Coffee-Stained LetterDear Stranger,Coffee-Stained Letter4 years ago in Letters More Like This
You don't know me. And I don't know you. Maybe it's better that way. But then again, maybe we would be happier if we did know each other.
Right now, I'm sitting at my desk, with the sunlight streaming in the window, writing this letter for you. Hopefully I'll finish it by tonight, so that tomorrow I can take it to the coffee shop on the corner and drop it on the floor, or in your lap, or maybe in the lap of the person next to you so they can give it to you...because they don't seem like the type to read it, so they'll obviously just pass it on.
I like music - except terrible rap. And I love the written word more than most, it baffles some of my friends sometimes. I wonder, do you like to read? I have the tiniest tattoo I've ever seen, it's a tiny fairy on my ankle, but you can't see her unless you're looking for her and know where to look...like a real fairy, they're good at hiding too you know. I saw a fairy once. She was hiding behind the strawberries in my garden. I t
Ink-Scarred FingertipsYour tears are beautiful; licking your cheeks like little shards of lightbulb glass as you claw at your face with ink-scarred fingertips. Grimace like the behind-the-scenes of a sleepy lullaby as tiny rubies caress the hollows in your face.Ink-Scarred Fingertips5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The dawn is coming dearest, and the glittering halo reflecting off the sapphire and turquoise in the bay will turn the gemstones dripping from your jawline to Pegasi, and he'll scoop you up and take you up above the nightmares and sorrow where they can't reach your trailing dreams.
Ribbons flow behind you as rivulets fall from your hazy breath, drizzling sugar across the sweet-stained clouds. Little crystals of amethyst and diamond, nestling in the down of the cushions of the heavens.
The tiniest of droplets whets your appetite for rain so that you can dance in a spider-woven ballgown when your dearest darling envelops you in arms formed of cloud-dust and love's breath.
Little words of love flow from between your thinly-boned fingers fluttering acro
Run-Out-of-Time Lovevelveteen rubies, opalescent in shape, they fall from their setting as they wither and flake.Run-Out-of-Time Love5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
what dear, just roses,
not gleaming nor clear,
but precious my dear.
why love, they're like love,
prickly and soft love
thorned love and loved love
but love nonetheless
now love, here's my love
to keep to your heart
will i have your love?
dear sweet, my sweet sweet
sweet love on your sleeve
this love like a dream
is it bittersweet?
so love, where's my love
that love that was sworn
don't say it's been torn
so love, 'twas bad love
broken apart love
sad love, unloved love
choked love, death-blow love
you say you'll love me forever. but tell me, my sweet, what happens when forever runs out of time?
Apple's BreathI want to sing to the starsApple's Breath5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
To brush your lips with hazy breath
Quickening as it mingles
Mingles with your too-sweet breath
There are diamonds in the sky, and they say that diamonds are a girl's best friend. They don't know the meaning of friendship. You once told me that your best friend was a Harlequin Great Dane named Cookies and Cream - but Cookie for short - who was graceful as he was huge, huge as he was kind, and kind as our love was strong. You blushed when you said that.
I wondered why you said that, when the scent of fallen apples hung in the air, staining it and tainting it a sweet shade of honeysuckle red; and the sky was a pale baby blue fading into violet and red. Your skin was ivory, and I thought of the milky white that Cookie's fur was sure to be; you would surely mold into one another with shared embraces on a soft warm hearth.
There was something dancing in your eyes at dusk that night, something purely other and different to your usual shyness.
Copper and Umber Rice-PaperYou're hiding in plain sight on your little island of blown-away copper and umber rice-paper.Copper and Umber Rice-Paper5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
That's the sound of your overhanging branches drooping
Hiding from the NightmaresI'm sipping caffeine, trying to stay awake that little longer, just to stay away from the nightmares.Hiding from the Nightmares5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
You know the ones, the ones that wake you with piercing screams and leave you marked with bruises as you gently shake me awake and I take an eternity to come alive.
I'm sorry, so very sorry, that your once pale flesh is violet and your face is raked with burgundy. Despite your ravaged features, you still come in every night to soothe me, to kiss the tears away as if they are precious pearls, to wipe the crystalline mask from my face, to caress the violent quivers from my fragile body.
You always tell me that if you could, you would take the horrors away, and I sadly tell you I wouldn't be strong enough to see you shattered and glistening like that. But you say that I'm stronger than anyone, else the fear would strangle me.
Every single night I lie trembling in your arms, amazed at how you are never choked by the fear weighing down the air around us. I wonder if you see the shadows prow
in the middle of a gun fightoh mother, i am not even the perfect imperfect that good men fall in love with. i am the imperfect scabbing on wrists and stuck under school desks that is fantasized in the minds of ex-bad boys who still love murder.in the middle of a gun fight5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
mother i am losing myself, pulling my eyelids shut pullingthemshutshuttingthemi'mshutting and when i open my fists they are full of wishes that i will blow. i am screeching my throat apart for help, 'cause i don't know when i'll be back again, dear god, will i be back again?
like every other greedy man, this god, writing his name on everything. good men tell me god is good and he is lenient and that faith is love so we should make it. oh mother, will i be renamed some day, or is god going to throw me away?
i am i am losing myself,
i am still in love with murder, will they hang me, mother? how much farther will i fall, will i finally touch the ground, will the momentum stretch me tall?
my bones are rattling like when i slam against the walls, oh mother, my hands are
Dear You, Nee: MyselfDear You (Nee: Myself);Dear You, Nee: Myself5 years ago in Letters More Like This
Sometimes when I am hazy (See: Unconscious) and out of my mind I think back to those tumultuous days when barefoot was mandatory and dress pants were for old people - I'd laugh, but I wear shoes now to cover my feet, cracked from years of wandering down the same path, and dress pants to present a respectable front for society, that very same one which together we would shun from an alley while sipping cheap beer directly from the bottle, pretending it was wine in a silver goblet, keeping a lazy eye out for the police.
I don't know where we went wrong, where we separated and flew in opposite directions like birds scattered . My fingers lay unmoving on this keyboard as I try to come up with words to express my greatest sympathies for killing you, nothing seems to be acceptable. Nothing seems quite right. What do you say to somebody who's life you took - I am sorry, I am remorseful, I would do it a
Sepsismy love for youSepsis5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
has escaped my heart;
it has spread through the
maze of capillaries and veins,
into the arteries.
has flooded my brain;
it has inhibited all
rationality, and fogged
it has taken unwelcome
refuge in my lungs;
burning in my breath,
devouring the oxygen
sucked past dry lips.
my love for you has gone
(the doctors say they cannot
clean my polluted blood,
because the infection festers
in my heart.)
BarriersBarriers up around my mindBarriers5 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Loved ones say to show my desire
Those who wish payment in kind
Will stare with ice, and speak with fire
I do not know what is the matter
I do not know, I cannot say
Will I become mad as a hatter
When I will tell not anyone
The barriers encroach my mind
Surround me, block out everything
Hiding me from all the stares, the glares
Linked to what I've done, but not done
The Last Lily BurnedThere are petals littering the ash wood surrounding a solitary sheaf of paper that is riddled with the ashes and bullet holes from the silver sparks in the air around you. Your caramel arms are scarred with the burn marks of years gone by as you clutch at the last few lilies left in this once mysterious garden.The Last Lily Burned4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The maze that once held you safely, securely in its grasp now mourns the loss of your innocence and your slow discovery of the fire outside the leafy walls of your fortress.
The blackened scars tattooed across your skin all have names and word engraved in them, every one a tribute to those that whispered dreams in your ear and ran lit matches across your skin, tracing lace patterns ever less painfully through the scorches that moulded themselves to your flesh.
They drew you around them like a moth to flame until you didn't remember the scent of frangipani and jasmine that used to peer from behind soft evergreens and stubbly little branches drowned in mud.
You learned of fire but
Common Human CourtesyDo you crave to know whyCommon Human Courtesy5 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
I strongly believe you're a monster?
Mind, your bulk is not comforting.
You're not the fluffy fanged type
that are scored by Karen O,
the species that just require a soothing
encouragement session with Oprah.
You're of the putrid, drippy variety,
the invertebrates with multiple tentacles.
The sort aristocratic cities employ
to keep their sewers fresh,
unpolluted and goblin-free.
Because procedures that are
common human courtesy,
operations the collective subconscious
subtly commands us to bear in mind, such as:
schlepping around a person's luggage
you've recently gathered from an airport, or
surrendering the passenger's side seat
to someone who's nine inches taller, or
offering condolences when news is shared
regarding a death in the immediate family,
never worm their way into your strangulated,
preening, completely self-obsessed mind.
However, if you truly are a monster,
then logically you shouldn't be real.
If you aren't a legitimate life form
(which I'm pret
Same Heart, Different ChestThe silence in his armsSame Heart, Different Chest5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
spoke all the words
between a thousand years
He told me:
"You could not have forgotten my face."
I am spray painting black doves
on the bellies of his walls,
but his walls were made of paper.
They folded and withered
as paint kissed cardboard barriers;
sleep would have taken me
if invisible entities
didn't pry my eyes awake.
In return, he made the galaxies
churning in my lungs rearrange,
and sideswipe into my heart.
Sixty-four years is too long
for anyone to hold their breath.
Lessons in Lovei.Lessons in Love5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
She taught him how to skip rocks across the pond when they were 5. She gently grabbed his hand and showed him how to flick his wrist to make the pebble just skim the surface repeatedly. He claims that was the day she skimmed his heart and started fidgeting her way inside it.
He taught her how to speak pig latin when they were 8. She never understood it and he never understood her and they both thought the whole thing was pointless, but she wanted to fit in. He told her he liked how she stood out and the fact she wasn't generic and that she didn't need to try and impress anyone. She was only trying to impress him and she already had but she didn't know that. They created their own language that everyone else would want to learn but they wouldn't let them and they called it complete because their words together were all they needed.
She taught him about sunsets when they were 10. His parents let him spend the night at her house once and they snuck out and crawled onto the roo
blued veins.such a pretty boy [he's beautiful], but amongst all that prettiness, he doesn't understand. so fragile. just a brittle frame. translucent, as he stood by the window. she hovers behind, unwilling to break him further.blued veins.5 years ago in Teen More Like This
"you never told me why."
she waits for more.
"i don't understand. how can you think it's right for you when it's hurt you so much?"
he's not done.
"i walked away from you, so you'll never walk away from me. i couldn't imagine the hurt i gave you."
veins on his clenched wrists look so blue [like his eyes]. as she stays quiet, she examined his profile. how can something so painstakingly beautiful look so pained at the same time?
"i was only in pain because you were."
he flinched, and the falling sun cast shadows from his lashes to his sunken cheeks [so pained].
"i can handle the fall of humanity, fall of unity, but i can't handle the fall of you."
a tiny crystalline drop raced towards the floor [it's a mistake]. she lost sight of his being for a second. she
Anorexia Never Felt So Righti.Anorexia Never Felt So Right5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I haven't eaten in days and I'm feeling a bit out of place, but no need to worry, we're just moving at a very different pace.
I tried telling you that I haven't been well and everything's coming to a standstill but you didn't seem to care as you just stood still and flicked aside my words like they were bullets aimed for your chest. You told me you didn't like talking about these things and I thought with me that maybe it would be different but I guess I'm nothing more than any other person that's passed you by. A hello, how are you like you give a fuck but you always leave before I can ever reply and I'm left whispering goodbye.
It's now a quarter past ten and my stomach's telling me I should feed it something but that's the whole reason I got into this position in the first place. I like to believe that some people can tell when you're just not right but I must be wrong because I've yet to find a single person that can see that I'm falling apart quicker than the words com
Love You EnoughI once loved you enough to let you goLove You Enough4 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Even though each footstep broke my pounding heart
As you stumbled in the dark
I once loved you enough to weep for you
Even as your smile wiped my tears away
Your droplets fell in their place
I still love you enough to hear your tears
Even while you place on me a halo
And I shake my hazy head
I don't love you enough to wear that dress
Won't you look at me?I'm talking to youWon't you look at me?5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Why won't you look at me?
Why are you crying?
Look at me anyway
Because you said you love me
But I DO love you
But you were serious
Because I love you
I know you do
But if you had said it
With a lilt and a smile
Would it still have meant anything?
I KNOW you love me
But I can let it become
A minor detail
But it isn't minor
It is Love
It is the essence of life
And I breathe it
Every moment that
I am alive
Then why won't
You let me say it?
Let it exist
You breathe the air
Do you not?
Yes, but it's not
The same thing
You need love as much.
See? It's more important
But it is not tangible
Do not try to make it so
I love you
It still isn't tangible
Well alright, but turn around
I'm talking to you
Why won't you look at me?
Blood Angeli.Blood Angel4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I am a smattering of shattered bone fragments littered all around the floor. The never-white shards have ripped through flesh that now lies torn and tattered in the rough-hewn shape of a woman-child. I weep silent tears as I kneel beside what once was mine and hold my heart close to my chest.
I am standing in shell-shocked misery, the shrapnel of barely-white shards embedded in my dermis. They will leave scars. More scars. They will add to the train-tracks tracing an exquisite map across my parchment-skin. They will leave scars across my atria.
I am pacing the edges of the room, listening to the weeping of the dead and the pain-filled silence of those who remain. I will wait patiently for the collective pain to subside, for the weeping woman-child can never come with me unless they let her. Even in death, she need's a familial permission to leave with a lover, even her Spirit Love.
I am still weeping, but my tears have subsid
Natural BeautyYou'll find her hiding under a moss-stained rock, singing love-song lullabies to sparrows. She'll be covered in rags, but for her natural beauty it might as well be silk. You'll learn to love her nasty streak, and weather the storm until it's passed.Natural Beauty5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
She'll cry tears of anger when you tell her it's too late, and the fragile creature cradled in her arms is too far gone. You'll sigh in exasperation and cradle them both in your arms, and you'll hush her until the gasping tears have subsided. She'll laugh with you the next day when she's tending something new, but when your back is turned she'll let silent drops fall into her patient's fur.
You'll take her away for a day, and you'll burn with jealousy at the looks pouring over her. She'll laugh at your antics and never see any of them, but she'll have a niggling sense of absence when you pull her past the maître d'. You'll watch her fiddle with the cotton hem, and you'll wonder if she'll ever fit into your world.
She'll roll an
SycophantI like to think that if I tore my dress and mussed my hair and rubbed your anger like rouge across my cheeks, you'd notice. I like to hope that bending over backwards isn't the only trick you'll ask of me; that jumping through hoops ringed in fire is a feat to be applauded, not expected. But the truth is that you are so much better at spite than hate - you're like me in that sense - and if I penned your eulogy across my skin you'd tell me that I'd never get a job with a tattoo that ugly. The truth is that you could color me like a sunrise with that slap across the face, and I would only turn the other cheek and tell you, "A little too much backhand, dear; would you like to try again?"Sycophant5 years ago in Emotional More Like This
The Perfect WayI know that you don't have a favourite colour, because you see beauty in absolutely everything. I know how you like your tea in the morning, yet she believes you still can't tell that she puts the milk in first.The Perfect Way5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Right at the moment you think you could love her, she surprises you. With talk of fashion struggles and gossip columns. And "Does my bum look big in this honey?" And you know in your soul, we'd climb the highest mountain together in the poorest clothes, admiring the world in blissful silence.
And when the skies start to fall, she'll be the first to shelter herself from the storm. In more ways than one and the thought often alarms you. You always did and always will want to sit in the rain. But the difference between what you did and what you do has now changed dramatically. You'll convert to the conventional ways of life. Following schedules and playdates, pressed suits and football matches. Peacemaker with an
A titanic kind of love.He could pick you apart like your favourite pastry; find every glob and sugared jewel, those cinnamon swirls you buried from view. His fingers peeled you down from crown to feet and he did it so tenderly you wouldn't even notice until you slipped on your own skin, amazed that you'd been naked in his presence. He knew you never watched the ground as you walked, eyes always on the sky and possibilities above. It was a hushed undressing, a stripping of water-based paints you thought were permanent. A beige canvas dripping wet, colours pooling on the floor, you'd shades trickling from your eyes and he told you he thought blank pages were beautiful because they were splattered with promise.A titanic kind of love.5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
You're drawing sunsets, pressing pastel pigments with your thumbs to create fish scaled leaves and haze. He could always build you up with everything you already owned, and he would stare up at you in adoration of the sincerest kind. He was selfless in loving you, showed you all his loose ends that he wr
Grey SnowstormTiny melancholy dreams are slipping and sliding through the huge snowdrift settled just behind your eyes. There's a storm swirling into a blizzard in those grey eyes of yours. I'd love for the grey to turn to blue, so that I know there's a calm, but I'll worry that the storm has simply gone on hiatus and will return with a vengeance before the night is over.Grey Snowstorm5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Huge spirals of crystal and dust are rippling the surface as you spill iced nuances into white-hot wounds. They couldn't hurt much more if they were salty tears cascading in a torrent into the shallow waters below. I wish that you would read those cursive ink-marks trailed across the page you threw into the ground, though it might be tea-stained and blotchy with the memory of train-tracks that you wept as you read it aloud.
The sweetest of cadences echo through a kaleidoscope as you listen to the rainbow reverberating in the narrowly coloured lane, until your feet sink in to finely grained sand and you gaze at the foam stallions th