an ear to lean oni want to edit my sentences
before i even utter them
but you tell me to speak in ink
like i'm a pen and you're the paper,
promising its lines won't judge.
and i don't doubt that,
but spilling my secrets
is like splitting open a sand bag
and it's impossible to accept
that it's okay to overflow ,
and that you'll fight for me.
Declaration of FreedomNo. It's all going to start with that one little word, because maybe the fact that I am being clear and simple like I never am will clue you into the fact that something isn't right here. Something's brewing beneath my skin, and I'm close to letting it out. It's simmering, bustling around inside of me trying to boil, and it's burning me and I'm sick of being burned.Declaration of Freedom5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
No. This is not me speaking out in a little bit of frustration or anger. This is my two-week notice, I am about to quit. This is the red light appearing on the breaker board for a nuclear plant. This is the two-minute warning, and I am about to explode like a war gone wrong. But I've been wronged, and this is like a war, so I suppose that I am not very far off base. You'd better get off of my base it's about to detonate.
No. This is not the temper tantrum of some little girl whose second-grade teacher wouldn't let her go to the bathroom for the fifth time in one day. If it was that, and I was the little girl,
Confessions of a Cutter1. No matter how many times you tell me that you'll never hurt me, I still worry that I'll give you a reason to change your mind.Confessions of a Cutter5 years ago in Emotional More Like This
2. I'm not sure I'll ever know which is uglier: what I cut myself into, or what you do to me that makes me cut.
3. One, two. The third time's the charm. I guess that means no more suicide attempts for me.
4. I once walked the same half-mile track 26 times to keep from cutting. I did anyway.
5. I've gone 63 hours without eating. When I did eat, I was so mad at yself that I shook. I had eaten five baked Lays chips.
6. One of my closest friends uses the phrase 'that's not good enough,' as a reply to things that I do that she wants me to change. I never tell her how much that makes me hate myself for not being her 'good enough.' I know she does it so that I pull myself out of bad places.
7. I'd be your everlasting see-saw counter-balance - the only one that would dare keep you off of the polluted, rat-infested ground.
8. Don't you dare die first. (I'm afraid tha
Believing in PerfectYou called me perfect last night, and IBelieving in Perfect5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
froze like I had never heard a word like
that in my life. Of course, you couldn't have
seen how my eyes got big, and how she
turned to look at me like I had lost a little bit
more of my mind probably true, since my lips
had stopped moving in the middle of some sentence
that should have meant a lot, and should have
been much more important than a few black
words spilled across the tiny screen of a cell phone,
like coffee rinds dumped onto the counter-tops that
only got installed yesterday, or the glass of paint-water
that I kicked over onto my carpet this morning.
What the hell is perfect, and since when did I
do a single thing that could ever put me into a
category that would even begin to cover
perfect? When have my words ever shined or
glimmered, or reached out like those little air-touches
I swear run along my shoulders? When has my scarred
hand ever sat on your shoulder like a smile trailing
behind stitched shoes, threatenin
Paper Cuts Can Be Miles Deep(I felt like a little cheat when I noticed yours before you read my piece. It felt wrong to know of yours, and not have it the other way around. Sisters and once-sisters won't hurt another, right? Proven wrong before, but this might be different. I screamed at myself to keep these traitor lips shut, but they opened and spilled out like a pillow cut and ripped - once the feathers have scattered, there is no way to find each and every one again.)Paper Cuts Can Be Miles Deep5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
It's the secret
that did not keep itself
from my lips,
and now it is sitting
and I find that I'm asking myself
how long it will take
until it spills.
(Somehow I know it won't. I hope. I trust. I tell myself you are not them, and that even though the words you picked to tell me that you won't hurt me are the same ones they used, I convince myself that your words won't hurt me like theirs did - that you won't hurt me.)
You noticed the few words
that spelled me out like a book
written in your perfect language,
and I cou
Not A Poem At AllI'm not writing in words tonight - no, this timeNot A Poem At All5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I'll write in little glimpses of images like watching
the clock from across the room, then looking away
before Time can realize how closely I am studying him.
This time, it will be about the way that there
is still a milky print of frosted-rose lip gloss
around the rim of a glass that held only apple
cider - not Cap'n or Coke, or even perfectly clear
water. This one will be about the way that
the bracelets I make dangle around the wrists
of both new friends and old, glinting patterns that
but four of my fingers dared to memorize, all ten too
scattered to pick the right sequence of shades and
string them - no mistakes allowed, or the whole piece
must be undone - not the same anymore.
These fingers don't dance a slow, melodic song like
those rhythms played oh-so-repetitively at high school
dances, but tip-tap a back-and-forth sound that
cannot be repeated, with pauses not for breath or
for emotions to seep through. These ten are the parts
Running in ReverseYou're standing at the finish line,Running in Reverse3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
watching saccharine snowflakes settling
on the ground in front of you,
sweetening it as if it were the black coffee
you couldn't bring yourself to drink.
What's beneath it?
You aren't sure, but your feet are bare
and your fingers are frozen
and you find yourself terrified
that if you step forward you'll be cut,
so you fall backwards one step, two,
and soon you're chasing the clock,
trying to convince it to chime in reverse,
so you can run a race against yourself
back to the starting line,
just to see how fast you can go.
Before you realize it,
you're at the beginning looking ahead,
but it blends with the finish line view,
frozen, forbidden, forlorn
you're fighting to forget about the landscape
you've come to know as familiar,
because the quivers of your calves feels like failure;
they refuse to resume running between the two
like a train on its track going forth and back,
so you sidestep onto the subgrade and make your own path,
Rotted"I want to taste you."Rotted4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
But don't you know
I'm sour? Like a lemon
with an extra dose
of acid added, enough kick
to take your taste buds
and gums and burn them
bright red and raw,
Would you be happy then?
I'm the rotten Clementine
that came in the bottom
of the box that you threw away.
I'm the one who finally
who cracked the mold,
who thought outside of the box
and actually managed
to get myself out of the box,
though I went straight into the trash.
Which is better?
Should I let you throw me away,
and take my chances
with the rest of the trash,
or should I climb back out
and perch myself
on the counter, in your view,
and pray you don't notice me?
I'm the due-date-overdone
gallon of milk sitting
in the very back of your fridge,
with only a sip or two left in me,
but turned from a beautifully
perfect white to a yellow
that's thick and lumpy
unwanted, no doubt about it.
When you do finally decide
to get rid of me, I bet you won't
have the guts to take me
and simply dump me
Up From Last Place"Just kidding! Just kidding! I'm kidding! No, no stop!" Ty Lee squealed as the Princess' icy hands grabbed her around the waist and held her still.Up From Last Place5 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
"Oh, you were, hmm?" The firebender leaned into the acrobat's ear with a smirk playing on her lips. "Maybe if you're quiet," Azula grinned, "I'll stop." Ty Lee glanced up at her with wide eyes as the younger girls' sharp fingernails were slowly dragged in criss-cross patterns across the acrobats now exposed sides, making her jerk.
"Be still," the Princess breathed in her ear, though not stopping her hands. She smiled as Ty Lee's eyes closed tightly and her sides quivered as she fought her flight instinct.
"You win, you win, you win!" She squealed finally.
'What's that? You want to win?" the firebender teased, not stopping.
"Azula, you win!" The acrobat squirmed in the Princess' grasp, ripping herself away when the other girl stopped. She then let herself fall onto the oversized bed. Azula followed, sitting with her legs elegantly curled ben
Seventeen-Word TearsYou spin these twenty-six alphabet lettersSeventeen-Word Tears4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
around in circles and lines
that make my eyes drip down salt lines,
and the circles of my eyes close, quiet.
The combinations dance from your fingertips
onto paper and screen,
spinning stories and memories,
questions and I-need-help-with's,
making my chest ache like panic attacks -
my ten fingers stutter out responses,
hiding the drops behind ellipses and dashes,
hiding the why-don't-you-understand's?
You send your love in seventeen word blocks
that make me shake in misunderstanding and confusion -
they remind me of plastic fruit not meant for teeth,
but that I have eaten and enjoyed.
Your lock must be a hard one to pick,
because all of the combinations
I have spilled in the past five years
from the pen of a writer
never have made it open,
but I have watched it crack
time and time again -
but my vision was blurred as always,
and the numbers were made into black-on-silver circles
that my eyes never could catch.
I've wondered how many pla
To Write LoveShe does it,To Write Love5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
She doesn't want to.
She feels like she needs to.
Its compulsive, addictive.
Just another part of the day.
But its not. It shouldn't be.
Oh, look what she's done.
The skin is marred,
See those purple marks?
All the way up to the elbow.
How far will this go?
Don't you know,
Its really a cry.
All she wants is help.
All she wants
Is for someone
To reach out to her.
To ask her if she is okay.
Are you okay?
She's not okay.
She is slowly dying.
In the dark corners of her bedroom,
She is quietly crying.
Shh.. it'll be okay
Is anyone listening?
Can't anyone see?
Although not with her lips.
It is silent.
She is pleading.
She doesn't want
To slowly waste away
She wants you to take her
Into the circle of your comforting arms,
And use them in turn
To Write Love On Her Arms.
Some Nights Are Better ForgottenLet me slam into the linoleum Some Nights Are Better Forgotten3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
allow the tiled wall to leave lines behind
that will blossom into bruises on my skin.
I want to feel your five-fingered strikes
caress my cheekbones like the sick love story
of disaster and self-destruction I've created
by downing one too many drinks.
It's a relief to be marred
with a mark made by a hand
other than my own.
I don't think I ever admitted to you
how your handprint hovered on my skin
in sickening harlequin and hunter greens
I imagined it appropriate to mask it with my make-up
and use foundation to build my smiles in the morning.
Memorizing the BlursI can't keep my eyes open anymore. IgnoranceMemorizing the Blurs5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
has been said to be bliss, and I wish that my
vision would blur. I unfocus my eyes, and instead
of watching the expressions play loud and clear
on your face, I only watch the shadows as they
drift and flit across your lips and eyes, while your
mouth moves, telling stories that I fight to keep up
with and memorize.
How I Learned to FallOf everything I remember theHow I Learned to Fall5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
grate of grains, dirt, and rocks
in my knees after one more
careless mistake. A stumble,
a trip, a slip it didn't matter. I was
down. And I was alone vulnerable.
I didn't know how to take it. I stood,
and vowed never to fall again, and I tried
to forget how the blood from my mistake
bled out into the dust and dirt, letting
it run away from me like I had
tried to do to them, times before.
It was inevitable that I would fall
again and again, no matter how close I
walked to the grass, or how slow, the
sidewalk would always catch up to
Then you came along. And with
your strong arms I felt I knew, you
pulled me to my feet, and whispered me
words of encouragement, but then you
pushed me. I hit the ground once more, but
this time your hand was waiting to help
me up. We repeated it over and over, and
though my knees were as torn as ever, somehow
the sidewalk didn't terrify me any longer.
That was the summer I learned how to fall, and
you were the
the kind of destruction only i deserve.i'm sitting on a throne of thread spoolsthe kind of destruction only i deserve.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
with technicolor knots wound around my wrists,
and i thought it would be enough to hold me together.
i am weak - thread-lines etched into my skin
because i always tie myself too tight,
convinced that if i add an inch,
i'll melt between cotton molecules, liquefied.
and i figured that i'd finally gotten it right;
between the bulges of my skin and bindings,
i'd managed to shut myself up, and shut you out.
i even installed double-paned glass into every window
so that if the wind ever came to welcome me home,
i wouldn't have to chatter my teeth,
like I was pretending to converse.
it wasn't enough.
i smashed the windows and snapped all of the spools
and tore every single thread away with their shards
i created a whirlwind with my skin and my sin
and this time i don't deserve to be saved.
La Belle DanseI can't dance with you any longer, love. I've learned a million dances and ten million steps for you, but what good are hours and years of practice after long practice, when you are faint, and beginning to fade?La Belle Danse5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
My feet are long numb, and my ankles are bruised, throbbing from one too many falls I've endured to make myself perfect for you I never succeeded. My minuet is far too choppy to pass for la belle dance and my baroque is tired and listless, the smiling Comedy mask long-since faded to the groans of the Tragedy mask. Will I always be forced to mask myself, love?
The music that cues me will not let me alone. It echoes about these four walls, and I respond to it automatically. I will always try to be as perfect as possible for you, love. You seem to glide across the floor effortlessly, following impossibly complicated matrices of steps and slides as if they are no more than child's play to you, a simple four-step dance to a lifelong dancer. Am I just child's pla
On My LipsWords on your lips,On My Lips4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
my lips -
the way you sit,
how your lips split.
Tears trailing my eyes
like I'm torn,
one big lie, baked,
too real to die,
too deep to seal.
I'm a broken seal -
the peel you threw away,
the straw you're breathing through,
the alleys you cut through,
the cuts that cut you,
the ones that say you're too few,
too little, so brittle.
I'll be your attorney to promise
acquittal, peddle you freedom
then pedal away with you,
leaving thumbs behind to twiddle,
smiles between that no one has seen,
twirling across my skin,
making your split lips grin.
Monday afternoonsmonday afternoons whenMonday afternoons4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the backs of my eyes are splattered with rain and other substances
my tears aren't for you, but because
i can't remember the colour of your eyes.
the way our hands were made for each other sent mercury through my veins,
steel cold mercury bright as blood,
brighter than love
i never asked you if you knew that mercury thermometers were
[either way, i'm past boiling point.]
you told me i was beautiful
and i don't cry because of those words,
i cry because i believed them.
the porcelain is cold and unforgiving and hard
harder than glass
than my heart
and the ripples are evenly spaced,
even now, i can't remember the colour of those eyes.
Heavy Rain to Heal MeThe rain falls heavy, and I want to run from here and submerge myself in it, and never look back. These heavy shoes want to be flung far from my feet (never to be seen again), and these sodden black clothes want to be ripped from my flushed skin, and thrown back inside, where the rain can never touch. Scarred skin is bare in the rain, and that rain, no matter how hard it crashes into my skin, or how many times it makes me jump from the unexpected sting, will never judge me for those telltale ridges.Heavy Rain to Heal Me5 years ago in Emotional More Like This
It is like a second home I wish I could run to, and stay for so much longer than a little fling or a power-outage no, I'd stay until the atmosphere gave, and rain was no longer possible, and the Earth dried up under the oppressive sun I once loved to watch dance with my well-loved rain, and make such perfect colors...
Those little rainbows that form are just like the rain itself misunderstood. Little droplets of perfect water hit the ground and are marred dirty, grainy. The ig
Don't Touch My LoveDon't kill my Love,Don't Touch My Love5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Strange spirit of the Darkness.
Let me live at least this time.
I can smell your black wings waiting for my soul.
I can hear ur whispers
getting me confused,
full of blood,
full of lies.
I hate every word you say about me
I hate every time you appear behind my thoughts.
I'm not that strong.
I'm not that good.I know...I know.
But I won't allow you touch my Love,
my lil piece of Heaven.
She doesn't deserve suffering like I do.
She's so nice, she's so cute
She is the moon kissing my nights.
She is the sun around me.
Don't touch her.
If you paint her smile in black.
I'll go for you from my weakness
and I'll steal the wings of an angel
and will take the sword of my justice
and your head will be mine
and your wings won't fly
cause I'll have your black heart in my hand
and nobody will cry again.
The day of my innocence will never go back like you said,
but my Love will be free
even if I die
even if I live.
the strangermy wrists were throbbing because youthe stranger5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
were making my heart beat fast.
i felt the cuts open, little red mouths yawning slowly.
they started to sob red tears again
and i thanked god that i was wearing a black
you were a man, but you weren't very tall
and you weren't very broad.
you were wearing a long coat that almost
skimmed the gum-studded pavement.
i could hear it swishing and it tickled the
back of my head from the inside.
you had shaggy brown hair and a kind,
weathered face, wrinkles by your eyes,
lips that looked made for smiling.
and then, as we passed, you did smile
and i felt it cut through me, turn me translucent
i felt my heart open up like a flower to you,
a rose, not red, but white
because i am so bloodless and i am so cold.
you could see my little red yawners and you didn't
laugh, or call me emo, or slap me the way my mother
had done when she walked in on me in the bathroom.
you looked sad, worried
worried... about me?
i caught your scent
To find the circle? Dig.Let's put it this way: I'm just not worth it. You saved my life. Now I'm counting down the minutes until the bright star of insight shoots through your sky and you realize that I wasn't worth your trouble, that I wasn't worth your time. (And that's when I'll fall [again (harder) that] ever).To find the circle? Dig.5 years ago in Emotional More Like This
My veins are you: unblemished, beautiful. Daydreams and semi-audible lullabies. But the scars around them, the blood lapping at my ankles, the raw-red marks all over my arm and thighs-- those are me. Hurt and frightening and pathetic and maladaptive and ugly and useless and fucked up and ephemeral, because sure, there'll always be a mark, but those scars are going to fade. [And so will I.]
I'm just so afraid afraid afraid afraid of a relapse.
Across the SpectrumYour words tumbled out,Across the Spectrum4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and I couldn't catch them
between your breaths,
but settled for holding you close
for a moment,
a hand across your back
to still the shaking,
and open my ears to combine
the syllables you spoke into words
I could understand.
I don't even want to think
about any of it.
I'm just such a fuck-up.
I wouldn't ever dare tell you
how or what to think,
but as clear as you've spelled out
to me that I'm not always wrong,
and not always the one at fault,
I want to play off of your words:
you did nothing wrong,
taking and repeating them to you
until you could think them true.
Maybe I'd even write it out,
twisting my own spin into it,
taking all of the things
I love about you and putting them
together on a once-white
sheet of paper and covering it with words
in colors all across the spectrum
ones you've never seen from me,
in the hope that maybe
you could read them as truths,
like you aren't a fuck-up
and never have been.
I once wrot
My Protector, My Sister"Just think of it as a vocal diary, and be yourself. Don't worry about length - and feel free to give as much background as you want." I shut my eyes, and as I heard the familiar noise of the tape clicking on, I began to speak.My Protector, My Sister5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"When I was four and she was seven, Emma, my sister, plopped me on top of her pink and baby blue two wheel bike, put one hand on my back, and pushed me down the long dirt hill behind our house. There wasn't anything to do but put my feet on the pedals and pedal - it had never occurred to me to try to pedal backwards and stop myself. Eventually, I stopped. Well, actually, I crashed into the neighbor's car, and broke my right arm in two places.
I let my head rest back on the grass, and I remember thinking what a nice pillow it was. The pain hadn't quite set in yet, and somehow I knew that the more I showed that I was hurt, the worse Emma would feel. I opened my eyes, and through my upside-down vision, I watched her run towards me, and then she was right-side up ag
You are YouI see you sitting thereYou are You4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Alone with the voices
I can hear them too
How they tell you its not okay
And how the world is against you
Don't listen to them
Please my cherub
Ignore those sweet lies
I promise you its not true
Come and let me hold your hand
Lets take away the pills,
Flush down the alcohol
So you can breathe
And let you think
Now lets clean up this mess
My darling, this isn't needed
For you are loved
By many and more to come
You are gorgeous
And flawed to perfection
You are simply human
And must remember that
You are a survivor
Powerful and strong.
and not your illness
You are more than a victim
You are more than just a girl
More than just the color of your skin
You are original
From every scar and curve
You are You