By DesignRhys held his wife's hand as she tapped her foot nervously, staring at the door. They'd been waiting half an hour already for the doctor, and their appointment was supposed to be forty minutes ago. He appreciated the quiet of the room, but the silence made Wanda anxious.By Design2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"Everything's going to be okay, Wanda," he reassured her, squeezing her hand gently. "One of my coworkers has been through this and he says it's nothing. They're just going to ask a few questions, and take a sample of--"
"You know how much I hate needles, Rhys!" Wanda snapped, ripping her hand away. She shook her head and placed her hand on his knee. "I'm sorry. I really don't like doctors."
"I know, sweetie."
The door opened and Wanda jumped a little bit out of her seat. The doctor came into the room holding a clipboard and a pen and smiled politely at his patients.
The feigned sincerity of the smile was almost as convincing as the perfectly straight, titanium white teet
Written LegacyOne day,Written Legacy3 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
You'll all soon see,
It's just me,
And my written legacy.
Hopeful ImprisonmentDefiant flowers bloomHopeful Imprisonment3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Beyond his Cage.
CherriesSweet on the tongue, you lay with meCherries1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
in the ripeness of desire, and I recall
the whisper of your breath along my ear.
Never mind about tomorrow, love
forswear the sullen seed that fell before;
now I am here.
Tragic AuthorI’m looking forward to being a tragic authorTragic Author2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I’ll sit on a cloud with no silver lining
And become the male equivalent of a spinster
With words as my spouse and books as my offspring
At least then it is I who will control the outcome
For the lives of my heroes and heroines
And since I’ll not be afforded a happy ending
The least I can do is to give one to them
The Lord said ‘no’ to my happily ever after
Perhaps to inspire my imagination
A hollowed out heart is an ideal home after all
For my mind’s perpetual inspiration
I’m looking forward to being a tragic author
I’m such a devoted, hopeless romantic
Devoted in the sense I should have been committed
And hopeless as I took our love for granted
I dare you to keep the anguish and torment coming
As it will serve to inspire my greatest work
Assuming my heart pumps love more efficiently than pain
And my mind can refrain from going berserk
Now I sit in frustration with my parchment paper
The ink o
Fireflies prayFireflies prayFireflies pray2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
within glass cells
for lifetimes of freedom,
only to perish
Hello NowHello.Hello Now3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I don't know how to greet you
I only know that I have always thought of you as something
I could hold in my hands
a fistful of minnows before
puncture their own bones
and secrete the abalone glaze of their eyes
into a film on the dock
Until now I have since kept you as
a flighted likeness
of my mind
knowing too the cold of a multiplied sunset
ending in frost and space between rivers
the fragrance of a sweetly decomposing
salmonberry, telling time for reddening chinook to end
sweeping like a wind in the parts between birches
or of it's stain that I would palm and carry
thinking also of endings and beginnings
in such order
when gulls eat the cartilidge and fur
from animals put on the silted banks
of the knik
a place where the sun can fall deeply
as I am no longer alone,
and we hear the chickadees being the trees
and the loons wanting to make night
could it be appropriate now,
while twilight is flaming
to finally know your name?
Lend me a kissLend me your sweet lipsLend me a kiss2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Give me a soft kiss
Stay with me till the end
Let's stop playing pretend
Don't let my heart break
Let's learn from our mistakes
I'll let your love embrace
Mend me with your lovely grace
They never leave my mind
Your cherry colored lips
The roses that I have picked
And the sweetness that one day I'll kiss
Pour Me a Long One and We'll Discuss itTo be, and to keep being, despite worlds crashing down around youPour Me a Long One and We'll Discuss it6 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Scribbling in the margins, leaving the page blank, a stranger
Nothing exists in a vacuum, present your flawed warmness
You may save more than yourself; others depend on you to live
Do you see it yet, Brightstar?
Sunlight and moonshine in your eyes, the beat of your heart
Testify to your realness, to your philanthropic nature
You didn’t even realize, did you, that your words have weight
And that your soul is sea-worthy; write, teach, live, be more
More than scribbles in the margins
More than a footnote in the book of your own life.
MemoryMemory is like the tide,Memory3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
It swells and ebbs;
It's free and wide,
Yet ridden with dregs.
At times it's calm
Soothing and sweet;
Like a tender balm,
A gentle beat.
It's violent, too
Coarse and bitter;
Like a vicious coup,
A cruel winter.
In it, I do bask,
Adrift in my mind;
I need only ask
To be lost in time.
I bet you cut"I bet you cut yourself," he says and it takesI bet you cut2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
All of me and more, and there is nothing to take. I laugh
and cry a little inside. Die a little more and smile
"Of course not."
He stares at me and it's like one of those dreams where you're
Naked and I want to shove my guts in my mouth and burn in Heaven,
rip my scalpel through my thigh, throw my skull at a window and let the
Pain in my body overwhelm the pain in my heart.
"I'm joking," he says and I think I should feel bad for him, instead I
Hate him a little. He's grinning and I think about how I'd love to
Carve his face into the Joker.
"I know," I say and I hate myself a little, too.
He's gone back to me, front to his friends
and you'd think this was to become a nice old love story but
Happy endings only happen in books.
"I do," I whisper and I laugh because it sounds like a wedding vow and I
don't think I'll marry and I don't think I can. I'm scarred and eventually
my scars will have scars
and there will be no amoun
UndoneI cannot rememberUndone3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
what she wore that night,
or the smell of the moon
at her wrist,
or the blur of her cheek
grazing the pillow.
I cannot recall details
of her voice -
what was said
once the heat of July
nested in the curve
of my tongue
and pressed back
But I remember the shock -
the last tremor
of bricks and skin
carving an arc
into our breathing,
shaking the walls of her room
and the sound of the world
The Ringslender, tarnished silver bandThe Ring3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
rests in palm of withered hand
ancient promise, absent stare
detritus falls like snow on hair
wedding present grand oak bed
ghosts of words the mirror said
rain-rot splintered windowsills
caustic crumbs of guilty pills
footprints in the carpet dust
canopy of velvet shame
the progeny of lies and tears
divests her of her souvenirs
and grateful for the life she gave
the heirloom never meets the grave
Every Angel Deserves a Child"I can't feel the unfurling of my wings, Daddy."Every Angel Deserves a Child2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I was not her father. I had entered her life when she was two years old, and she called me Daddy since she never knew her real father. Her mother's death two years ago made me the sole, living parent of an thirteen year-old, and I never felt like I was the right person for the job.
"What do you mean, Asrin?"
"Mom always said that when puberty started I would be the swan that emerged from the ugly duckling. She said I would be able to fly gracefully towards my dreams. But, I don't feel it."
As much of a woman as she was becoming, she was still a child. I wanted to answer her question, but I really had a hard time discussing her blossoming womanhood in the middle of a laundromat. Her pretty eyes were pleading with me, but I told her we'd talk later.
Janet had told Asrin a lot of things before she succumbed to the cancer. The last week or so of Janet's life were morphine-induced fantasy, I think.
Janet and I had met during
LustHis hands have a habit of finding my hip bones,Lust2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
trailing his river like fingers along my stone smooth skin,
his lips do not move, his mouth tells me stories.
Mine spend their time
tracing the length and breadth
of his back in kisses*
We travel through lands that never existed
before we touched them
At temperatures far exceeding in Fahrenheit
If only we could understand
how lust and geography
make such divinely sinful bedmates.
* One hundred and sixteen
DaddyDaddy,Daddy2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
aren't you proud of me?
Haven't I done enough Daddy?
Am I not your little girl?
I'm sorry I'm not perfect,
but can you please come back?
I promise I'll do better.
I promise I can be perfect.
Don't you love me?
Look I drew you a picture,
will you come home now?
Where did you go?
Please come back.
Mommy says you don't care anymore
but I know it's not true.
It can't be true.
You don't even call anymore.
You said you loved me
and that I was your princess,
then why aren't you here?
Please come home.
I want my Daddy back.
The HarpThe Harp3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Pluck any of my strings
till you find one
that sings to you -
something dark throated
like the jewelled thrush
upon my sill.
Ponder its strange weight,
the terrible beauty
of its voice;
the way it winds inside you
and pulls you close
like skin shuttering out
And then let it resonate
taut and tight
against your ears -
each note a raw hope
that hides tomorrow
and keeps you running
from the light.
Not mineHe's perfectNot mine3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
He's a good hugger
He's a listener
He's her boyfriend
She's one of my best friends
He may be perfect
He's not mine