VaseA broken heart can be excavated.Vase2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Damaged tissue can be scrupulously removed
and the cracks can be sealed
with the molten trails of gold solidified.
The upturned cavity,
once proofed against further damage,
can become a pulsing vase for tulips,
because even though your heart has been broken
it is still valuable beyond comparison.
NaPoWriMo- Day 5She used to try and catch butterfliesNaPoWriMo- Day 52 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
until she realized their beauty
rubbed off on her fingers;
but she will always be loving you
with those digits.
20 years from now
when even the love on her arms
NaPoWriMo: Day 7Watch out.NaPoWriMo: Day 72 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
She’s a devil,
Glad for her spine,
& her teeth,
even God hands fear her.
For she has arched her back
for a flower-woman
with sin dripping
from her fingers
-who taught her
how to laugh
like the stars.
NaPoWriMo: Day 6It’s hard enoughNaPoWriMo: Day 62 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to love her skin on good days,
to wide eyed strangers
as if to fill the emptiness
in her own gut;
she lives on a diet of sad stories &
you must shed your own skin
to save it.]
Losing my BreathIt's 2amLosing my Breath2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and the calling birds
are hatching in my heart,
I feel it crack and they emerge.
Feel them drilling on my ribs,
the steady anxious thrum
of a flight risk
waiting to happen.
and I can't breathe,
memories of you
are nesting in my throat
I can't work around them.
It's cutting off the circulation,
and my frantic heart
tries to keep on.
and tears scratch their directions
into my cheeks,
they flounder and meander
and they erode.
My skin and soul is scraped down
layer by layer
and another day is heralded
by the angry flutterings in my chest.
I try to swallow my pride,
dam the tears
and crawl through the dark again.
Coughing up blood
and inhaling iron filings
(The remainder of
what used to be my life).
WallpaperShe leaves the window to let the rain in. She watches the lazy river form and fall, seeping into the designer wallpaper and staining it. She watched the rain tug at the seams of the walls and imagined the room coming undone around her. She imagined the ceiling caving in and crushing her. She lay still and watched the rain fall. She lay still and tried not to breathe, to burn, to break.Wallpaper2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
HatredYou are a hemorrhage. You are the violent implosion of my blood under my skin that makes it itch like I am morphine-high. You are my blood seeping from arteries into artillery and shooting holes through my over-ripened heart. You are the snarl on my lip and scars across my forearms that burst open when I over reach my capabilities. You are the writhing groaning dying beast in my ribbed cage that aches for a kill. If I released you, you would snap my neck and watch me spurt out the only truth between us; my blood. You are venom and sap, holding my structure together from otherwise limp apathy but nonetheless you are poison, and how I hate you, hatred.Hatred2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I Didn't Hear YouWhen you say goodbye to me - said goodbye to me. I didn't hear you. I didn't really consider the tangible loss of us. I was busy. Because in my mind I was hearing years worth of goodbyes, that run in a steady loop of vinyl to make the white noise soundtrack to my tears. I was busy listening.I Didn't Hear You2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
You left me for a logical and reasonable reason. I'll never understand it. I'll never really process what your goodbye meant or how it was intended. It was lost on me. I was busy. Because in my mind I was listing all the reasons that I told myself you would eventually leave me over. It was the hummingbird heart of our relationship that behind what I would say, there was what I thought. Two very different things.
Underneath a less than gracious acceptance of you moving on, there are cracks so wide that the substance that the cracks are between becomes the cracks in the emptiness. My head is empty space with slithers of pain far and few between.
But on those cliff blades that make up the terra
Pursuing my happinessPursuing my happiness2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I can feel the rubble beneath my feet
My eyes are clouded with a fog that restricts me from seeing
For now I feel blind, but from a distance I see a shining figure
Though I seem to be in a malevolent environment, I don’t feel like fleeing
With each step I take, the rubble pierces my feet
Though the pain is sorrowful, faith strengthens my heart
I know I won’t be disappointed with finding someone who shines in the dark
All of this will be worth it; this will be where my happiness starts
NaPoWriMo: Day 4I might have a scrappers knees,NaPoWriMo: Day 42 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
wildflowers growing on my knuckles,
& I might remind you of every nasty thing
you ever did,
but I don’t see you in my mirror.
I just have the right
to hate my own face.
I think this hitchhiker’s heart
is breaking &
I don’t have the medical skill-
or the time
to suture the pieces
back together again.
I BelieveIt's December 21st, 2012 in Montreal.I Believe2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
First thing in the morning,
I look outside my bedroom window and it's snowing.
WAIT – NO!
It's raining again.
It's kind of like this city's friend died,
And it can't decide if it should give the cold shoulder
Or if it should cry.
Walking down the street today is like walking across a beach during summer vacation.
Except the water is sub zero,
And every now and again you'll have white petals knocking on your head,
As if it wants to tell you something.
Our cities are changing.
Not just my home town of Montreal.
A Hurricane reached New York only 2 months ago.
A feat undefeated.
Our cities are heating. Screw whoever says global warming is a myth.
I don't need money hungry politicians telling me what to believe
So that they can continue to throw trash into the ocean
Nonexistent PerfectionShe dreams of perfectionNonexistent Perfection3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The perfect guy, sitting next to her
His perfect smile, shining down at her
His perfect arms, wrapped around her
His perfect voice, soothing as he speaks
His perfect everything, perfectly with her
His words gentle, loving, genuine
He would never lie to her.
He would never cheat on her.
He would never hurt her.
He would never stop talking to her.
He's perfect, remember?
She sits alone
Hurt, indecisive, and unknowing
Of why this dream can't be real.
She waits by herself for something to happen.
Nothing ever does.
She has been hurt.
Hurt by her own imagination.
To the girl I will one day loveTo the girl I will one day love2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I await your arrival with open arms and open heart, an empty box awaiting a loved one's present. I wish I know how I will meet you, to see you for the first time and know that you are the one; the one I desire, the one I want, and the one who will want me in return.
I desire to see your beautiful figure; your eyes the colour of the deepest oceans, the green of the leaves of trees or the hazelnut upon those very same branches; your hair the softest silk, shining like polished copper, gold or obsidian; your skin, the colour of morning snow in the Alps, the sand on the beach in the summer afternoon, or the richest and smoothest of chocolates, crafted with perfection.
I want to know you like no other person; I want to be there when you're feeling low, to be by your side when you're joy is as unlimited as the universe itself; I want to see the wide world with you, side by side, finding our place upon this globe; I want to laugh with you, cry with you, smile with you, be with yo
Got The Time Mister?Life is short. A hundred years sounds mammothian. It swells in your mouth and tumbles heavily off the tongue. A hundred years. It deceives us, life is short. Life is too short to accept sadness. To resign yourself to misery. Sometimes these things happen to us, and that is alright, but to choose to cloak ourselves with chain-mail before swimming in the lake at twilight... well. Life is short.Got The Time Mister?2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Life is too short to hate your job, you only get one shot at this experience of the universe (even if you believe in reincarnation you will never be this person again). Life is too short to accept friends, lovers or family who damage you, in any manner. You may not think very highly of yourself but you are all you have and it's okay to protect your most valuable asset: your life.
Life is not long enough to let people abuse your trust, lie, cheat or steal from you. It is not long enough to feel guilty when you do something wrong, but there is plenty of time to take a moment to consider all the thin
My Greatest PassionMany people think that writing is as simple as putting words on paper or on a screen. They think, "all I have to do is think of some words, and write them down." But to a true writer, to a true author, it's so much more than that.My Greatest Passion2 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
Even here on dA, many people seem to pass by literature deviations as if they're not worth the time. They don't feel like taking a few minutes to read the stories, poems, and fan-fictions, for some reason. Do they not think it's really art? Do they think that written works shouldn't be on an art site, and therefore they needn't waste their time on them? Or is it just laziness? Possibly, all of the above. Or none.
But regardless of what anyone else thinks, I know how I feel, and surely, how many other true writers feel. The things we write and post here, or anywhere, really, are like our children. They mean everything to us, because we created them with love and devotion, and tried our best to make them the best they can be. All we want is for them to be recog
Chills Skeleton fingersChills2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A Rant Letter About Phobias (Sexuality)Dear Homophobics, Biphobics, Hetrophobics and anyone else who judges people for their sexual orientation,A Rant Letter About Phobias (Sexuality)2 years ago in Letters More Like This
First of all, you don't have an irrational fear of the sexuality. You have in irrational and narrow-minded hatred for them. You might hate them just because you don't understand their choices or sexuality. But don't think that's an excuse to be a horrible human being. Do your research! Goddammit! If you don't like the actual person then OK, maybe they are not nice, but if you hate someone of just their sexual orientation then you are a weak small human being.That is immature and that is bullshit. They might be nice people for all you know. You don't even get to know them before calling a perfectly normal human being: "Greedy", "Faggot" "queer" (Etc). I don't understand, where does all of this hate come from? It is ridiculous! How would you feel? Maybe you were bullied too. How did that work out for you? Some people might be confused about their sexuality already and the last thing
'metaphorically speaking'you're tumbling with me through a sea of cloth'metaphorically speaking'2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and our bodies are waves crashing into one another.
lips crushing together, our waists whisper their longings.
tracing your collarbones with kisses,
i giggle, you shiver, you smile.
you're atop a forest and i'm down in the valleys.
grasping the arch of my back, your fingers like torches,
i shiver, you giggle, we moan.
i'm tumbling with you through a field of skin
and our bodies are blades of grass slightly licking each other
when the wind blows over and through us.
Bone child,this December's winterBone child,2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
has your ribs cocooned with
mine. & this wander(lust) heart
will sustain warmth for the both of us.
The Fears - WIPWhat do I fear, with the end of the world hovering behind my back? Triteness. Irrelevance. The every day unbearable things. That is what I fear.The Fears - WIP2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Waking up and writing for the sake of being heard, rather than for the sake of saying something. Forgetting to mean what I say and say what I mean. These are the whispers that hide in the corners of my room as I sleep. These are the fears.
what they didn't tell mei was three when i looked up into thewhat they didn't tell me2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
saw the stars.
those lights twinkled at me,
told me their names &
they showed me how to tie knots,
taught me how to dance, &
how to appreciate something when you thought you
draco said he never looked away,
but he must have because
i was pushed.
i fell and not even pegasus could catch me.
they never told me how to love,
but maybe they don’t know quite what it means
to be star-crossed.
Of Nuisance LeavesHear me read it!Of Nuisance Leaves2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Leaves clutch their ropy fingers around the tree's limbs. The zesty leeches bloom, crack open overnight and slip silently up the nearest oak or maple. They pierce the crunch of bark and penetrate deep into the rubbery veins.
They feed. They pauperize plum and peach until they are heavy and brown; heavy laden with the stolen sap.
When at last they reach their fill the tree can finally shake them off emphatically, desperately, until at last it is clean again. The tree reaches its black bones to the sky in praise and as a new year begins vows never again to be the victim of leaves.