let go, little bird--hope is the tired little bird at the bottom of your heart, the one whose tiny wings are broken and bleeding, the one that won't stop flapping uselessly at the sky, like it's going to take off, take off dammit, even when it's fading by the second and dying in a heap of feathers, and it breaks your heart to see the optimistic flame still sparkling in such innocent eyes.let go, little bird--5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i'm writing this to tell you that i don't know what i need. i'm writing this because i can't pull any fancy metaphors from the back of my throat to save my pride this time. i'm writing this to see the look on your face when you wake up and wonder why i keep running away.
hope is the thing with feathers, my broken baby bird. hope is the trust in those newborn eyes that makes you burst out sobbing although you never know why. it's the razor-sharp edge between happiness and pain, the line you try to fly on crippled wings, my little bird, just to save someone stronger from having to walk it for themselves.
No Pictures Left to HangShe was three hundred school lunches, and one thousand, ninety-nine days of mooching off of her friends' snack packs, and four hundred more spent shushing her screaming intestines.No Pictures Left to Hang6 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
She was one sick day of flu carried over from the weekend. She was two bottles of cough medicine and toomanyadvilstocount. She was her mother's free time spent mopping up puddles of fresh puke.
She was sick.
She was sixteen birthdays, fifteen Christmases, and one hundred ninety-eight presents all specially chosen for the smile on her face that was never there.
She was ten months of pregnancy and two months of getting there. She was twelve pills of Viagra swallowed with tap water. She was a trip to the baby section of Target and her parents' obvious beams at the checkout. She was a horde of pink things, now neatly folded and put away in the attic.
She was never what anyone expected, including herself.
She was a second glance in the mirror.
She is four closebutnotcloseenough friends, two supportive parents, an
to the boy with ghost handsdear boy with the ghost hands.to the boy with ghost hands4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you are in my bones, sir.
waiting beneath my pale skin
inside the charcoal grey
leaving me to feel you
send morse code vibrations
throughout my entire body
leaving me speechless
my bones are asphalt grey
but with a hopeful
but with you here
it never stops raining
and i now know
what drowning feels like
but you still wont leave.
even with these raging waters.
you float and carry on
though to another part of me.
just re locating.
please, the rains getting
to heavy and my lungs are collapsing
and i cannot breathe.
from the girl who cannot let you go anyway.
stars fade to blueit was past 2 am when i came up with the linestars fade to blue4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
[2:25:08 AM] Vie: i should write a poem about my favourite hater
she typed back
'You should. You really seem to have a lot to say about him'
what he does is what he does
now that i think about it honesty is what he does
i like making excuses for boys i like
because i want people to like them too
but i never was one for making excuses for him
he may be a bitch, but he doesn't lie
he's got baggage, he loves blondes,
gotta thing for drugs and has short
affairs with sleep
there isn't one person he's nice to
for too long
just because of his own insecurities.
writer's block got me facing off against
all my demons. i don't even have my words
to fight with. the past couple months have
been tick-tocking torture for sake of
biting my tongue and holding my habits.
i can't write fancy unless i'm in love.
so the only ink i spill is truth.
i live like a poor princess on the edge of town
somewhere between classy and trashy,
feigning the problems of
i left my heart in haiti.and so iti left my heart in haiti.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
[like everything else.]
was torn down,
shattered on the
i bought seven
cans of hope, and bet
them all on horse number
[like everything i've ever put my hope in.]
decided to fail me
i broke out of
your loosely colored wall
treason, so i
[i was never good at taking orders.]
and i swore nothing
could stop me
try to tear
me down, but we
both know i'm
[other then obvious.]
liar, and that any
sense of truth i
left at baggage
shoot a blackbirdshoot a blackbirdshoot a blackbird5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and take down the stars
crush them pearls
and mix them with your teeth
rotting and slowly tick tocking
your way to a dream you wish
you could dream
wish your way to a wish
that could have happened
but not in our lifetime.
not when you're not sure whether
you're dreaming or not
and i don't know whether i'm
living or not
he asked me if he could make things
and i tried to say 'maybe'
but i choked
i handed him what i had left
and told him to piece it together
i can only trust him
but if he breaks it
i'll be just as fine as i was
his caged birds don't singit was like when we were fivehis caged birds don't sing6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and unable to drown the fish
in your mothers aquarium.
we later realized that we could drown them.
we could do so by taking them out of water
and we did.
it was like when we were ten
and i would find you in the backyard
of your moss-covered house,
sitting on a lawn chair with bare feet
and rolled up jeans.
you would sit there all day,
filling plain paper with pictures and words
that no one would ever understand.
it was like when we were fifteen
and you would spend your time standing
as close to the cliff as you could without falling
but i think you were secretly hoping
that someday youd slip.
it was like today
when you were finally the first to look away.
what do you want most? you once asked.
back then i wanted a lot of things.
i wanted to believe that sex was only science,
like you did.
i wanted to live in a world where nameless,
faceless people could pretend
they were something more than no
in the bathroom sinkan island,in the bathroom sink4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you've built your own world here
a shelter, insignificant and
light, white and
ready to evaporate,
feet in the bathroom sink
reading books of boys in love
and soft, deep eyes
like wells and
the bottom of the ocean.
floating thirty thousand feet above yourself
your island is a bubble about to burst,
words in the wind,
hide from the sea
and you hide from yourself.
his hands are not like yoursii.his hands are not like yours3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i cannot remember
what i should not forget
you are nothing, now,
peeling back layers
of bone. your hands--
and steel-edged gilding--
pry me apart
& i break
The Murmurs Left BehindLook away,The Murmurs Left Behind7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Because you never know the power something has over you
Until its long gone and you cant even remember their face
Not soon after the once treasured string that bound us together
Is snipped by our own unknowing hands.
Because I couldnt stand you seeing this face
Once so warm and full of your affections
Now rotted by time, and the loss of you
-The only thing that ever made Hades into hell.-
Because no matter how delicately you play such music
There is no strength in your will,
And that will surely be the death of me
And once was already too much for either of us to bear.
Because as kind and well meaning as you were
You were still just a lyre in the end
Because not listening to the rules, was the line
That youll pray you never crossed.
Because now that weve swayed the beast
The most painful part of losing
Would be the knowing it was so simple
To just do it the way we were supposed to.
my introduction left holesI crave the feel of your scent between my fingertips and the angle at which lust lingers on your lips. I make stars clash in my eyes because darling innocence is a virtue but not as fun as sin. Rip the sun from its chains in the sky. We already shine enough for the moon anyway.my introduction left holes4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"Gosh, I'm sorry." Your weight against my arm singed like you were still there. I just needed your touch again. I guess all contact leaves its mark. I know I left mine on you.
"Are you okay?" My silence was disturbing you. I have a gift for that. I can unsettle someone until their core shatters, and they're picking at their skin on the ground like starving pigeons. Your smile illuminated my hunger for your affection, and you never knew. You initiated the game with a brush of your shoulder and baby I never lose.
My fragile limbs scale your calloused skin. I was never good with introductions. They slide down my throat and echo in the hollows of my lungs. Imcarterit'snicetomeetyouwowyoureyesaresoblue con
confessions in a crowded placei. When I was with youconfessions in a crowded place1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
I could not write about
love in any tense.
ii. I'm a mess
because of you.
iii. Somedays I think that
I don't remember how
your smile tilted
slightly to the right.
iv. There are more days
when I wish I could forget.
of abandoned tea partiesi:of abandoned tea parties6 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
we are fresh mown grass and the first stars to come out and
fireworks in the rain and gently washed jackets. we are
piano melodies drifting from the house-next-door and
we are government conspiracies and laughing at fireflies and
black-blue-and-purple on pale skin. we are trying not to fall off the edge
even as we promise others that we'll be at the bottom to catch them.
we are embers lying in the dewy grass and the lone cricket in the background
and leftover play dough sticking to your fingers.
we are notes to children we are not going to have and letters to your mother
that aren';t going to be read and flames burning patterns into our fingertips.
we are abandoned tea parties with the dolls sitting in the chairs at nightfall
and unanswered text messages and faint whispers of iloveyou
from the room across the hall. we are staying up late to finish poems no one
cares about and passages from ancient books that no one opens and
the last piece i ever write about you.it's ironic, y'know? i started going to therapy in april because of you. i thought you were going to leave me. no. not even that. i thought you were going to abandon me. i thought you were going to just pack up your shit in the middle of the night and just walk out that door while i was still sleeping.the last piece i ever write about you.3 years ago in Emotional More Like This
so i stopped sleeping. but that wasn't healthy.
so i started sleeping on the couch with my head in your lap. you couldn't leave if i was holding you. right? but instead you would just wake me up in the middle of the night and usher me back into my bedroom.
so i started sleeping with my door wide open. i thought i'd be able to hear you packing up your shit. i thought i'd be able to hear you leaving. i thought i'd be able to stop you.
and now, it's february, and i'm staying over at his house, wrapped up in his arms, pressed against his chest, laughing and kissing and coyote fingers trotting down skin, and i'm not losing my breath over when things don't go my way anymore, i'm not crying any
140 CharactersMy life in blurbs. Follow, retweet.140 Characters4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
you lied the night you kissed me.there is a thick exhaustion in the pit of my stomach, spreading to my shouldersyou lied the night you kissed me.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
till they hang and to my knees until they buckle. and I will sleep for days on end,
and when I wake up I didn't really.
I hate you dear, I hate you so.
because there is so much to do, I could travel to the other side of the country and
paint a portrait of a stranger and I could sit on top of someone's roof and look at the
stars with a boy I don't want to know and I could fall asleep in his bed and listen to
him playing guitar without clothes and he'd take me out for diner and anywhere I'd
want to go and we'd have sex in his car and on the trampoline in my back yard and
we'd eat at my grandparents with Christmas and it would never be enough because
he's everything you weren't.
I think I lost myself, I think I fell out that time you ran away holding onto me and my
skin tore. I looked for her in that empty hole in your chest cavity, but all I found was
lost so long ago, and you wouldn't show me where it went b
the oracle card in my pocketthe man i love is anthe oracle card in my pocket5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
old soul with a stunning mouth and
he gathers up pieces of me into
his hands and carries me to bed.
i am not splotched ink and tallied memoryiii.i am not splotched ink and tallied memory3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to all i endured,
unclothed, i wear (still)
ragged designs of ink
thrown at a canvas &
lines carved-- a prisoner's
tally of time.
stumbling over the
caverns and crags
of my skin,
your eyes travel
in halting progression--
[the crawl of a climber
down, down, down]
i feel your stutters,
a shivering- first
along one arm--
[almost a polka-dot
tap dance taking in
splotched ink and
then an intensification
of graveyard fever
upon the other--
[dash past the ink &
exhume the feeling
beneath the sleeve].
it is a shame
(and your loss)--
you cannot see the woman
beneath these scars.
a love story you don't want.january: she wasnt ready to be serious with him so she left at exactly twelve oh one on new years day with a few words. he kept saying that this was going to be their year and she just said: piss off.a love story you don't want.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
february: the words still stuck in his head even as he pretended to forgive her and took her back. he feared another painful goodbye.
march: she was never good with saying what she truely meant and he never looked deep into words so when she said "i don't love you." he took it as "i don't love you." and not as "i don't know how to love anyone." which was what she wanted to say.
april: the snow had melted away and they were hanging on by last strings. every day was a question of whether today would be the last.
may: she fell apart when her hamster died and he was there through the whole thing.
june: the death of her hamster silenced her but she visited with him more. she never wanted to be alone.
july: as they watched fire works together on fourth of july, he kept looking over at her wonde
You let men lay on youDon't give me that bullshit aboutYou let men lay on you7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
being a goddess, you let men lay on you.
your teeth are falling out, one by one. don't swallow the fluoride.
don't swallow the anesthetics. you gave him both of your kidneys.
you are dying with bruises on your shoulders and you are dying
without a spine and you are dying.
he buried your mouth in the gutter, he threw your bowels
in the streets and the dogs fought over them. you told me
you just wanted to die with a little dignity. This is not honor;
a pitbull chewing on your large intestine.
The dogs are howling while you let men lay on you.
i will be a birdit is the day before christmas and she's waking up her car. the windows are frosted over and the car seat is freezing beneath her. she sits up and opens the door. outside it is windy and she feels goodebumps run up her spine. her fingernails are digging into the cold skin on her bare legs and she's on the verge of tears. she doesn't cry though. she never, ever cries.i will be a bird6 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
it is three days after chrismas and she's laying in her back yard on patches of dead grass, shaking. she's shrouded in coats and blankets but its raining and once the water seeps through the cotton it clings to her skin. she's drinking champage mixed with rain water from a paper cup and she's imagining that this is how she'd like to die. cold and lonely, waiting for the morning sun.
its the last night before the new year and she's not watching television. she's sitting in front of it though, and letting the noise wash over her. it's almost like white noise. she's somewhere else though, she's imagining that her family a
We're All Made From Broken PartsThe Clockmaker sighed wiping sweat from his brow. He was working diligently yet he was having trouble perfecting his newest project. The job was the same as usual but he was always trying to make each creation perfect, he never succeeded. After all, how could he make a perfect being from these old broken parts. But he had used up all of his fresh parts generations ago. Perhaps it was time to stop working for a while.We're All Made From Broken Parts2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The Clockmaker got up walking through his workspace. It was filled with piles and piles of gear and broken parts. It was all organized in such a way that an average person who didn’t work there would never guess at it’s neatness. But The Clockmaker loved his system, after all, he had had all of time to perfect it. As he walked along, his laboratory changed, instead of the piles of gears there were many other things, piles of what looked like skin fur and hair, eyes and organs as well. For, you see The Clockmaker didn’t make clocks. Long ago he had, and he
dreams catch in the lungsby the window she sat with cold umbrella bones, laying there just staring at the wooden ceiling. she thought each breath was dying to escape [clogging her littlepores in glassy skin] as they struggled to come slipping out of her mouth. it was like spirits and ghosts in all those books of witches and warlocks, when they came back to the world through the mouth of another.dreams catch in the lungs5 years ago in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
dangling from the crossbeam was a blue beaded dreamcatcher, but she knew it caught hearts and souls in its web and never let them free
[right then she was just so soulless . heartless (like she couldn't feel the breeze or the warm summer leaves) and she knew the dreamcatcher would never catch the nightmares or bring dreams to dancing life. she knew all her fears would happen every day but all she ever wanted would never come to her (they would float along outside the window just behind the glass; she could see them watching her but they would not touch her skin and seep through just as they would not seep t