eight things about growing upeight
I told my brother I was going to be a fairy when I grew up. Or a bird, or sprite something with wings so I could touch the clouds.
I learned that fairies weren't real when I was six, after I tried to jump off a parking structure to see if I could fly.
That day I also broke my leg in three places and saw an angel's face in the clouds. (And don't tell anybody, but sometimes I spend all day looking for him.)
My neighbors back in Denver had a son who was a schizophrenic. After he went off his meds for the third time, he painted the windows red and told his wife she had to abort their baby because it wasn't human.
A year l
short-term memory.and you'll never forget:short-term memory.6 months ago in Emotional More Like This
When you realized that everybody dies alone.
When you didn't take your eyeliner off one night, so in the morning
your eyes would look as hollow as you felt.
When you spent a year blacking out the sad endings in your books.
(When you wished that life could also work like that.)
When you learnt that "We need a break" means "I am going to break your heart."
When you fell in love with the stars, and the way he says "us."
When he told you, "More than just a long time."
The first time you hung up to the sound of your father laughing.
When you walked home from a party in January, and couldn't remember
if you were
another version of the truthlet's skip through the unnecessary dialogue,another version of the truth9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
the late-night phone calls where she screams until you hang up,
the "i'll see you next monday,
until then i'll just try to breathe."
let's get to the part where she dies.
there is poetry under her skin, a pulse that defies everything,
arteries clogged with stutters and pleads.
she cut her finger on a paper once,
and words swirled out along with the blood,
drenched in a bitterness of sorts.
(she licked it off, but the words remained,
spreading across her body like chicken pox).
and it still itches, skin peeling off faster
than you break promises,
do you remember the sun
scar-crossed(my fingers are colder than the solemn bluescar-crossed8 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
buried in her eyes. so much dead beauty,
like an ocean without waves).
she is fading and i cling to her,
and in this tiny little moment
we barely even exist.
why we cannot sleep at night.i.why we cannot sleep at night.10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
we have grown so accustomed
to wearing our masks
we still wonder why
the night sky
is calling my name
and i find that
i cannot close my eyes
my corneas are stars
and i'm falling
rusted and fading,
forever switching owners
forever out of place
loneliness is a disease
the world is infected.)
red leaves and Robert Frost.When I was young, my virginity was sacred. Entire religions pray over it and my father bought a gun so long as it meant protecting it.red leaves and Robert Frost.7 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
We throw away half of our refrigerator each week meanwhile, 24,000 people die of starvation every day.
Hardest part is, sometimes wasting things can't be helped.
At the bus stop, before I could drive, boys would ask for my phone number while I tugged up the neck of my shirt. Asked me how old I was while I crossed my legs under my skirt.
I told them I had a boyfriend even when it wasn't true, because they'll always respect another man more than my disinterest.
Hearing "I love you" for the first time
queen of nothing.what I've learned:queen of nothing.7 months ago in Emotional More Like This
I still remember singing in my room when I was six, and having my mother come down the hall and slam the door so hard that the windows shook.
Her nails hurt when she scraped the tears off my face. "It doesn't matter what you want," she'd always tell me.
Like, when that drunk driver swerved and hit her car I didn't want her to leave me, and it didn't matter.
Once on vacation I bought a pair of fuzzy leather heels for two hundred dollars, and when I wore them to dinner, I found out that
1. "Suede" is a fancy word for "fuzzy leather."
And 2. Good things don't last: That night my cousin told me that she thought 135
(almost) like being in loveby the time you begin to miss her,(almost) like being in love10 months ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
she'll already be lost.
she is breathing like woodwind,
plucking stray hairs like harp-strings-
but no melody is sung; and no melody is heard.
you played hard-to-get with the porcelain girl,
as wisps of her neglected words haemorrhage,
swallowed down by deaf ears.
you wanted a chase;
but she's been caught before you've begun,
and now she's choking back her tears to know she's not alone,
as you bite through the ribbons and lick the innocence away
from the girl that's just pretty enough,
before she's forgotten, completely.
Stephanie -Collab(I wrote us in free verse over every inchStephanie -Collab9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
of your tattered surface ).
you were the beatific grin
of a kindergartener high off oxygen,
mouth stretched wide as the entrance to hell,
black tongue bleeding virtuous sin like ichor.
(You taught me praying was for the weak
as I fell for your gypsum nails,
white teeth scrabbling over my chalkboard frame).
all poets are used to deceitare you still savoringall poets are used to deceit10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
the taste of deceit
off the edge
of your limerick tongue?
you know what i mean
you "poet of unusual sorts,"
chaotic green eyes
and skin of pale misfortune
leaving scents of sweet seas when oceans
begin to spite you.
yes, your silent panthers,
loyal only to the sound of sonnets
of broken piano chords
and keys and torn six-strings.
those slithe things will
prove to you
that betrayal is just eight letters
of pleasure undercover.
it's these little beauties that
will make you see;
every liar was an artist
and every poet was a whore,
just till the point
they owned you no more.
things that go unspoken(you love this body - this diseasedthings that go unspoken9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
vessel, for more than it is worth.)
i am only a dead star with
a pretty name;
the afterglow of us
is still my most flattering light.
i can no longer open my mind
like a gift, cram meteors
into my chest to smash the logic
you put there.
i am icarus,
resin-winged in memory:
flying at the thought of
bending and bending and
for something louder than
longing to explore
the crevices of clouds
and brush past your fog
(as if it is simple, like
catholic school cursive
feelings that lift
from the canvas of my lips
let's pretend this never happenedbecause honestly,let's pretend this never happened10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
i don't know you and this was
just a big mistake, she says
the morning sun peeks in
through the curtain as she pulls
on yesterday's shirt and i catch
my last glimpse of her thin
shoulder blades, protruding like
wings about to burst out of their
seams. she won't look at me.
the floor creaks with her weight
as she gathers her things. i've
already forgotten her eyes, wide
with wonder, and her lips, her
slender jawbone. i wish she
would turn around. i try to speak,
but words don't come.
her bare feet pad across the
room and she pauses in the doorway,
head turned to the side, as if listening,
perhaps to my heavy heart beating.
the set of her shoulders, hunched like
an eagle about to take flight, makes
me think she's going to break into a
thousand pieces, and i long to catch
them all and fix her. i long to know this girl,
this girl without a name who carries
herself like a hummingbird. i want to ask
her about the tattoo that runs along her
Clichei. true loveCliche9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
& you were that one famous line
of a love poem 1863 sonnet
scripted down your spine, verses
of sternum & shuddering heartbeat.
i remember the sheets twisted blue
as the eventide, your eyes like thelassia,
that species of ocean grass. we swayed
to the music of galaxies colliding.
our song was the day the tides
finally curled round the moon's face.
eventides, thelassia eyes, moon
great and heavy as that one lucky coin
that refused to land, to grant a wish
or let luck decide for us. there were
star crabs scuttling under your
oragami skin. & i never realized
all the ways that you folded
astronomerswhen we're togetherastronomers8 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
dusk is containable; the moon in my palms
and the stars on your ceiling.
we lull the city to sleep
with our theories of life; my tongue curling
do you remember,
when Jupiter was a silver wick, lighting its countless moons?
you balanced a cigarette off your lips,
and I watched the vermillion flame burn life
as a newborn sun;
planets moulding and constellations snaked
above our eyes.
what it would be like to be curled
inside the embers creator and destroyer
so close to your lips.
Collection of poetic nothings.We were opal Tuesdays,Collection of poetic nothings.5 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
tattooed into the
rose garden curve
of my vertebrae,
gliding me through this wild youth.
But, like Icarus—
I was a sky conqueror
& these silk wings
touched the sun.
My inhalations are heavy,
like the earth he bruises
beneath his fingertips
as I chase silence.
"You've got a tongue
made for words." He says
against the arrogant thorns
of my briar spine.
"Learn to love yourself."
How do I say I love you
without saying I love you?
"I want to replace my heart with you."
You are spider silk woven
into my harvest moon
limbs traveling this road map
fallsnowi remember when it began, a snowflake trapped in eyelashesfallsnow5 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
waking up to find my feet cold and buried white
the window menacing as crystal fangs grow
it fell faster, stalking, none the wiser but me
as the supermarkets grew slippery
and offices turned to caves made of ice
even under the sun, an avalanche
gushing like a river, the frozen powder covered all
children and birds became paper puppets in play
how odd to see the snowpeople alive
i walked, just a ghost
as it fell, and fell
but nobody saw
and nobody cared
it's not that bad
just me and the snow
and the blizzard finally blinded me
only winter left in my mind
with a whisperthis is how we rule the world,with a whisper4 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
the forgotten, lobotom-ised,
of a long lost dystopast.
not with a SHOUT,
we do not argue.
we do not even unsheath
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
our opinions onto others
pressing the side of the blade
down onto the fles
zero.zero.7 months ago in Emotional More Like This
5. I think I'm afraid of sex.
It's terrifying that two people can fit together perfectly, without even really liking each other at all.
4. I'm afraid of the day I start replacing myself with somebody else in all of our pictures; of the day I'll see my reflection and wish I didn't have to.
3. I'm afraid of doctors, and medicine.
The first time I took lithium, I couldn't hold it down. So I locked the bathroom door and flushed the entire bottle.
The second time, I couldn't walk more than ten steps without falling.
Honestly, I'm just wondering why they use poison to purify me.
2. I'm afraid of the ocean.
I'm afraid of looking down one d
Whiskey Laden DreamsBitter eyes and tears might taint a drink, but sitting in this bar alone with your stool pulled out next to me, and the Martini poured regardless of your presence still brings a smile to my face; despite the taste. I'm having a whiskey myself; dry. Yes, I know I don't drink, but every once in a while you need whiskey to solve an intricate problem, and mine is the distinct lack of alcohol in my life.Whiskey Laden Dreams1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
There are people everywhere and it amazes me how none of them are you, from the woman in the black dress coming down the stairs to the signing couple in the corner, laughing silently. They're not you at all, and that's what's amazing in an
the nightmare goes like this:the nightmare goes like this:the nightmare goes like this:6 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
an apron, clean pine green,
at work. the girls i know
so sweet and auburnborn
fixing hot chocolate behind
the bar. halloween blows
in tonight, burn out the
lights. burned out the
lights. smear our faces in
emerald green, walk the
corridors ziplipped as a
field mouse. the acid sizzles
in my mouth and the paint
leaves patches from neck to
navel. brown as something
yellow left in the oven too long,
the length of my torso a
flamethrower's crime scene, a
dinner embarrassingly overdone.
the girls see them and laugh
like i am a carousel burbling
highpitched ice cream music,
they sit me at their feet, a
Her Musethese words are not poetryHer Muse9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
swimming liquid fire through ashes
of dead phoenix veins.
no, they are rough and callused
with over use, their own faithless artists
spewing black tar from their lungs
in the hopes to one day breathe again.
nothing moves her.
she would rather scribble her heart out
on physical manifestations of her own reality-
on skin and bones she worships like a temple.
"Write of me," he says, "right here."-
planting sun-stricken kisses
along the hollow of her burning throat.
"I want to be where your heart sleeps."
thoughts in my ankles 1.thoughts in my ankles8 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
sometimes i think i must be hanging
with hooks in my ankles
and chains strung to the stars, arms
wriggling to hug the planet close in
an attempt to reach the
and my eyes are bouncing
out of my head
on twine harnesses like they're
dancing on measuring-tape ribbons
until they slip and plummet and land far
below with a splat.
sometimes i think the moon has an
on a relapse-recovery-relapse
cycle. starving until
he disappears and then, frantically,
he climbs back into life,
gorgeous and round and bright
but the mirror cracks up
blue and gold are not just colorsshe had been blue-sightedblue and gold are not just colors9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
dawn cracked her forehead.
it was the dress she wore on his funeral
the color of her school flag
the shine in her father's eyes;
she waited in blue and gold.
no, she refused to set a bar
life didn't just come to her.
she earned her place
in her mother's womb
when each blood vessel questioned her
each nerve ending, if she could live
and each antibody, if she was worth it.
see, she doesn't need new dresses.
she has a memory
for each of hers in her locked closet.
she may not wear all of them
(and most she cringes at the sight of)
but her heart
every time bits of her old
now it's just dirt under my fingernails.Novak carried an umbrella with her everywhere for nine years. And when he asked her why, she told him, "Ever since my dad died, sometimes it feels like the sky is falling."now it's just dirt under my fingernails.11 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
That was six months ago, and he still catches himself checking for cracks between the clouds when it rains.
He likes to remember her eyes. The left was blue and the right was brown, like two people in one, and faded, like old photographs.
But then he remembers that old photographs are the only things she exists in now, and his office will get so small that he needs to go outside to breathe.
He wanted to be gentle, even if he couldn't think of a way how
Mabonthere are dead leavesMabon7 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
sprouting from her amber spine,
reaching with child-fingers
to devour the sun.
her skin is freezing,
seeping winter through
the whiskey tongues
of godless boys
wish to decipher
the atlas of her thighs.
counting the sleepy fireflies
alight in her lungs- there is
wanderlust churning & warming
her frostbitten heartstrings.
swinging pendulum hips,
"I am the tease of autumn flames.
I breathe in mint sunsets,
& gasoline dreams."