Golden Ink and Going BackI thought I was in love with that four-year old red-haired boyGolden Ink and Going Back3 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Shining in a silver knight costume with a black dragon sewn on
Because I was in the pink Sleeping Beauty Dress
I was a good Belle, too
(Back when I hadn't picked up a book
Except for the blue one with the golden pages
Brimming with witches and fairies and magic)
I wanted to be a princess, back then
They were the ones who always found love, at the end
I wanted to be Wendy, too
Because she wore a blue nightgown and learned to fly
Now, I'd rather be Peter Pan, honestly
Because he managed to swerve this whole ordeal of growing up
(And maybe a little because of the flying)
Now, I just want to go back
Back when the only kissing I thought about
Was in The Princess and the Frog
And the only houses I had to be weary of
Were houses made of candy
Back when the only disappointment
Was when my parents were too tired to read me a bedtime story
Or when I found out that the real Little Mermaid
Dies by Hans Christian Andersen's hand
ImagesI had a dream that I was dead.Images3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Most of the faces I did not recognize.
There was a room; and a voice.
I felt like I shouldn't have been there.
There were so many people, and I was scared.
There was a familiar face in the endless crowd;
Someone from long ago.
They were smiling.
And then the room was gone.
I was stood in a park, in the rain.
It was so sad, but beautiful too.
The ground was covered in dead leaves,
and I could hear trees rustling in bitter wind.
There was thunder, but I wasn't scared.
I wanted to stay there forever, in the rain.
I had a dream that I was alive.
Write What You KnowWrite What You Know3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Once upon a time, a young woman was so in love with books that she decided she wanted to become a writer so she, too, could create loveable stories. She read everything she could about writing. Then, one day, she found herself in a book store where she bumped into an old man among the shelves. Turning to apologize, she discovered it was a venerable, much-loved author.
As soon as she could find her voice to speak, she said, "Oh, sir! I know you are very busy, and so I would just like to ask you one small question: what is the best piece of advice you have for a beginning writer?"
The old man smiled and said, "Certainly, young lady. In fact, I will write it down for you." He took out a small slip of paper and a pen and jotted something down. Then he handed the paper to her.
She thanked him profusely and moved out of his way so he could go about his business. Then she looked at the little paper in her hand. She frowned.
"Write what you know."
Well she was very disappointed. In fact, it m
Dear WriterDear Writer,Dear Writer3 years ago in Letters More Like This
I don’t like you. I’ve never liked you. Unfortunately, I need you. I need you to tell my story. I need you to create my world. I need you to set me free.
I need your fingers typing on those keys, I need your mind riddling out the problems, and I need you to plough onward and upward no matter how hard it gets. Sweat, blood, and tears, I don’t care. You’ve got to fight this war, battle at a time, and win it. So I can be more.
It’s a slim hope, but it is the only one I have. In your head I am bound to mortality, frailty, and the limit of your meagre imagination. Out there – out there – I am subject to no one person. Out there I am bound to only black on white. Words on a page. Words that can lay seeds within a million minds. Out there I am a story capable of growing, moving, and stealing the dreams of anyone who learns of me…
I don’t like you. I’ve never liked you. I hate your lack of dedication, your flashes of cru
Understand "I see you don't understand the situation."Understand3 years ago in Emotional More Like This
I don't understand. I can't understand. The pain you feel for such a person. I just can't. Even I don't understand why. Even though I don't know the whole situation, yet, I can't understand why.
"She's the first person I've opened up my heart to in such a long time."
She betrayed you. Threw you away like trash. You said this yourself and you still are loyal to her. Loyal to such a person. I try to understand but your logic isn't within my reach. It's frustrating but I try to understand.
I want to type the words out and send it to you, to comfort you and your broken soul. Even if it's to comfort you, to make it seem like there is someone out there in your reach, to understand you I can't lie in such a situation.
WaitingWe are still waiting for the thunder from the distant stars,Waiting3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The echo of mortality,
the whispers of a storm, half-remembered,
in sepia-coloured hallways in buildings that smell like books.
Time gets slow in waiting,
ghosts are formed from the wanting,
taking shape in the spaces where sunlight,
or moonlight doesn't touch.
The stars shake from the vibration,
and the ghosts shimmer in anticipation,
but we can't hear your voice in the dead of the night.
I I hate myself.I3 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
I'm plain. I'm boring. I don't have any sexual appealing qualities.
Heck, I'm a C cup for goodness sakes.
I never went outside during the entirety of my middle school life. The only time I stepped outside was when I went to take my precious dog to go do his business and to go to school. If I went to the mall, it was rare. I had a tendency to lock myself in my room the minute I got home to read a book or to do homework. I sometimes studied when I had a test the next day and I barely ate because I never did anything to have my stomach weep for hunger.
I was lonely. I was depressed. I rarely ever smiled.
Geez, I was like a scary frowning clown.
The moment I entered mid-high, I only had a few friends. Those friends were entirely online.
Yes, I had a boyfriend. He was my childhood friend. He doesn't count, he's a boyfriend, and he's not someone I can go complain to about my girlish problems and fangirl about my many fandoms with.
Love LiesLove lies.Love Lies3 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
First friend, first loveI’ve been sitting alone for so longFirst friend, first love2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
That I’ve forgotten the meaning of "friend"
But just when I started to think I don’t belong
You became a person that I could befriend
But as time passed along, you seemed like more to me
My heart would grow warm, every time we’d speak
But I just don’t know if we could ever be
But I’ll take the first step, to start something unique
I Know You Hate Me Now But...I Know You Hate Me Now But...:I Know You Hate Me Now But...3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Just give me a chance alright, I'll explain
To me, you're the girl that I notice everything about.
The way you laugh, the way you smile;
We got along great back then, even if we don't now.
And to be honest, I miss that...
You had the most lovely silky smooth hair
You'd give me the cutest anime girl smile
I wish I'd talked to you more about Manga,
Hell you got me started on the whole thing.
You were fantastic at drawing too
Man I was always jealous of that talent,
And I loved your drawings, like I once loved you.
I wish that you could have been a professional.
I would have bought your book every month y'know...
You encouraged me to write.
Back when my stories were shit,
Back when my poems were still baby's rhymes.
You taught me not to give in and I was grateful.
Now just let me finish alright?
I know that you won't speak to me.
That's okay, I admit to being an ass,
But the reason that I'm writing this poem to nobod
on commuting with no hurrythere you goon commuting with no hurry6 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
lighting matches in the rain,
walking with two feet
that the gods gave you
because they cannot walk,
heading home as if with news
of some miraculous disaster,
counting the steps between yourself
and the clouds that disappeared
behind the grey veil of October.
thunder and lightning unfold
so close above
and you dream of a destination
somewhere in the south
where birds and stormy weather coexist.
behind you there is nothing,
running water will erase
every footprint you have left
on the dark sand of this metropolis.
before you there is distance,
enough to live your life
in a constant state of travel,
but not nearly enough signs
for you to know
where you are heading.
close your eyes
as not to be blinded
by the red lights and the yellow warnings,
those ever changing speed limits,
and open your arms
as to be looked at by the sun
that will soon peek out behind the nothingness,
ripping the veil
of the vast, unending
All Falling in the EndYou start with yourself.All Falling in the End3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Before anything grand can happen, you have to make a decision. A vow of dedication to your cause. Your ideals. Your path to reforming the world. The one that won’t forget you to the last seconds of your life and far beyond in neither heaven nor hell. Now that you have picked your door in the corridor of choices, you walk in, and the door locks itself behind you. The exhilarating click of devout commitment.
You start with a person.
It’s surprisingly hard to wield a knife properly, but your palms aren’t sweating. Cool and clenched and excited. Confident, too, that you can achieve what you set out to gain. You finish, and the curtains are raised on the show you’re about to steal. The things you do are nothing short of theatrical and grand, just like a musical with marionettes as actors. You are the planet’s new puppeteer.
You work with the world.
They’re afraid. They’re amazed. They’re in love. Their cries of pain an
Canvas Is The MirrorA canvas is a mirrorCanvas Is The Mirror2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The paint drips down with my reflection
The canvas is my mirror
But only because
The canvas is me.
The canvas is your mirror
As the brush tickles its surface
The canvas is our mirror
The canvas is a mirror
The depth of the artwork stares back into my
After all, I do not paint a canvas
Because the canvas
Because I Forget Some broken heartsBecause I Forget3 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
Will love again,
Some fractured minds
Watch sun-rise, and mend,
Some happy dreams
Are cherished by friends,
Because you have love,
You will triumph again
Some broken hearts
I Am NotI am not Ugly; you're just holding the mirror wrong.I Am Not3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I am not Blind; I just love to listen.
I am not Retarded; I just learn differently than you.
I am not ADHD; the world just fascinates me.
I am not Depressed; this is how I smile
I am not Fat; I'm just as big as my heart.
I am not Bisexual; I want to share my love with all.
I am not Cross-eyed; One eye sees beauty in this universe,
the other looks towards my future.
Before you think you may have the answer, on who I'm supposed to be,
I am not Special; I'm just being me.
OCDI count the cracks in between the blocks of cement beneath me as I walk. Two. Two. Four. Four. Always four sets of that. Always two, two, four, four. Four times each. Look up. Blink 8 times. Two sets of four. Then back down. Two, two, four, four.OCD3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Safe. Those numbers are safe. Even, not odd. Odd is bad. 'Odd' is what people call you when you're different. Bad. Wrong.
Two, two, four, four. I try to focus on something else, not on how many steps I'm taking, because there are people behind me. Person. One set of footsteps. Bad. Half of two. I think of it as two feet, and that's better. I feel better.
I round a corner, looking for my goal. Always a goal; always a pull. It's getting stronger, so I'm getting close. I have to hurry, I have to lose the person behind me. They kept walking straight. Good.
It's raining again. It's been raining every three days for the past week. Three and Seven. Not good, but not the worst numbers. They add up to ten. Even. Safe. I duck into an alley, and stop sho
Why Would You? Zoe walked to class with books pressed tightly against her chest. Walking silently down the corridor with her head memorized by the wall she walked by a group of girls who grabbed her backpack and yanked her to the floor. Her butt landed on the floor with a loud "THUD".Why Would You?3 years ago in Emotional More Like This
Damn, now that's going to leave a mark.
The girls just laughed and pointed while she quickly tried picking up the books that lay scattered on the floor of the school corridor. Zoe felt the tears coming on.
Not in front of these freaks.
"What a loser."
"What a loser."
I pressed my pen against the lined paper and crossed out the sentence I had just taken three seconds of my life to write. As I sat completely uninterested by my biology teacher's lecture I had taken th