Your orange skin makes me warm in December
like the Sea is a blanket to the sand
and the Sun nurtures youth to our land
i'll be Your pocket -
You may keep all Your secrets inside of me
be shy and be not
there's nothing You should be afraid of
while You're here, with me
on this Pale Blue Dot.
Baby's lullabyall of the children went to their beds,Baby's lullaby2 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
a soft starry light guarding their heads;
hush now baby, don't you weep,
silence is just music put to sleep.
the most terrifying thing in the worldnever knowing.the most terrifying thing in the world2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Love LiesLove lies.Love Lies2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
And I was never in love.
I will deny it every time you ask.
I will say "No."
I will say "It didn't mean anything."
I will say "I'm fine."
In your fingertips as you trace
The curves of my body,
Memorizing every turn.
And I was happy.
But suddenly I'm screaming and
Holding my head in my hands
Because I can't remember how to breathe.
And I'm pounding my dashboard because
I can't handle listening to this song anymore.
But I don't like the silence.
And I didn't ask for this.
I didn't mean to spit my heart out so close
To your feet because you keep stepping on it,
And I don't think you even realize it.
I don't want to lean into your words
As they fall from your soft lips
Because I know that they're false.
And it makes me angry as hell.
I guess what I'm saying is:
I don't need you.
I don't want you.
I was never yours.
And I was never in love.
I will deny it every time you ask.
I will say "No."
I will say "It didn't mean
HeroineSometimes,Heroine2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
she tries to fall into the night,
tipping her strawberry heart
like a tea bag into hot waters-
always scolding herself
kissing ocean beds.
Her hips, tides rolling
towards the antagonists
of myths & legends.
with a thousand leagues
of sea behind her eyes,
she will always save herself.
ConstellationShe is dream dust,Constellation2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
too bitter or wise
for her own good.
A timeless dragon's soul
somewhere inside a
scaled shell, burning
the silence in her bones
alive, honeysuckle sweet.
She collects fireflies only to
set them free at 3am,
crying to an uncaring moon.
& she's begging for the stars
to take her away,
make this house a home
rigged in the sky.
She is already naked fever
swimming through the cosmos
& I orbit her.
Crayon SoulmatesDear Stars,Crayon Soulmates2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I have a bone to pick with you. You see, when I was six, I called myself the nowhere girl... and I coloured myself a soulmate. I made him on crumpled sheets, with broken pieces of crayon, on a playground that was too busy wondering whether growing up entailed stealing your mother's cigarettes and your father's dirty magazines (I suppose I was already wise enough to know that growing up meant choosing one of the many ways of breaking yourself in two.)
I hope you remember him, stars...he was important to me (My mother threw that drawing away on my seventh birthday and told me that girls are not supposed to have such dreams.).
He had hair as ebony as deep onyx and a smile that never grew up (Peter Pan would have been proud). He was magic in soul form, and smelled like cinnamon and the earth after it has rained. His eyes rivaled a lions on the best of his youth, his words were story shaped. His skin was an ink coloured canvas of wonder and even in crayon he was a sight of awe.
NaPoWriMo: Day 2sometimes,NaPoWriMo: Day 21 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
i have this
sudden urge to cut
most of the time,
i just wish I were anything
other than me.
a rocket ship, a bird-
the sweet flavored smoke
I promised my girlfriend
these briar patch lungs
would not in.hale.
i have fallen in love
with the strangest of things-
eyes that intimidate
the way my scars
play hide and seek
with her hands. -
the love letters
that start and end
pressed against limbs.
i make promises
i know i can not keep.
but if i were a liar
i would say i was tired
of writing to the stars.
a pen at a knife fight.there is twilight in his breathing.a pen at a knife fight.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
legs like spiders.
eyes of sinking ships,
holding onto the edge with shaking fingertips.
is the water cold?
cold enough to stop air from flowing to his lungs?
auburn hair and a heart too big.
a pen always enclosed in a thoughtful fist.
words spill out one by one,
haunted by ghost nouns and verbs gone wrong.
the thoughts roam from behind his eyes,
make their way down to his spine.
there they hang with poems unread,
while monsters and verses stay trapped in his head.
an empty house can say a lot
of harder times and connections lost.
there he strums a guitar alone,
thinking of the girl he calls his home.
where coffee is brewing,
and they sleep in the same bed.
where together they fight the monsters,
that dwell in their heads.
A Shoe TaleA Shoe Tale1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
Mister Lacey and miss Ribbon were a pair of red shiny shoes living in a boxful of dreams, on cloud-coated linens. One May day, a little girl found them sleeping next to each other, and she loved them so much that she took them out for an afternoon walk, sometimes tituppy, sometimes gingerly, on the sundressed alleys. Mister Lacey and miss Ribbon were cheerful, as they had never breathed such a crisp air before, and the chill of those spring days, after a good sturdy rain, was daintly tickling their soles, growing goosebumps on their skin.
The little girl was bursting with fidgetness. When she stopped to bathe in a tiny oasis, she briskly took off her shoes and left them on the dewy grass. Mister Lacey and miss Ribbon were slightly afraid, as gloomy spiders and frowning mosquitoes were tamelessly rumbling around them. They cuddled tightly, to make the fear go away, like salt in a desert storm. The fear started to vanish itself, as the two realized that they were not alone. They were a p
respiration.i am shipwrecked fever;respiration.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
& she is denied oxygen.
i taste sirens on the shore
of her collarbones,
& salt-licked sea limbs.
but, it's the natural disaster
wrapped around her coral spine
that really has my lungs
NaPoWriMo: Day 10 Have you ever been so cold, Sweetheart,NaPoWriMo: Day 101 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
your knees q u a k e d like that Jenga piece
that buckled just before your whole foundation
& no matter
how many times
I've restarted your heart,
one would think
I'd grow tired,
I'm still writing you in poetry
(in the most inappropriate of places.)
You forced yourself beneath my blades
& my fingertips,
Licking unstable knees,
you were death on my tongue:
angry apricot eyes, unforgivable sin
scaring my limbs &
haunting my dreams.
& I'd still try to save your fucking life.
a confession1. in eleventh grade, our teacher told us disney was fucked up. she showed us some video where all these little girls said they felt bad for belle, but if she had listened to beast, she would be okay. she should let him hit her so they would be okay. so they could get married. but then all i could think of was how i remembered ariel gave up her fins and her voice for some boy. and all i could think of was how fucked up it was i would give my legs up for you, too, like i was used to strapping them to your thighs. that i learned not to speak, but move and wail. and that’s what love was.a confession2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
2. meeting you was kind of like meeting that part of myself i had forgotten. like i’d dropped you when i was walking to class one day. then i came back to you, through the arbor of the rain, soaking wet and on my knees, begging, my hair and eyes a collection of weakness and water. and you were a new kind of jesus, complete with blue jeans and a crooked smile, nailed to the bed, your halo a pil
In absence of a poem.I chewed my pen to the nibIn absence of a poem.2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
and swallowed the ink thoughtlessly,
but no matter how long I thought,
I couldn't say what you mean to me.
I tried, I tried and I tested,
every word in my diminutive range,
but I screwed up more pieces of paper
and happened upon something strange;
I noticed words, which have served me,
for all of my formative years,
had no power to convey my gratitude
for the times that you dried my tears.
Whenever I doubt myself (often),
You're the one who tells me I'm wrong
You lift up my chin and remind me, wait
for the good things that will come along.
I can't find a way to express how
you are the saving grace in my head.
So words can't tell you how I love you -
I hope my silence will tell you instead.
LoveLove is when somebody gives you a shoulder to cry on.Love2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Love is when somebody makes you laugh when you're sad.
Love is when you miss somebody whenever they are gone.
Love is when whenever you see that person you feel glad.
Loving somebody is choosing not to see their flaws.
A human being will never be perfect.
Everything that person does you will give a loud applause.
Cause in your eyes everything that person does is correct.
You want them to smile.
You would work extra just to be with that person.
Even if it would be just for a while.
Love is unconditional, that's the truth.
WhisperI want to create an aromatic sea of jasminesWhisper2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and stardust mountains of silver and —
Inkblot skeletons with paper mache
hearts, whose bones shall burn with one glance at the
sun; gravestones of blood diamonds and tears of thistles...
Harp strings ringing in grotesque harmony, screaming
for slender fingers to pluck and caress with devotion.
I want to write
terminali.terminal2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
we landed in oklahoma
and drank cheap martinis in the terminal;
you carried my guitar and fell in love
with my voice but not my tongue,
not my hands.
there's a man with a garage
that looks like a plane because nothing
meant more to him. will you make a model
of that bar? will you make a model
of my red cheeks? or will you live in a townhome
with her and three children?
the problem was you're not gay.
the problem was there was feeling
but it wasn't for us. i had you but
it wasn't for us.
i'm not sure if i resent you,
but i remember that bar and every pockmark
on the stool you sat on while i played
the song that parted your lips;
you remember every pockmark in oklahoma
like they were ours.
Perfect on PaperWe cut heartsPerfect on Paper1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
into paper to make streams
That was my impression of it.
That you ripped
the pieces you didn't want
until you got something that was
It's no wonder
that I can't believe that someone
would think I was paper-perfect,
6:30:09what i wouldn't give6:30:092 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to have my body sink down
into yours, cocooned
in the tumultuous quicksand
of human flesh.
i have never been so moved
as by your touch, the slinking seeping
brush. the universe dispels
and in the absence of everything,
i am less alone
than i have ever been.
crosswords + dot-to-dots.two a.m,crosswords + dot-to-dots.1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
in your kitchen,
lighting cigarettes on your stove.
i'm thankful for
or your arms wouldn't be
holding me close.
time is as long as
this cigarette will allow -
is here & now.
with each flick
of my wrist,
my eyes do the same -
from your clothes
to your oceanic eyes
to your sunken in face.
i want your taste -
but ashes linger
in my mouth
& your hand headed south
& i guess we were playing
i searched for the words
to fill your
but you searched for
my body's beginning
to connect its dots.
Colours I Never TastedIt is not worth escaping over.Colours I Never Tasted2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
No, sometimes the sun rises lopsided in the horizon and the
clink of glasses against teeth sets irate neurones off in your mind cavity
and fireflies extinguish on car windscreens in rain storms. Sometimes
August drops down into lake reflections and sometimes October never
sends a breeze to whisper into your ears. But they teach you that all of
that is okay, even when you're watching sunflowers writhe towards the
sun with grey blankets over humid-day hair.
There will always be a dawn. Stay awake for it.
You are not truly living until you have breathed.
And by that, I mean, take two feet and place them on the path
or the grass and inhale April. it doesn't matter if it is not April,
imagine the dandelions and the daffodils and the soft bleat of lambs
and that fresh scent rushing past your nose in long car journeys,
the one that tugs your legs onto the map and tells you 'this is home,
all forty thousand kilometres of it'.
The world is your oyster. Be the pear