PeriwinkleShe was four months old sitting in the back seat with the most adorable toothless grin. Lilli made a delighted sound as the warm summer air blew in from the window and rushed over her face. She stretched her arms, her tiny fingers pointing out and up, up up! It was such a lovely moment, one that I will never forget.
I looked out and up and saw a sky naked of clouds, and a color that spoke volumes. Light blue with just a hint of lavender, feminine and soft yet bright.
It took me back to my four year old self on Christmas morning. Santa had brought me a Crayola Caddy with a hundred crayons. One by one I inspected each color until I came to periwinkle.
I had never seen the color and it was an incredible discovery.
It was the first of the box to be whittled down to a waxy stump and when I could no longer color with it I asked my mother for another box of crayons.
I had ninety-nine perfectly good crayons for coloring, she said, but the rest just weren’t the same. Violet-Blue was
A Good StormIt started as snow, little white flakes swirling in the sky. Covering the earth in a pale, cool blanket. Then the wind picked up, the sky turned black and the pretty balls of frost warmed to the touch, turned to rain. Ruining my pretty snow blanket.A Good Storm2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I stared out the window, listening as the wind howled, scowling as the lights flickered.
The storm robbed me of power, flooded my basement and caused uncharted mayhem.
For three days it was dark. For three days I ate dinner by candlelight. At first, I pouted incessantly but then something strange happened... The lack of electricity unplugged my brain, forced me to seek out other entertainment, like...*gasp* talking. Interacting with other humans by...speaking to them.
I never realized how anti-social I was until that storm, and now when storms come I smile into the whipping wind. I scream to the heavens for more. I ask God to cry, to sob, to soak me in rainwater and take my power for days on end
the chasethe waves chased usthe chase1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
and we ran
squealing when the icy Atlantic caught up to our toes
the sea-foam lingered
and she watched it
touching what she called the ocean’s bubble bath
the sand stuck to our feet
and we smiled at each other
racing back toward the water in a chase of our own
How much do you love?The day he came home with blood on his shoes, he'd been gone for almost a week. She looked at him with anxious eyes, his grim face and sad eyes and did not ask the question that trembled on her tongue. Instead she asked another question. "Are we moving?"How much do you love?4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
He almost broke then. Regret, self-pity, love, anger and despair warred for dominance, made a brief rictus of his beloved face. Then he nodded once, not trusting himself to speak.
"Okay, it won't take me long to pack."
He stared at her, noted the set of her shoulders and the look of resolve on her face as she shoved away from the table where she'd been sitting with a cup of tea. She approached him, bare feet slapping lightly on floor and for a moment, he thought that she would strike him ― it was after all what he deserved but instead, she launched herself into his arms.
He held her for a long time, grateful that he still could, that she understood.
The Sand in My EyesYou might say we're different, but at this point I'd say we're worlds apart. Continents, planets, galaxies, all of that. But not physically, no physically we're without a choice. Earth is a big place but that doesn't make sharing it with you any easier.The Sand in My Eyes5 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
The way I see it, the best and worst parts of everyone are scattered somewhere the mind can't quite conjure up. Maybe the pieces are like sand on beaches. The better fragments of me were strewn on a very different paradise than wherever yours linger. The lesser parts of us that matched up the slightest bit mingle together on the same beach. All of these handfuls of sand appear the very same to the naked eye, but the aid of a microscope takes away the blur. The details will show, buck naked and embarrassed, but they need to. You and I never got scientific enough. The microscope came afterward in the form of hindsight.
It's much too easy to get drunk off of the pretty things people say. To get high from sweet nothings, gifts, a
HopesHopesHopes4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Each hope is like a flower,
The ones that wither when they're touched.
Each hope is like a letter,
Crumpled when read too much.
Each hope is like a flying bird--
You cannot keep it down;
Each hope is like the Word of God,
Bombastic trumpet sounds.
Each hope is rare, and pure, and new,
Like a child in the womb;
Each hope is fair, and sure, and true
Like the words etched on a tomb.
I gave my hope, the last of mine,
I gave my hope to you
And that was wise, because in time,
You gave me your hope too.
And our hope is like a fortress,
Fortified and strong;
And our hope is tough and fearless--
And will go on
Life Between Fear and LoveIt wasn't about getting him to stop hurting himself.Life Between Fear and Love5 years ago in Emotional More Like This
It wasn't about helping him understand that what he was doing was wrong, either. It wasn't about showing him the constructive aspect of life. It wasn't about giving him another way out. Nothing ever is that simple.
People prefer these kinds of tragedies be second-hand knowledge, arbitrary and diluted enough so that they can push it away with a simple "too bad". He was no tragedy, although he was treated and perceived that way. And also he was not wrong in the way he thought. However, he vividly saw something no one else was aware of. He was so intensely conscious of a presence that no one else could identify themselves. It was about fear and knowing fear closely and intimately, embedded into the world he saw. Here was life in its full expanse and he did not know what to do with it.
You'll have to understand that, with fear, there is no right or wrong, black or white, justice or chaos. True fear is so much more than that, so much more
The VisitThe VisitThe Visit5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I saw you today after so long
You still have your book of philosophy
It is battered and the pages are dog-eared
Yellowed from the touch of nictotine-stained fingers
The spine fractured and the cover faded
The wrinkles on your face are more pronounced now
Eyes that are not what they used to be
Skin that has cracked and is as fragile as parchment
You have wheels instead of legs
I still have my book of fables
It lives among the boxes in my closet
I wanted to keep memories of you hidden
As I tried to run from the past
There are small lines on my face now
My eyes are colder and have seen more
I no longer wear flowers in my hair
And I've forgotten all the nursery rhymes
Spring has passed us by
The days of collecting unopened chestnuts
Of picking dandelions and making wishes
And skipping stones across the lake
I remember the way you held me on your shoulders
The times you pushed me on the swing
And read me bed-time stories
To chase away the monsters under the bed
Now I face t
Kiss From A RoseYesterday, I was walking down a crowded street until I found this girl standing on the corner with dark red hair. She told me her name was Rose and one day she wanted to be on Broadway. I told her I was a writer and had a dream of being published but my words weren't nearly pretty enough. They were nothing compared to her bright blue eyes that were striking enough to burn out all the stars in the sky. I had a tendency to fall short of breath but she knocked the wind out of me for an entirely different reason.Kiss From A Rose4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Later that week, we went on our first date to this small Italian restaurant where everyone had thick accents and we felt a little out of place. It didn't really matter at that point though because I was only trying to understand the strings of words she was projecting from her speaker box. I learned that she was adopted from an orphanage when she was 8 and graduated from high school when she was 16 where she finished at the top of her class. She went to a college for the performin
living you[monday]living you5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i spent all night bending my fingernails
back, and ripping them off, and painting
whats left the summer sky colour of your
eyes. just in case i happen to lose you, and
give in to myself.
i spent all day regulating my breathing,
wondering if it was perfectly synchronized with yours.
then i realized that you wouldnt be familiar with the
concept of hysteria.
i spent all hours of daylight outside under
the sun, with no protection from the heat, trying to remember
what you told me about the symptoms of heatstroke. if i hallucinate,
will i get to see you again?
i spent the time from dawn til dusk in a bath of
your perfume, wanting to feel the burn of you on my skin, and in
my lungs. but you left the box behind the blinds on the windowsill,
and the sun had taken your scent before i had the chance.
i spent the afternoon contemplating writing you a
letter; one that needed no reply, then i remembered that
when you left, you too
One.To the one that's known my name, but not me, the longest,One.4 years ago in Emotional More Like This
We met under the rising sun of our adolescence, watching children dance between the cover of clouds, playing like children should play, and living like people should live. I didn't know it then, but I sure as hell felt it; you were changing, falling into the cracks in the shadows, becoming one of the people you promised you'd never be.
They said we'd always be friends, as sure as the stars in the sky and the slide on the playground. It turns out, they ended up taking the slide away, replacing it with a swing-set you would've hated. Honestly, it's not something I really mind; it's hard to miss a ghost.
To the one made of lies, fueled by regret,
I liked the you I saw once, when you hung on my every word and wore deceit with grace and precision. You danced around the truth more than your legs could ever muster, more passionate and alive than any ballerina I've ever seen.
You wanted to be Queen, the leader of an army of faceless, bu
Joyi.Joy4 years ago in Drama More Like This
"How do you know?"
"Who's else would it be?"
"I dunno. G'nite."
"Oh good, you're alive. I thought you had a heart attack on me or something."
"I've been getting sick every morning. It sucks."
"I'm due in June, just before school ends. This actually works in my favor; I have the whole summer off."
"What are we going to do? Devon, we're seventeen."
"I don't know, Lisa, I don't know."
"Devon, it's a girl."
"Is she beautiful?"
"Devon, she's still just barely past the embryo stage. She looks nothing like a human yet."
"I bet she's beautiful."
"C'mon, Lisa, don't cry..."
"Do you even remember what happened?"
"No, not really."
"We were at the park, I think..."
"Yeah, because you came home with grass stains on your dress."
"Oh, that's right. And you said something along the lines of, 'stop worrying, nothing bad is going to ha
Bear With MeShe says there's more to her in this world but she's proven wrong as i let each day unfold.Bear With Me4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
It feels like romance on a rocket ship, out in space from chest pains to the thoughts lining my brain membranes. I feel so lightheaded with a slight chance of dizzy when she looks into my eyes and the forecast calls for a 30% chance of butterflies when her lips catch mine. I try and speak what's on my mind but my throat becomes clogged with line after line until I find myself dialing 911; the words are just too thick and act like a dam clogging my esophagus. My right lung tells me that pretty soon it's going to apply for retirement but I tell it to just bear with me a little longer and as soon as I'm sure this is real, my heart will kick in for assistance. Until then, I'll keep seeing the doctor weekly and taking my prescribed medicine of being by her side 3-5 times a week and writing out my feelings when my throat runs to dry to speak them. Maybe she will be the life i was looking for or maybe
Eternal GoodbyeHas there ever be a point in your life when you feel the need to do something and not give up until you really accomplish that? I was at that point. Until now. Well, until recently when I finally decided to really let go and give it up.Eternal Goodbye5 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Its been years. I had wronged someone I love back when I was not old enough to know better. Back then when I felt I was so perfect I would always be forgiven or understood no matter how much I have hurt someone.
I couldn't remember if she had forgiven me or not. I guessed, she never did. Or I would have remembered. I am probably I still am blocking that memory away because even until now I couldn't remember how I have handled the situation. Until I said my good bye, it was the best thing I could do for her. Because I have taken that one love that had held me precious and destroyed it in one blink of an eye.
5 Pieces of Mei.5 Pieces of Me4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I remember when you told me to pick a color, any color, and I chose red because it's the color of your cheeks when you blush and the name of my favorite band and means stop because every time I'm around you, I swear my heart threatens to cease beating.
It's hard for me to breathe and mutter the right words when I'm with you and sometimes I grow dizzy and become afraid of falling flat on my face because my legs like to get as tangled as my voice box does sometimes.
I feel like I write the same damn things over and over again but I swear I can't help it because my mind is just so cluttered with images of you and snapshots of the few times you claimed you loved me. You're still out there somewhere but I'm not sure where and I wish I didn't even care anymore.
I wake up 5 out of 7 days a week in pain from my liver because I've learned to survive off of a case of beer and no less than 6 shots of tequila in attempts to cover up reality and quell the burning of the remaining at
ChangesShe is tormented from a young age. Something in her is born flawed, because her childhood innocence does not protect her from all the pain and suffering in the world. She can only see, and feel horrified.Changes4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
A mother, on a roadside, shot by a demented man who picked up his rifle in the grip of rage. There is blood, everywhere. And a son kneels at the crimson-clad lady's side, despair in the sobs that rack his body. 'Tell me what to do!' he screams, but her answer is lost in her rasping final breaths.
So much helplessness in the face of such disaster.
Her neighbour, watering his plants. She spies over the wall, perched in a mango tree, wondering if she can filch a few bilimbis from his garden without him noticing. And then suddenly, he gasps and drops the watering can, bending over sinking to the grassy ground. As she watches, petrified, he goes pale and his lips become blue as he seems to be struggling with something she cannot see. She knows he is dying. And
Outim out of wordsOut6 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
and out of rhyme
out of breathe
and out of time
out of death
and out of life
out of worry
out of strife
out of love
and out of hate
out of kindness
out of fate
out of sunlight
out of grit
out of my mind
and out of it
DavidDavidDavid4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
There is only one photo of him
and in it he ages slowly
while his memories - and memories of him
fade to nothing.
His smile, gone these forty years
returns when his eyes or fingers
trace lines of poetry.
His speech softly stammers
and classrooms quiet to accommodate
his frequent pauses.
Tragedies project onto his eyelids;
the soft hum of his voice disguises
the scar he bears.
When he heard the news the second time
he threw himself across the pyre
though he didn't know
whether it was to be consumed by fire
or to extinguish it.
He planted flowers in the ashes,
a tribute to the woman he once loved
and the daughter he didn't father.
He doesn't talk about those times
or of hearts destroyed,
and he still won't use
a gas stove
even to bake chocolate chip cookies
for rowdy grand-kids
who bounce on his furniture and hang
on his word.
And he manages.
He would have been the greatest
of the titans leading the revolution
before he became a minor character
in his own story.
He accepted mediocr
Aniseed.the shower; your hair looksAniseed.4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
boyish and light
and I, and we
the same space, time,
body beneath water;
and I love you, I
love you, I love
anything I can
and will grasp
but I forgot to say,
I was forbidden,
from you --
because mother found out,
and spat crimes and
my mind and
I could leave, I should
run, run from home because
my ankle is better now
and I know about children,
I know about intelligence
but I want to run
away, away and love you
and I swore, to her I
did and mentioned
whatever I fucking
Guilty, oh, I am
for loving you
it hurts but you
couldn't leave so you
gave me your jumper;
because there are
spiders in my
and for my birthday,
you'd buy me opals but
the list will read:
i. to spend the night wrapped in his arms.
TearsCrying is a gift whenTears5 years ago in Other More Like This
you are sad.
It takes away the guilt of almost
Crying is a way of showing pain.
Crytle droplets flowing
from anothers cheeks.
Light refecting off
crystle spheres alumnates
Another sits beside them shareing
A photo drops along with crystile spheres
at ones feet.
Small children glare
curled up in a corner.
A young man walk in
slaming the front door
The room turns.
Will we ever know what happened.
Riverbank DovesHer pale fingertips, lithe and limber, and born to dance across ivory and ebony, were intertwined with a red silk ribbon, dancing across the sky, and whispering to the clouds. She carried a white dove on that string with her, wings the color of frostbitten windowpanes. Walking, with bare soles across the eastern riverbank of wave kissed pebbles, she carried that small prospect of peace with her, wondering where home was if her heart had no place.Riverbank Doves4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The shore told her stories of other souls that had walked the same banks, tales that curved through history books and hourglasses. Her dove, the shade of the moon, sweeping it navy velvet overcoat over its shoulders, played in the long grass, crying for distant places and lost homes that only came to it in dreams. The girl learned to mimic the moans that the bird let out, so that her own sobs could be covered by the blanket of the bird's mournful songs.
Nighttime came for the pair, when the traffic slowed to only the rare streak of light in th
skywritingThey say that in the ancient daysskywriting4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
writing on sky was commonly done
And yet in these old modern times
we no longer write, but simply haze.
pale moonshine lustre lost in dullest grey
how I wish that we descendents
had still some beautiful words to say
to write within
the untouchable sky
We are DisturbedSights and sounds and thoughts and heartsWe are Disturbed4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Have all begun to fall apart
It's like an explosion when we touch
Is it possible to be in love this much?
Let's burn to the ground, this city of pain
Let's make sure they know that we are insane
With a 'Do Not Disturb' sign on my door
Who could really ask for more?
This world is starting to drive us mad
This game we play isn't half bad
Running with scissors at the speed of sound
If we bump our heads, we'll surely drown
The crazy in us has begun to stir
We are disturbed, we always were
With this 'Do Not Disturb' sign on my heart
I have been hopeless from the start.
laced boot ladyI was just seventeenlaced boot lady4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
child of honeybees
I startled easily
before you found me
fed up on pretty things
you were a lovely dream
starved for actuality
I sought in you
I was a child-teen
loved by air, dust, and gleams
I bruised easily
you had your way with me
left me behind quickly
but you don't see
you were a light-feather
drowned in tar and severed
from a childhood of shadows
imagining lives living
full, happy, so lonely
I won't be tempered
for the flame's left me
and you had your way with me
I won't be swayed 'gain so completely
when you return to me,
I'll be a laced boot lady,
heart tucked carefully
Just Hear Me Out? Click.i.Just Hear Me Out? Click.4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Before I met you, I was a 100 piece puzzle still in its plastic covering. Now I'm down to 84 pieces and 2 corners are missing and I'm scared the next girl will give me one look and decide I'm not worth it.
You took out a 6 month warranty on me and I should have taken that as a hint but i never was good at the game Clue or reading bet thelines ween. You traded me in with 6 days left on your investment but they wouldn't give you a full refund because they realized I was no longer in mint condition. Truth is, I never was. You just have a knack for making my faults stick out more than my emaciated ribcage.
Tomorrow I think I might go and take out a life insurance policy on myself just to see how much I'm worth these days. I have a feeling it will be somewhere in between a couple Alexander Hamilton's and a handful of Benjamin Franklin's, but I always liked Einstein more than Franklin anyways. Franklin gave you the ability to see my imperfections more clearly and Einstein gave yo