cratersI like to think that over this past year you've come to understand
that my heart is a cratered sun
and my veins make up constellations across my vulnerable vertebrae,
because when I close my eyes,
it's you that my subconscious summons as I sleep,
There's just something about you that completely electrifies my skin,
your touch draws conclusions between the freckles on my forearms
and I'm left wondering how you even connected the dots,
But you make me nervous in a young kind of way
and there's this fragile sense of longing that I'm not quite sure i understand,
although tonight I could feel your laugh settle between my palms like a lost lamb
and for a moment I let your innocence brush over my fingertips
and it felt like that moment was ours and ours alone,
So let's hold onto railroads
like we're about to be run over,
and let's hold onto candles
until our waxen limbs burn down to the wick,
and let's hold onto each other
while the stars drip down over our shoulders to melt away our sins.
waketrembling lips,wake1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
can't breathe, at least not steadily,
paint me turquoise
or be the forest to my fire,
actually I'd rather you were nothing, at least nothing to me,
now I can feel nightfall coming upon the manifestation of a July moon,
so let's let those clouds burst and rip wide open
just as though the clouds were my organs and
the rain were my blood.
MonthsThe stars whisper softly, into theMonths2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Ears of those who want to believe
'And if she leaves you, smile, for
It's just the bones she's made of'
They met, in a pet shop up front
He- bought nothing. She- fed the birds
And took them home. They flew away
Instantly, Leaving the boy to fall
The girl bittersweet,
Welcomed him in, humming, and
He kept her up all night when she
Said she loved the starlighted sky
Up on their rooftop she finally
Confessed; "Some would call me
caged, but I believe I'm free"
Only then he noticed, her fragile
bones were ment to fly; he let her go
The Art of ForestryIf it were only appropriate to speakThe Art of Forestry1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
of a single touch, of what it means,
of what it feels.
Our forearms graze and so I hold very still,
I never want to lose a second of
you against me.
My entire being shivers along the
shores of your skin
and all of my nerve endings are electrified
when I imagine our relationship evolving into
lilac limbs, freshly kissed lips, and
lieing next to you on rainforest floors.
We create a completely nuclear reaction,
a mixture of fusion, friction, and fascination.
So believe me when I say, oh boy I love you,
I really do,
yes, I want you so,
closer than tires upon pavement,
and like a car you turn into me,
and like a car you take me places,
you even take my daydreams to extraordinary realms
where I wake in the midst of the woods,
the air is slick and crisp
and I can feel your muddy, autumn hands
dancing along my flaking, fir tree flesh,
the dirt runs damp between our toes
and we become nothing but creatures of the forest;
living off each other's lo
And I will Always be the MoonWe have gotten so attached to these days and these months,And I will Always be the Moon1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
but a deer doesn't know a Tuesday from a Thursday
and a caribou can't comprehend that it was born on a September afternoon,
but they can understand this instant, this moment, this breath,
only now, no longer the past, and only the future when they get there,
there's a healthy lack of awareness in that,
escaping the fear of death but thriving off the instinct to live,
everything so primal and based off gut reactions,
I guess you could say ignorance is bliss,
but ignorance only actually applies when it comes to humanity,
oh I would like a life like that,
one that is organic, tangible, and ripe with bloody berries,
one where carnal creatures run rampant,
one where we rise from the dirt with muddy thighs
because we were bred into these earthly bodies
to hold seconds in our palms like newborn children,
and to throw our heads back and howl against the awareness that we are dying,
for oh this skin is only our host,
Alone, not LonelyI'm jealous that she doesn't have friendsAlone, not Lonely1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
She sings herself to sleep, but wakes up in song
She forgets to need the comfort of company
Company is complicated and confining and confronting
Colourful questions come from quiet isolation
While the loud outside world has produced famine and darkness
Where once there was abundance and light
Sometimes I wonder if she even notices...
I wonder what she thinks of, who, if at all
Perhaps it's a great nothingness, all-consuming
Yet hopefully lonely and joyously solitary
Is it the books that she reads, the very words?
Or perhaps the silence of reading is an excuse
A cover under which to retreat into her own mind
Sometimes I wonder if she even notices...
There's a certain silence about music, quiet or loud
White noise receeds and the voices in your head retreat
She doesn't seem depressed in conversation or even uncomfortable
She vacations in loud arguments with still louder people
Yet relaxes only on her lonesome, even while I watch
five.v. one word that reminds you of absence.five.1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
we had a habit of sending each other postcards no matter where we were, and i kept each one you sent me in a shoe box.
i remember the year that you got stranded in barstow, california and how you stopped to buy me a postcard in a cvs. you wrote that you'd been so excited that you'd stepped out of that tiny, stuffy store without paying and that you'd heard sirens around the corner and had sprinted all ten blocks in 102 degrees just to pay the 92 cents that it cost so that they wouldn't arrest you. silly boy, i've always loved that about you -- how easily your conscience will get the best of you because it keeps you honest, and you keep me honest. i remember the way your sweaty hand smeared the ink of your tiny script and how i could barely make out your short, bunched up words, but i could make out "i miss you," because i missed you too.
but postcards can't make you waffles in the morning and they can't feed t
four.iv. one word that conveys the feeling of caring.four.1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
you and your warm breath curling slowly around the soft lobe of my ear.
if in the middle of the night, i could not find your softly snoring body curled up at my feet, i would fear that something had gone horribly wrong.
how do animals do that? curl up in the tiniest parts of you?
if i died tonight, i'd have to admit that i never really loved another person. but when it came to you and your tiny dirty paws, yes you, i did love you, and i loved you with even that tiniest, loneliest part of me.
it does not take much to love the broken pieces of another human being. i find myself constantly awakening to bits of men still in my bed, men still smothered in whiskey flavored kisses and tossed aside like the empty boxes of condoms and the empty bags of mini oreos that i ri
let's embrace silence and dance"I don't want to talk."let's embrace silence and dance1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
do you remember our friendship? you were my best friend, you know that. we used the sticky, summer sand to have snowball fights by the water, because we both knew it would never snow in the heat. oh, and that sand hurt, but we laughed through the pain. I guess pain is meaningless when you're seven. at night we wandered down the pier and chased the lightning bugs in and out of the tide. if we were lucky enough, we could catch one. your luck was always better than mine. lighting up the shore, we kept them in jars and placed them in a circle. I gave you my grandmother's bracelet, kissed you on the cheek, blushed, and told you the gift would remind you that someone always loves you. we stayed out there all night; I can't recall many of our conversations. but just your presence in the semi-darkness was good enough for me.
do you remember when I started to fall in love with you? we were sprawled on the dock behind my overgrown backy
Six Times on a TrainThe sunrise is silentSix Times on a Train1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Behind the receding hush
Of a city just waking up
Emily's hair reflects
The sun's reds and oranges
And smells of cigarettes
We're lying on top of the pergola
Not interested or deterred
By the dew and the droppings
Just her in my arms
And this: a brand new day
Out of my window drift soft tunes
The first few notes of Parking Lot
Are the sweetest ones for me
We promised eachother
That we wouldn't have a song
Our song was supposed to be
A self-written cry of relief
Etched into the wrists of young teens
But Mineral could say that better
With screaming guitars and off-key vocals
Ironically, it just seemed more poetic
Emily changed her hair
I couldn't take my eyes
Off of that firey red-head
Even before I recognised her
She tried being angry at me
But realised that she was just
Jealous of herself and smiled instead
She smiles a lot now
Not the curiously withdrawn smiles
That I tumbled dangerously in love with
But real smiles; ones with teeth
And precious droplet
3:00 amif all that was left was your toothbrush in my bathroom,3:00 am2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
maybe this would be a lot easier.
i've always been terrified of airplanes and forgetting
but when they learned how to make me forget you
i took the goddamned needle into my arm myself and jabbed until
there was nothing left but blood and the bruises you gave me
that time you lost your temper.
but even i couldn't let you go,
not fully anyway,
because once upon a time you'd kissed my nose
and neck and i'd kissed you on a rollercoaster,
and some good things should never die.
even something like us shouldn't die.
if you could've just realized how badly i was hurting,
then maybe even we could be rising from the ashes right now.
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.2 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
kissing and pomegranates.certain people just touch you. you know?kissing and pomegranates.2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
in a way that's more profound than you're necessarily comfortable with. and it can happen in a second. in a second when you laugh just as you swallow and start choking on some pomegranate seeds, and you're crying because you can't stop laughing and because those goddamned seeds went down the wrong goddamned pipe again but this is just too fucking funny!
and you're mad at this boy with dark curly hair because he's laughing more as your eyes start to cry in the corners and as you turn more and more scarlet. you even push him away as he leans in to press his lips against your cheek but he knows you don't mean it. and he gets that look. you know the look. that look where everything around you goes away. all the noise, the lights, the people sitting inches away from you. and it's only his dark, dark eyes that you can see. and that mess of hair. and it's only his laughter that manages to pierce through the roaring in your ears as he leans in.
freeHer cut lip was leaving a trailfree2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Through the early woods
The cracking leaves left stained autumn
And birds' nests emptied of their predators
Snakes keep homes in the canopy
But some of us are afraid to climb
Accuracy and PrecisionI can pin point the moment I fell in love with you,Accuracy and Precision2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
but I can't pin it to my sleeve.
Today I learned my favorite word is Mercury; which brings back memories of memorizing planets
and running on playgrounds in muddy dresses.
My life isn't long,
but it's filled with familiarity that leads me to thinking things better left un-thought.
Imagine my shock when I stared at the sky and thought only of sharing these things with you.
And then I remember that for every whisper left wayward,
from my mouth to your ears,
was only conformation of something I already knew.
I can pin point the moment my heart tore in two,
it was the moment I realized dreams like these don't come true.
charming serpents .c.If you thought I'd be okay with your musty bedroom eyes sweeping like the wind across my skin and leaving me breathless, waiting, missing you, you thought wrong. My hands are twisted in my lap and the braid you wove into my hair lies on my back like a bad mistake and darling, I can still taste you, sea salt and vanilla, on my breath. You've left me gasping, grasping at myself to keep the world from fading, but I refuse to need you the way you need me to.charming serpents .c.1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The leaky faucet in the hallowing corners of my mind clip clops like steel-toed horse shoes along the washboard in the gravel driveway. My knuckles are cracked and splintered, peeling away alongside the acrylic, eggshell paint. I am indifferent to the cold crawl of your hands along my spine and the hollow sunday good mornings. The walls are crumbling around our practiced game of cat and mouse, and I'm fever stricken for rolling thunder. I promise to live in this facade, if you promise to make me feel alive again.
Make me feel you there
a little drummer boyi would love to just wait it out.a little drummer boy3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
another nap. another lap.
we're the same.
cars drive by as i slip and trip,
children in the cars don't look
it's cold out there and a friend
told me that we're expecting 30cm
a storm on a no-school day.
he tells me things
about tricks and games he likes
about tests and scores he loves
'i love the human mind and how
it works. i can make most people
do things without really knowing
i made them do it'
and i go,
'not everyone is out there to get
he tells me things
like it's not destructive
and it's best for a business
and i sigh,
'and i pity the fool who falls
in love with you'
he doesn't say much.
but he asks me things,
things that get under my skin
and bleed out through my gums
'why are you falling for me?'
he's colder than the rest
but he looks like he can
use someone to just lean on,
or hold on.
but he doesn't want to.
i offer my shoulder yet he'd
flaw-fullsometimes i wonderflaw-full2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
what it would be like if i cut the insides of my cheeks
out, like crescent moons, like hollow balloons, and
stitched the ripped seams together,
so the slimy jagged sides looking to the
greener grass on the other side of my teeth can
mend back into each other,
without the substance of my face;
and to be
a broken doll, strung up with strings, grinning
with cherry-stained lips,
the scars on the inside instead of glaring outwardly
oh, that would be
irreversibly and undeniably flawless.
breaking open.you made me want to break open like an eggshell over concrete: a messy affair, no clean edges or neat corners.breaking open.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you made me want to fall in rough zig-zag chalklines like we drew when we were young and fresh-flesh and unbroken. when life was yet untested waters and we were the new leather of of gloves over eager fingers.
you made me feel dirty like the red-blood-oklahoma dirt that clung like piss to our skin and under our tired-grit-eyed lids and beneath the hairline of our unshowered heads.
invasive, like a contagion; a wildfire in my limbs.
my own revulsion:
a knee-jerk reaction set to keep forever reliving the day i let you set the course for the empty air above the seductive gleam of a lake.
i wanted to inhale you like smoke into my polluted lungs, so that maybe as you dragged yourself back up my throat in jagged coughs, maybe you'd understand just a little the insides of me.
the truth is,
i started carving gills in my skin
so when his hands come for m
fading to grayThe colors were simply not in her favor today.fading to gray1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
She stood underneath the willowing wisps of afternoon clouds and glazed her fingers along the pastel work in progress. The sun floated between the clouds casting animalistic shadows along the curves of her image. When the light gleamed along the damp acrylic paint, her heart cracked and she sighed.
Every shape every object every person mixed and matched colors to create their sole complexion. She had yanked pastels out of the cobwebbed closets and located the darker shades from the dampening concrete basement in the hopes of capturing the perfect hue.
His face was always faint in her mind like a ghost trailing her skirts and tripping on the hems. She was helpless and hopeless and floundering outside the soft edges of her surface. His absence was shaking her and the lack of his essence was shattering her porcelain bone structure.
She couldn't decide if his life was filled to brim with all the colors of the rainbow and then some but he had n
Lines Are Simple ThingsI miss lighting matches on hilltopsLines Are Simple Things1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
And feeling like we were significant
Pinpricks of light in the dark, rainy nights
I miss waking up without opening my eyes
And finding your lips by sense
As if our teeth were magnets of opposite polarity
I miss piggyback rides in the cemetery
And the way my hair made snakes on your neck
When it was blowing in the wind
(IX.180)i.(IX.180)1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
a nereid was all she'd ever hoped to be
but she found a shell
on the shore tonight
& held it up to hear
the sounds of the sea;
she listened to the moon's melody
& watched the waves wash
over the grains of
a son of a sailor was all he'd ever been
but poseidon still had plans,
or at least
that's the song he still sung;
he wore a shell in his hair
& the scent of salt on his skin
& continued on course towards
what could be
there were no gods
but she believed in him
& he believed in the stars
as they guided him
across blue oceans
& dark skies,
ceaselessly into the current
on the beach tomorrow
she'll weave strands of sargassum
into her hair
& string pearls
that shine like the sun
from the hollow of her neck;
she'll leave the shell
on the altar of the deep
lost at sea
is the place to be
the little things.The night caves in.the little things.2 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
The GhostShe screams at midnight.The Ghost2 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
She lives under moonshine.
and by day she cries.