, lively core.
A tempest, the Red Sea succumbing to Moses.
The fall of the tower of Babel.
Watch the tidal waves thrash the sand
when it raises its fist.
God will crumble at your feet.
You will snatch up the pieces
and rebuild him
in your image, not his.
And you will be lost, crawling on your belly,
for my hand.
And I will reach for you.
I will reach for you.
wishboneone.wishbone3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
if i could move
i think all my dreams would
hold a star in my hand
and watch the starshine
[leak] out from
between my fingers.
across my skin so
that i may read
my favorite books
[anywhere i wish]
letters, addressed by hand
stamps, from places across
the sea, where stories
originate. letters, written in pen,
iced tea in street corner cafes.
a day when i can
do whatever i would like.
for you i would do
for you i would
climb into the stars.
[ <3 ]
her little hand in mine,
with starry eyes
looking into mine.
my flesh and blood and bone,
happier than i
will ever be.
[an end to this relentless cycle
of fighting and dying and winning
history is written by the winners
so who knows that is real?]
my very own happy
hurricane eyeit's the suicide notes tucked into her coat's lining that you have to watch out for.hurricane eye3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
she keeps them, you see, in case of an accident.
once, she was the hurricane's eye,
alone in that raw insanity
that we call the world.
around, everyone passed her by,
leaving her behind, a pocket
of peace. dangerous peace.
it's near impossible to be surrounded,
cornered, besieged, and not crumple.
and then the storm ended,
she was free.
she was never free, never released from the claim
of that fierce, raging wind. now she goes through life
knowing what is on the other side.
now, she is part of that hurricane, a just-in-case note
slipped under her tounge.
and she wants to warn the next girl,
struggle is never as glamorous as they make it out to be.
then, she wants to curl up in a ball and be torn apart by the winds.
a siren's song.her ribcage burst into flowersa siren's song.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
as her lungs swam to sea
and the world was silent
-like a film set on mute-
as it watched her dance
into her coral grave.
she grinned and laughed
and all you could hear
was the metallic scraping
of her tongue on her teeth
as her coppery laugh
fell into the ocean-
like a penny onto concrete.
her hair was a tangle of seaweed
drenched in brine
and adorned with salt flecks
that caught the sun in waves
crashing along the shoreline
in the treble notes of symphonies.
ensnared in wanderlust,
she ran towards the current
in hopes of finding herself
among the lost.
she wore fish-scales
on her clavicle
and sung her way down
to the bottom of atlantis.
the ships out at bay that day
only remember one thing:
she sunk like the titanic,
her bones tearing at the seams
and all that remained of her
were two hands
(whose knuckles were mountains
and skin was land)
receding into the curls
as the earth drowned into the sea.
and there was nothing left on the horizon
Leonard.his graveyard skin reflects the darkness as heLeonard.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
sighs his winter breath into my hair. I found him
in a forest of lonely one day, where we would
both hide between conversations. I tried to be
summer, with a pattern of sunray on my skin
and ice cream eyes and warm evening bonfires on
my lips. he was winter, with limbs like frozen
branches and melancholy breath.
we would entangle our bones and together hide alone in
our forest of lonely. I'd seek his cool when passers-by
threw their cigarettes at me and my dry summer skin
caught fire, and he'd seek my warmth when the frost got
the best of him and his branches started to break.
I'd cringe at the snow falling from his eyes and he'd
sigh at the sun coming up in mine, but we'd close them
and hide ourselves in the crook of each others neck.
sweet nothingsand the knife whisperedsweet nothings3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
sweet somethings in my ear that night.
( i was too weak to resist )
the pills danced
in my eyes, promising blessed
nothings, a fine line
between greatness and failure.
the world is watching,
so don't you dare fall.
you have the hopes of everyone
resting upon your shoulders.
there is no cure
I used to miss her, but I used to do many things.I used to trace lines from the tip of her toes to the crook of her neck, and paint her tummy with my tongue. I used to fold her bones between my fingers and keep them hidden in my pocket. I used to build her castles from blankets and unspoken wishes inside of which we could entangle our limbs and breathe each other's breath.I used to miss her, but I used to do many things.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
But one day she was gone,
I woke up with an empty space between my arms where she used to be. I woke up with her voice in the back of my head and her scent between my fingers. I woke up searching for her, chasing her footprints over my skin to find that they skipped from my left hipbone onto the mattress and down onto the floor and out of my room and into the world.
I used to miss her. I used to miss the conversations we didn't have, sitting wordlessly besides each other, asking questions with our fingertips, answering them with our lips, or eyes, or kneecaps. I used to miss chasing futures together, and exchanging body parts, and smelting the ends of our nerves to