ParisI want my life to be soft. I want it to be nothing but sunrises and twilight, sunflares and moonlight. I don't want to have to deal with noontimes, or 3:32 pm, or 9-o-clock in the morning. Nothing interesting ever happens at 9. It's between the horizon and the sky. It's between the croissants and the salads. It's water. It's melted butter on a sidewalk that's just begun to grow hot. It's a young female's strawberry smoothie that isn't actually a smoothie at all, just pink powdered protein and water because society told her that 200 pounds is 200 too many and she's caved.
My life is full of noontimes. Hot ones, rainy ones, briskly cold yet sun
StarsIt isStars2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
when our eyes
I see you
reflected in your eyes
you don't feel
Wholeheartedly.After the yelling,Wholeheartedly.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The broken glass and
Bent dreams that were
Thrown away in the black
Glad garbage bag
Hung over the knob of the cleaning cabinet.
The floor was dirty.
Covered in sticky, spilled beer and
Half empty soda cans.
Paper plates and coffee filters and
Ashes and cigarette butts and
Littered with expectations and hopes
That spilled out of every orifice
Of the human who lost them.
Crushed by the weight of knowledge lost
When the blood came.
And when it came,
The soul escaped
Along with the hopes, dreams and
Expectations for the new beginning
That caused the end.
It shone and glittered
Casting light o
Sacrifice Returns the SoulCrying inside,Sacrifice Returns the Soul2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Begging to know
The secrets that possess you,
The thoughts behind your eyes
The locks to the happenings
Inside your mind.
But not daring to ask,
Out of fear.
Fear that you wouldn't say,
Or worse, that
You would blame
All this heartbreak on me.
Knowing in my heart
I am to blame
For this bedraggled version
Of the person you used to be.
And those beautiful eyes,
Cocoa- colored eyes,
Stare blankly ahead
Through the cracked windshield
Which is all I can offer,
Because its all I've ever had.
I can feel it,
Slowly, surely seeping away.
The emotion, the feeling
The soul in your body,
WaitingI want to fall asleepWaiting2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
With my head on her shoulder
Cradled in her arms
Covered with story-telling skin
And nothing else.
I want it to be real
When I'm holding her hand
Tracing my fingers over ivory and denim
And the wispy, silver- winged smoke
And I want what, so far
I cannot have
So I am forever
Waiting for her
Because she is waiting for me.
Wind-Whipped SoulsYour empty blue green eyes,Wind-Whipped Souls2 years ago in Scraps More Like This
The locks to your mind,
Look right through me,
They're open; but for some reason, I can't find the strength to look inside.
You close your cold hands around a cup of
Bitter, convenient store coffee.
Sitting in the cloth covered, beat up passenger seat,
Staring through the cracked window, all I've ever known.
How am I supposed to help you here?
I'd wipe the blood from your paperthin skin,
But that's a solution you hate. It never comes to that,
And I wouldn't have the tools to do it anyways.
I'd pry the murder away from your mind, but it's hidden,
Locked away, for another confession.
Drive down the roa
HumansSometimes I wish for the taste of metalHumans1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
The graceful ringing crunch
Of a blue sheet
Being pushed and pulled out of the civilised world
Only to return to another version of the
Unstructured wild it once came from
The only remnants of its past life:
Sometimes I wish for the taste of metal
Of reflective glass splintering away
From a shiny silver page
That tells the stories of fleshy robots
Cynical and vain
Looking for aurbrushed photographs
In the simple dirty reflection of mechanical procedures.
Sometimes I wish for the taste of metal
Of small, rusted, shining shapes
Dully glinting in the brightest midday sun
BeliefIs there reallyBelief2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
An all powerful superhero
Sitting in the sky,
Controlling your every move,
Thinking your every thought,
Providing your every breath?
Are you certain
That there's an invisible spirit
Hiding out above the atmosphere,
Shaking the ground,
Wringing out the clouds,
Lighting the sun every morning?
Can you show me
This omnipresent, heaven-dweller
Who flies among the celestial beings,
Hiding himself from his creations,
Because they should have faith in him
Or a book?
Inspiring a Teenage BoyIt was late morning when I got to my friend's place and knocked on her door. She opened it, smiled, and then let me in. I looked around and saw that no one else was in the apartment. I asked her where everyone was at and she replied that her younger and older sisters were out shopping, while her parents were still at work.Inspiring a Teenage Boy2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
After some idle chitchat, she invited me into her room to listen to some music. I shook my head and said, "Didn't your mom say you weren't allowed to have boys in your room?"
She laughed and replied, "Don't worry! She won't be home for at least a couple of
curious company'this town is too small,'curious company2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
'too small for things
to actually change.'
a lit cigarette dangled from her lips
but we ignored the smoke;
the light coming from the tip
will burn longer than anything she knew.
such a nonchalant complaint
dismissed with a blink;
she flicked the embers out onto the street.
there's the sidewalk for a chair,
but the runt of a tree for a roof
fails to cover the disappoint
she always found herself wading through.
a siren in the distance
coming to save her?
no, not this time.
a rescue slowly passed by,
hoping for her acknowledgement
but she knowingly misses the chance;
the words of her
unlearn the constellationsI may carry my voiceunlearn the constellations2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
on white-crested wingtips
but I refuse to take the names of birds.
My throat is not a desert
with smoldered star limbs
in place of sand, not a stone
for you to overturn and mark
with gentle cloud prints
or leave in the mud
to be perforated by bright moss.
My song is not made
to be thundered like a body
on the wind, to be bellowed
by the jagged mouths
of some distant, forgotten jungle.
It is made to slide along the edges
of twenty burning suns and rise
like a halo of newfound breath
from the crevice which splits
earth and sea. To break open
like the young, wet-winged dove
born of a glorious mud
which cracks mountains wi
AnswersWatching from the windowsillAnswers2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Eyes fill with tears
Staring at the blank horizon
You don't have to do this dear
Take a hand from the cold winter moon
There is still peace
Everyone is watching you
Don't forget to breathe
Stars twinkle in the sky
No shade on the passerby
They don't pay attention
No one really listens
Watching from far away
Mind begins to go blank
You don't need to feel this way
This isn't meant to separate
Watching from the windowsill
Eyes fill with tears
Staring at the blank horizon
You don't have to do this dear
CalamityI keep expectationsCalamity2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in my back jean pocket
and i tuck disappointment
into the folds of my shirts
they stay with me always
while confidence makes friends
with the dust bunnies under my bed
I store empty promises
under the weight of my spine
crushed by back bone shoulder blades
turned from fragile bones to wings that will never fly
and there is always anger
hidden beneath my fingernails
flooding my lungs until I can no longer breathe
while pleasure and pride
become the lost love child
of closets and old shoe boxes
frustration sleeps in my veins
accumulating like blood clots
incompetence makes itself at home
in the spaces bet
DiseaseSometimes I inhale too many different emotions and they stack up inside my rib cage, tearing at my lungs and weighing me down like bricks. I want to scream to get them out but the wider I open my mouth, the further into my body they sink, determined to intertwine themselves with the fibers of my body. I want to move, flail, dance to get them out but it's like sewing them into my stomach and I'm so overcome that I can't speak or move or think and all I can do is sit and wait and feel these emotions until they sink away into my feet. They're beginning to pile up now, and some days it's hard to walk because they're so heavy, filling mDisease11 months ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Summer WomanWoman, you are my burnt sienna sculpture on Sun-days.Summer Woman2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You are hiding my strength in rufous hair
and I feel you: russet-flushed to the touch,
jagged collarbone curving into neck,
easing into shoulders, into breasts;
woman, you are the warmest stone –
you are summery stone
to my water-drenched hands.
Woman in deepest reverie, you are hiding
my strength in pacific oceans of titian;
in running veins. My grasp
slips from skin slopes of sun and stone,
slips from you.
Woman of ragged flint and oil,
in sleep, your wind-kissed stone-neck drifts,
surges into a soft arch in air –
and does not meet ground;
and does not bow.
TeenagersThese days young love is made fromTeenagers1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Fast cars and razor blade scars,
Staying out late to watch sex tapes,
Mixing tea and vodka with dirty water,
Blowing smoke and smoking dope,
Playing in the sand and holding hands
Just hoping they don't get burned
ImpairedI used to think,Impaired2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you were an architect;
you demolished my walls,
so I would invite you in.
But maybe you were a wrecking ball;
tearing me down,
and making me small.
I imagined you an engineer;
tinkering with minuscule pieces,
until they formed a mechanism,
that fit perfectly in your hand.
Perhaps you were an open flame--
and never leaving them the same.
I believed you were a doctor;
a cardiologist of some kind--
sewing together broken pieces,
and making me whole.
But maybe you were something,
I was too blind to see;
maybe you were just a disease,
The WritersPapyrusThe Writers2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Smell it upon thy nose
As lungs of graphite
Breathe in the body
Shapely and refined
Crisp and sharp
Verily it is so
Perchance we will meet
Our souls are black
Rotten to the core
Of our third eye
Dost thou see it!
The bright shining light that calls to us
Flow like water
What music doth flow
Muffled and silenced
By its cage of wood
We shall never break free
Smell our stench of determination
Hear our mutter ramblings
Taste our words as we force them
mirages.he's a beautiful boy dressed as a nightmare, and he manages to lull everyone into his eyes. tendrils of blood trail after his delicate fingers, and he says he can be taken higher than ever. he holds you as gently as possible, and his skin silently burns alongside yours. something about his kisses tastes not quite right, but when he presses his red, red lips harder against yours, you can't quite focus.mirages.2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
he paints mirages of broken legs and collapsed hearts, draws suns of forgotten dreams and fearsome pulsations. because somehow, he doesn't survive, doesn't live through storms of fire, doesn't end up seeing the light of day. he scratches at the
I know someone...I know someone who's new and scared, just waiting for his chance, but with that chance comes insecurity and a smile that just isn't his.I know someone...3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I know someone full of smiles and tears, and when the day ends, that's still all she has, nothing more than smiles and tears.
I know someone who wants to fix the world, but acts as if he'd rather set it ablaze, and when the fire's in his eyes, I know he's really just burning with pain.
I know someone wonderful, kind and true down to her core, but her pretty face goes overlooked, and those eyes fill with the sadness she tries to hide.
I know someone innocent, whose wings are tainted with the blood of a do
This is not about you .These words are not about you.This is not about you .1 year ago in Emotional More Like This
The curves of these letters are here to imitate the shape of your spine when I have you pressed against the wall. They mock the shape of my breasts against your burning palms, the sharp prickle of your jaw resting at the base of my neck as you moan the name you could have sworn you've forgotten but it always just wiggles its way free from between your teeth.
Don't misunderstand, these words are not about you.
This is purely and solely about me and my battle between giving up and giving in. Either way, the winner turns out to be you.
I was counting crooked stars and telling you that snow feels hot to my touch
The StarsI hate the stars.The Stars2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
They make me feel small again,
a baby in a world of grown-ups,
all using complicated words
that I haven't learned yet.
The stars represent everything.
Everything that I'm not,
and the single thing that I am:
If only I could tell youAfter so many years I've found what I'm looking forIf only I could tell you2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
It's you, just you my dear, and nothing more
Because you filled me with something I've never felt before
When we first met we established more than just a rapport
You changed my world in a blink of an eye
That is something that I will never deny
You did the impossible and warmed my frozen soul
That's a reason why when I'm with you I feel whole
When you're near I never feel the need to shed a tear
Your mere touch chases away every single fear
You managed to convince me that life is worthwhile
I actually believe the sun shines brighter when you smile
I can't believe how, ev
Oh Dear.He is an Oscar Wilde inspired man-poetOh Dear.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Whose subjects are as real as glass.
He is a silly chorus boy
Spending far too much time in the music room.
He is a reader,
Who hums to himself while his eyes float across the page.
He is real-
But I don't even know his name.
And I am already infatuated.
Because we needyou whispered, "the night is young, and so are we," and so i listened.Because we need2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
sitting, leaning against the bumper of the old pickup truck, we heard the frogs in the bulrushes croaking their riverbed song, rurrp rurrp rurrp. and even though the night was cold and the creek tickled our toes, your hand was warm.
later, you'd watch the stars and i'd put my converse back on, but the moment was never lost.
that night, we slept in the bed of the truck, and in the morning, had costco churros for breakfast. we drove for hours that day, letting miles of deep golden brown disappear under our tires. then you said you were reminded so much of the flag of our