Easter (and the space of you)At 30, I chaseEaster (and the space of you)9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
cola with chocolate
and tears, and I build
a new lifeline--
the space of you
not filling, simply
(17 years of echoes
could never erase you from me
and i still look for the man
you could have been
and the boy
you never were--)
because at 13, I chased
peace, wished for
the ending of you
and it came. I opened
a new wound--
Jesus dying on the cross
and you in his arms
instead of mine.
Bury Me (In White)"I'm living backwardsBury Me (In White)9 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
so bury me
I will reclaim
The funeral is a small affair, ungarnished and over early. There mainly out of obligation and the need to be seen doing the right thing, the mourners are a motley assortment of relatives who are quick to kiss cheeks, and even quicker to take their leave. None of them felt the need to dissect this empty place in our lives that he once filled, and after only 2 hours, the only people remaining at the gravesite are myself, my sister, and the empty cage of his decaying bones, buried deeply beneath our feet.
Her fingers are swollen, like her face, and we both know she will soon follow him. "When it's my turn," she whispers, "bury me in white."
Her curls damp against her face, my sister adjusts the baby without stopping. Her feet are always in motion, as though she can build safety for this family as long as she never stays still, and all that's left for me is to watch. She is 14 years old, living her life backwa
for hummingbird lullabies--he is not the kind of boy who chases golden afternoons or dreams of things like bright red ribbons and spiderweb silence and love. he doesn't like metaphors because they never say what they mean and he doesn't like himself because he doesn't know who that is.for hummingbird lullabies--3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
sometimes he draws pictures in the sky with clouds and feels like maybe they mean something. but mostly he forgets to look up.
he likes things in neat, orderly rows. words that come in short sentences with two syllables and clear meanings, but really he doesn't like words at all. on his way home, he passes two shiny pennies, but he's not looking down so he doesn't think to pick them up.
'look,' his mother said one night, pointing at the sky, 'that's the big dipper, and there! that's orion's belt, and that's andromeda!'
but as hard as he tried, all he could see were stars, and so he stopped looking.
he doesn't believe in the magic of finding a quarter in the bottom of his pocket and spending it on gleeful gumballs in celebration; i
. . . i dreamt you were a poetearly in the blue-blood-clot morning, i traced the varicose veins down my arm, following along my skin like a coloring book, but it only lead to a battery-dead end. like how id thought we were: a dead end. but we were nothing more than varicose romance twisted, coiling, unhealthily swollen.. . . i dreamt you were a poet4 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
were abnormal, ill admit, but my basement-low bloodpressure and your self-induced peerpressure arent exactly best friends. hell, theyre not even acquaintances! theyre nothing more than varicose fantasies intertwined in my mad-dog-wild imagination my hypersomniac mindset, where i pretended you wrote me lyrical, varicose verses.
when my closet head met my discomfort pillow and my lethargic lids met rapid-eye-movement, i unrealistically piloted my paper-mache-airplane from the movie theatre to the schoolyard restaurant, but the faulty jet engine on the elevator popped my circulatory balloon. i somehow
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 holes2 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
Why fireflies never smile.I'm as restless as the weather.Why fireflies never smile.3 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
The wind hits the bus from the side, making it sway a little.
Mother Nature, cradling her children. Hah.
Sheep standing in the distance, like dandelions.
The difference between humans and sheep is that sheep can be seen as pretty flowers/weeds.
I stare at the blank pages on my lap, like that'll help fill them.
The only time I take a piece of paper with me, is when I'm uninspired.
Leaves are falling, it's like it's snowing.
I'm going to be alone for the holidays this year.
That thought annoys me. Images of myself sitting under the tree, by myself.
No one to buy a special present for.
Christmas is a lonely time if you think about it.
Sure, there'll be some relative who will get me something,
but that's not the point.
I always get these warm, fuzzy, lovely feelings that time of year.
But with no one to share them with, they turn stone cold.
Some kid on the bus is listening to a song that I really loathe.
No, no, I'm serious.
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 Hang4 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
Can't sleepCan't sleep.Can't sleep9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Can't sleep tonight.
My "friends" are back.
They tell me if I do they will kick in my door and shoot me in the face.
Or choke me to death as I sleep.
When you are asleep you are vulnerable.
I think that's why they visit at night.
Keeping me awake.
I think I know they aren't real afterwards.
In the moment I get terrified.
It's been so long since they have visited.
I almost forgot how scared they make me.
I pound caffeine to stay awake.
But mtn. dew only goes so far.
So I am typing this now.
Forgive me if I ramble I have been awake since yesterday morning.
I am so tired.
NeverendingAm I strong enough?Neverending9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
To endure this unbearable pain.
Everyday I awaken,
Stare at my reflection,
A monster stares back at me.
I will beg for an end,
or perhaps be showered in love?
Will darkness cover me,
or light release me?
In the prison of my mind,
Daddy, you've drunk enoughDaddy, you've drunk enoughDaddy, you've drunk enough10 months ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Daddy, people will laugh
Daddy, one question I ask:
Daddy... will our car crash?
I think you're too heavy, or am I too weak?
Because your weight on my arms, it's pushing down on me
And people look at us when you fall down on the street
I am ashamed, but I am still here
Daddy, why do you drink?
Daddy, is it because of me?
Daddy, did I hurt you somehow?
Answer me! I need to find out!
I feel so guilty, maybe it's my fault that I couldn't help you
Maybe if you had another child you would find a way to stop
I have dissapointed you, 'cause I'm not perfect
And it's killing me inside
Daddy, I know I'm a trash
But please, daddy, please, leave this glass!
Daddy, you're breaking my heart!
I'm so torn apart
for lack of a simile --every saturday,for lack of a simile --4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i scribble away at words
that have prettyyellowcolours, but mean nothing.
because if i told you what was true about the both of us, it would be:
we had something special,
but now it's gone.
because i don't have any clever similes about
magic and love and how fire falls into ash.
there's just me, and the page, and the stories
i tell you about how we are fire, we are the ocean
and we are the shore.
he rationed his breathshe rationed his breaths4 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
In the ICU she promised she would be back no later than July first, and of course she would visit as soon as she docked.
That was the last promise she ever made him. Her boat was delayed four days.
i want to be a real poet.i want you to know thati want to be a real poet.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you sound like the color yellow.
like sleeping hands or a
violin solo in a symphony
or cold bed sheets in the summer.
i want you to know that
i would remain for eternity if
it meant you would be there,
by my side. i could be your lover -
today, and every day.
i want you to know that
my every molecule screams out
to you. my spine is fractured and
my lungs are collapsing under the
pressure and i'm not sure
how much longer i can take this
but i guess a few more hours
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.3 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
i left my heart in haiti.and so iti left my heart in haiti.4 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
You let men lay on youDon't give me that bullshit aboutYou let men lay on you5 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.
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 lungs3 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
Found"You're nobody."Found10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Lost in worlds of 'no's and nothingness
"Something" to see inside
I looked back and found: