Storybook EndingHer ink-stained lips have kissed too many a forgotten page,
and phoenix down]
And her Prince Charming has yet to come,
shattering like stars]
So all she can do is gaze out her tower window,
concealing poisoned apples]
Clutch that corroded and timeworn blade,
tearing down castle walls]
Toss her childhood fables to the waltzing of the moon,
[even broken wings
wish for happily ever afters]
[once upon a time
there was a girl who became her own hero.]
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
The PoetThe Poet:The Poet3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
He smiles as he sees her sleeping
& gently covers her with a blanket.
He goes to the window and looks out
watching snow fall, ever so slowly...
He sees people in the streets,
Chatting, walking. Some happy,
Others sad. Hearts beating,
Hearts broken; some warm, some cold.
He looks back at her, as she stirs in bed.
A yawn from her, brings another smile to him:
"How cute," he chuckles as he strokes her head.
He runs his fingers through her hair and is content.
Yet, even if he is happy here, again -
He is drawn to that window and finds himself
Staring out at the street and watching;
Marveling at the disparity and wondering -
Isn't there something that I can do?
Isn't there a better way for us all?
He looks back at her, sleeping peacefully;
He thinks about the future and sighs.
He wants a better world for her,
One where she would always be safe,
But unfortunately, he has no power.
He is just one man with little to his name.
He picks up a piece of paper, one found lyin
In absence of a poem.I chewed my pen to the nibIn absence of a poem.3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
and swallowed the ink thoughtlessly,
but no matter how long I thought,
I couldn't say what you mean to me.
I tried, I tried and I tested,
every word in my diminutive range,
but I screwed up more pieces of paper
and happened upon something strange;
I noticed words, which have served me,
for all of my formative years,
had no power to convey my gratitude
for the times that you dried my tears.
Whenever I doubt myself (often),
You're the one who tells me I'm wrong
You lift up my chin and remind me, wait
for the good things that will come along.
I can't find a way to express how
you are the saving grace in my head.
So words can't tell you how I love you -
I hope my silence will tell you instead.
MaybeJust give me one dream that isn't see-through.Maybe3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
One substantiated claim to reality,
that I might hold onto life with.
Every quivering cell, mid-osmosis, begs you
for a shred of dignity with my tea.
Just one chance for something heavy,
something hard and room temperature. Real.
I don't want to look through my day dreams
and see someone else's face there.
I don't want to dream of those people
who may make, or break me, in the future tense.
I am tired of milky white and reflective black.
It is time for a life of colour and hope -
and not looking back to see if the past
matches up with the jigsaw map to the end game.
I want to be in the game, participating,
feeling, like I might make it there one day.
Just give me something, that I can hold onto;
something harder to see through than a whisper
of that voice in the back of my mind that says
R.I.P WordsDo you know what it feels like?R.I.P Words3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
To feel something, but...
be unable to express what it is;
to be silent;
to fight it alone.
I know how much it hurts,
but I don't know how to show it.
Poetry used to be my refuge,
a place where I could be alone -
express all my emotions,
without being judged.
I'm losing it.
I can't connect to poetry.
Everything sounds so stupid...
Everything I write sounds stupid.
I have to erase all my feelings,
because they don't sound right.
The words aren't real.
They don't show what I feel
And maybe this will be the last.
Maybe I'm gone:
lost of all emotions.
I'm truly alone...
I used to have poetry.
Now I have nothing.
You'll Never DieHear me read it!You'll Never Die3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
They say that if a writer falls in love with you then you never really die.
Instead your body is laid out in its funerial shrouds and moulds are made. Soft impressions of you to be pressed onto the blank faces of future loves.
Every time I write of taking comfort in a safe place in a storm, it will be your forearm. Every half-made smile will be on your lips, and every touch will be constructed from the residue beneath your fingernails.
When I metaphise of trees' blood, the leaves that give the energy so that a willow can provide shade for those in need, it will be your blood, it will be your light drenched kisses.
Every tear on every face will taste of the sweat that you put into keeping me happy. Every soaring song of love will be played through your windpipe, your trachea my instrument of choice.
For every time that a hero has the strength to walk on, I will use your feet. I will weld them to my own and walk a mile. Wal
Witch OilThere's magma boiling in her frostbitten veins;Witch Oil3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
incandescent pixie dust and
sluggishly making its way through
a childish heart — wishing for one last chance
to spread her wings and soar to
I'm UglyI know that I’m notI'm Ugly3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I know that you know
That I know that I’m not
But I feel like it
Oh God, I feel like it
I know I’ve got clear eyes
And lovely hair
But when I look in mirrors
The imperfections scream
‘Till the tiny cracks
Become huge gaping holes
That I’m terrified you’ll see
I need to hear it
Tell me that I’m beautiful
handle with carethere are 206 bones in thehandle with care2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
human body. it only takes one good
squeeze and your neck can snap as
easily as a twig.
once, when i was at the grocery
store, i came across a crate of
peaches. they were on sale because
every single one was bruised and it
made me think, "we're all just pieces of fruit
left to rot. as soon as we've been dropped on the
floor, no one wants to help us back up."
i've forgotten how to think in poetics.
three months ago i would have
compared people to roses. pretty little petals
that can be crushed with just
one little pinch and thorny stems that
whisper "don't touch me."
i think we're more like
together like suffocating sardines in tiny
wooden boxes decorated with red
paint announcing across the sides
"danger: this side up."
red red rosesi am not a goddessred red roses2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
nor do i
believe i wish to
i'd rather be a half-forgotten
or a girl with opium
eyes and a
who doesn't believe in
kisses demons with lips
that whisper poetry as artificial
as the mannequins in a
i want wings:
appendages stitched from
and the feathers you
can find on
the ground - dirty,
ripped, but still
and i would soar
higher and higher
and buy up
all the stars.
if i am being
i fall in love with
and wolf boys
much like the way a candle
melts; fast, hot, and dripping
wax down the side.
i just want to fit
between these ugly bones
and the too-tight skin
that stretches across them.
AquariusShe is the winter's heartAquarius3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and a January zephyr—
amethyst ankles frozen in time.
(eleven stars circulate her glacial ribs)
Forever shin-deep in the seas of
a conformed humanity,
she shall always sanctify the stains.
Why I Hate Romantic Comedies1.Why I Hate Romantic Comedies2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Because they say that for every single boy who counts the stars, there is a little girl who is wishing upon one. (And they never mention what happens after the stars fade into morning and the other falls into oblivion)
Because they say that people fall in love when the time is right, they are true to each other and are ready to be together. (But no one ever mentions how she is so damaged she can barely think, and he is so cynical that he may never be ready.)
Because they insist that your soulmate is going to be a good, kind, caring human being who will love you from the bottom of their hearts. (This is due to the fact that even if there is someone for everyone, bad people are immune to the soulmate theory.)
Because they always have a happy ending (And real life begins after the sun has set and she has realized that he may not be everything she hoped for and he begins to have second thoughts about commitment.)
Because everything is assured in i
Heart:a rebellionHeart:3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in her chest.
she's got skin
unworthy to write
she tapes those
to her limbs
OverActive ImaginationLike verbal synesthesia,OverActive Imagination3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in my head.
bang bang bang
and all I think are flashes.
Computer fans are white noise
and clicking keys a melody.
I sleep on piles of books
and tell myself bedtime stories
that never, ever end.
It's the same one, every night.
I edit, even in my head.
One color brings four hundred synonyms to mind
and the feeling of fabric is like a burst of light.
Looking at a photograph is often over whelming,
and all I want to do is know what
they were thinking,
not what I am.
It's a curse and a blessing,
on a wing and a prayer,
and a hundred other cliches
that will never go away.
Here's to the over active imagination
that won't stop finding the meaning in everything.
Society Says You Can'tA girl can’t wear black and be happySociety Says You Can't2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A girl can’t wear bright colors and be sad
A girl who doesn’t follow trends must be a loser
And a girl with no “boyfriend” must be damned
A boy who treats women right is weak
A boy who beats and bruises them is a real man
A boy who shows emotion is forceless
And only the assholes are left in the end
A boy can’t talk to a girl
Without them being lovers
A girl can’t invite a boy over
Without it being a date
It’s “impossible” for them
To just be friends
A boy can’t love a boy without being sent straight to hell
And a girl can’t love a girl because that’s a sin as well
If you’re not straight
You must be gay
There’s nothing in between in their eyes
But in their eyes you’re all damned anyway
In a perfect world
You could love who you want
And act like yourself
But that perfect world
Is much too far away
It's all about her,-I had never wished to know the moon,It's all about her,3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
or the burning gaze of her lover.
I am merely a forest of silences,
old dogwoods & untamed hair.
-But, I made a promise
to a bone collector once.
He could have my spine,
my kneecaps, &
one flowered rib,
wrapped & bowed-up
like a present
-if he could fall in love
with things that slip through his fingers:
-“It would be a sin to love you,
my dear sweet wolf;
you will always cry for the moon.”
Time Is The CureTime Is The Cure3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Time Is The Cure
Right hand of destruction
Left hand of creation
It's a never ending cycle
A fatal revival caught in a downward spiral
I tear down reality’s mask
As I build up a truth to give hope a chance
The veiled darkness decays
The guiding light fades
I let go of an old pain
As new tears wash it away
The sun always rises
The moon always sets
The rain subsides
The storm is put to rest
Clouds confide / Memories detest
Skies collide / Cries confessed
Light shines / Dark regrets
Pain hides / Peace professed
A new day awaits
An old night forgotten
Tomorrow I shall awake
To cradle what remains unbroken
I can't erase my mistakes
But I can't let them define my fate
There's always control
There's always faith to hold
Opposites are locked together
I am the sinner; I am the confessor
With time- comes change
Agony and serenity dawn a n
preemptive breakup poemif anyone ever tells you your sadness isn't physical,preemptive breakup poem3 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
show them the ache in your bones,
the raw skin on your arms or wrists or hips or thighs,
the imprint of your foetal body on your mattress from the days you couldn't bear to leave.
and you see this?
this is what hurt looks like.
i want you to look closer, lean in a little until you can feel the sadness on my breath
and i want you to watch my eyes. count how often they blink and count how many of them are forcing back words i still can never say.
i don't want you to miss a second of how you make me feel.
i want to be what keeps you up at night
i want to be the reason you can't eat
or laugh at your favourite tv programs
i want to be the reason
you walk with your eyes on the pavement
because too many things
remind you of me
i want you to feel the soreness of a heart unloved
loudly enough that the beating is mute and slow
loudly enough that you keep your hands in your pockets
when you move through the city so you don't touch any
Missing Pieces.I am a missing piece. Something that someone needs.Missing Pieces.3 years ago in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
But at the same time, I feel so incomplete.
I’ve wandered way too far, wondered for far too long
Am I a missing piece? Or a piece that won’t belong?
Is it possible I’m damaged and not missing at all?
That I’m just as dysfunctional as everybody else?
Pretending to be perfect never softened a single fall.
But neither did admitting that you’re broken and flawed.
A broken missing piece. Is that all I’m meant to be?
There is no master plan that includes the likes of me.
Being all alone, it’s a hurt that will not cease.
A hundred thousand years from now
I’ll still be
PersephoneI fed herPersephone3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and she cried
at every frozen sunrise
for 180 days.
With cracks in my heart
caught in my hair
I counted 180 more.
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.
Painted SkinPainted Skin:Painted Skin3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
He smiles at you, as you enter the office;
Wearing eyeliner made of contempt and disdain.
His cheap cologne invades your nostrils immediately
And you quickly suppress a cough.
"Yes, yes, indeed we have to review this...er, many things are involved."
His face is powdered with a layer of self-importance;
Lips reddened by the polite harshness he spews.
His forked tongue flickers as he prattles on
And you're really getting quite tired.
"Oh I'm sorry! Of course, of course I understand; but my way is much better!"
You're getting really bored now, so you take a look around the room.
The expectation is to see it bedecked with acolades;
Yet bare walls, cold and empty, are all that greets you.
"Are you listening to me, I'm telling you why this isn't good enough. LISTEN TO ME!"
You take a look at the cup of coffee you were offered,
Cheap and lukewarm; you narrow your eyes.
"Is there a problem? I'm being honest, this is for YOUR OWN GOOD!"