Crash And BurnI wonder if other people see how I feel.Crash And Burn2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
With every glare to meet my eyes,
its another preying glare to slap my face
and another glare that heats my cheeks with nervous fire
I wonder if, day after day,
if people see my fear, if they see how I shake.
When they walk by, I stumble away
because I know they don't want me near them.
I wonder if they pity me
If they see the lonely child inside my glass skin.
Sometimes they give me gentle eyes
because they feel sorry for how lonley I really am inside.
I wonder if they know I don't fit in,
if they try to welcome me but I'm too naive to see.
But everytime I just walk away because-
because everytime I try is another crash and burn.
The Birth of WaterThe clouds swelled and strolled across the sky like great grey whales making an annual trek across a placid black ocean. Wind, the force that was herding the clouds along, was also nipping and pinching frigidly at the bare skin of my back. The skies blinked once--twice in a row, a three second show of purple light. My head tilted back, my eyebrows lifted like kites on my face. I watched the sky with eager longing. Another flash of purple lightning. Mother Nature was teasing me. The clouds were pregnant with the ocean's child, and I was humbly waiting, shirtless in the parking lot, for them to give birth to the desert rain.The Birth of Water2 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Stolen KissI wish I was a poem. I wish I could be summed in three stanzas and bring shimmering relief to literature students on dreary Monday mornings. I wish to be the sugar they sprinkle into tea they drink from carnival glass to make them relax. If only they could read and have me brush along their jawlines, tingle in their fingertips like the lit fuse on a firecracker. If they read me aloud I would taste of pureed flowers, frost thin and light with marigold their every spoken word.Stolen Kiss2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
(College tastes like burnt bagels and monsters. It’s wanting to run forever, but being unable to move. The lines are too long. Too slow. Sleep sticks like peanut butter to everyone’s brains and lashes. They’re zombies because they know the end is near, shuddering in panic from winter chills and confusion, so desperate for some meaning.)
I asked one of these people, a tattooed girl, if I could taste her breath. “Sorry, I’ve just run out,” she said, hot steam from her sweat misting
Tea TimeTo meTea Time2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
tea tastes timeless,
like lingering hope;
taste telling stories
of times long past,
forgotten memories brought back,
mirrored in black
English Breakfast Tea.
Falling In Love.Glaciers of nitroglycerinFalling In Love.2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Stampede in an inch
And crush the bass drum
In my rhythmic organs.
This creeping volley;
An ethereal blanket-
Like an armless embrace
With a black hole.
And cinnamon lilies
Of such uncertainty.
Descending like honey
Into that warm abyss.
In The Night Time. I kiss infinityIn The Night Time.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Her lips are full
They're not chains
Or pitied shelter
For lost angels
Are our song
Stars You breathed in the robust idea of being aloneStars2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in the milky way with nothing on your back
but the silk cloth of skin
and you exhaled the heroic sovereignty of saving
the poor polluted starlight,
cradling sweet nothings about how those
luminous explosions in the sky were
the iridescent threads and ribbons
that kept our planets gently knit together.
You told me the galaxy was filled
with incandescent jewels
things like topaz encrusted souls
and cosmic layers of adoration made of
bright celestial spirits.
You had whispered your final
words with the quiet sublteness
of a moon just passing by,
saying or rather deciding that
"Stars are just diamonds with a lightbulbs intentions."
Music is throughSoft keys give way to your feather light fingersMusic is through2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Paper-thin cuts rock and ivory like half-molten butter
(you and the barely-there tap of your nails, the eerie clicks that do not echo but nonetheless linger)
convince it to sound like
a voluntary death, a willing surrender,
instead of mere sweet murder
Perhaps you have put this same spell over me
You’d play; I’d listen,
Sitting enchanted and near enough to see how the light breaks on your hair the same way your fingers build and break,
Create and abandon
Cherish and spurn like overstrained lovers
Your favourite was the fresh twitter of staccato notes
Mine, the release of the pedal, the steady thump of a beating heart
On the bus, I sawyou, across from meOn the bus, I saw2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
'right' to be a stranger-
& public transport are
on uneven terms, so
we start a game
you throw me your eyes, only
to have them thrown back
it's called 'bullseye'
because this dance-
of near misses
& stolen glance
makes us guilty of
red in shared blushes
(& horns in my pants)
stranger, there will come a time
you arrest me-
to remain strange
& your permit to
bulldoze my heart.
To contain them...Words are but emotion, finally contained.To contain them...2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
~My six word story
SeptemberSummer is coming to its end.September1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
The days are getting shorter,
Losing their color...
I need to get home.
Though I must admit,
There’s a certain beauty about it.
Living in soft-focus;
The autumn colors blurring together gently,
My not-quite-leaden heart still trying desperately
To keep pace with my mind.
It’s almost as refreshing as it is bleak.
So I’ll come back to familiar.
I’ll come back home.
I like it here, you know.
However cheerless it is to stay here,
However heartrendingly numb it makes me feel,
I’ll take this over the terrifying prospect of change, any day.
It’s a twisted sort of solace I get from this place.
And I’ve learned to take that wherever I can get it.
Even if it’s here.
Even if it’s home.
The Strawberry EroticYour eyes,The Strawberry Erotic6 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
reflect the surface
of my skin,
so vibrantly red and ready
Shall we begin?
they part to reveal everything
your tongue it dances
They are everything.
It's not just the taste,
it's the way I feel
so soft yet ridges
And still you're letting me
I'm not going anywhere.
Your hands cupped,
you hold me in the air.
For a moment a fruit can fly.
can be your pleasure
as I slip away.
Nibble by bite,
your hunger obey.
Your pleasure I want
And you, can have all of me.
And you, can devour me sweetly.
And you, with your teeth can tear me apart.
And you, can have all of me.
And you, can fall asleep with me.
And you, can remember the taste.
DaphneOh baby please don'tDaphne2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
And look at me,
Look at me please,
I'm so sorry
Don't scream, oh
Come on baby
You know me,
You love me,
I've always been
Good to you
You love me right?
I know it hurts,
And I didn't mean
For it to come to this
Let me help you
Pull up your jeans
Pull down your shirt
Oh I'm sorry baby,
Didn't mean to
Get your clothes all dirty
And is that blood?
Did I do that?
Oh baby p
Recycled. Apparently dumpstersRecycled.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Warm to you
(Only at 3am when
they're full of
Put my junk in there?
I was going to but-
It's full of garbage anyway.
birthmarks/scarslet me just lay my head downbirthmarks/scars2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
on your shoulder, trace
your birthmark again..
and your hair will tickle me
because you haven't cut it
in a while..
i'll pretend not to see
the scar on your foot
from when i broke you,
and you can pretend not to notice
how much i say your name
just let me draw you
in a hundred poses,
and don't get mad when
i paint your toenails while you're sleeping..
and we can tell that story
- to each other, of course -
about the angel and the purple girl
(who finally decided
her favorite color)
while you twirl my hair,
and always make up the ending:
'..and one day
they got a house on the beach,
because that's what she wanted..'
your eyes are always so yellow
when the sun is setting
'..and he painted the whole world
different colors just for her.'
headaches are a habitthe things i thinkheadaches are a habit2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
have stopped making sense
to anyone but you,
and maybe its because
you have to witness my nightmares or maybe
because my tears have dried
on your skin -
across the bridge of your nose,
like places we talked about jumping from
and now headaches are a habit;
thunder is relief
among the morning birds singing out
Fight or Flight?I have just a moment, one tiny moment to prepare. I meet his gaze from across the room and my response is instantaneous. My eyes dilate, heart racing, muscles tensing and a blush across my cheeks. He smirks, probably thinking I’m aroused.Fight or Flight?2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
In a way, he's right.
Fight or Flight?
I feel like an animal in this moment, like a rat who will try to escape when threatened and only fight if cornered. Perhaps I could stand perfectly still or play dead in hopes that my predator loses interest...
I rather wish I was a fish right now- one that could swim away or change color to camouflage myself.
And therein lays the problem. I am not entirely sure I what I want.
Oh yes, I want him. His allure is like none another before and that scares me. He makes me want things I've never wanted before. He's young and cocky, ruggedly handsome, someone who I thought was so beyond me. Someone who makes me feel beautiful and sexy, wanted.
And I hardly know him...
What am I doing here?
A Shoe TaleA Shoe Tale2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Mister Lacey and miss Ribbon were a pair of red shiny shoes living in a boxful of dreams, on cloud-coated linens. One May day, a little girl found them sleeping next to each other, and she loved them so much that she took them out for an afternoon walk, sometimes tituppy, sometimes gingerly, on the sundressed alleys. Mister Lacey and miss Ribbon were cheerful, as they had never breathed such a crisp air before, and the chill of those spring days, after a good sturdy rain, was daintly tickling their soles, growing goosebumps on their skin.
The little girl was bursting with fidgetness. When she stopped to bathe in a tiny oasis, she briskly took off her shoes and left them on the dewy grass. Mister Lacey and miss Ribbon were slightly afraid, as gloomy spiders and frowning mosquitoes were tamelessly rumbling around them. They cuddled tightly, to make the fear go away, like salt in a desert storm. The fear started to vanish itself, as the two realized that they were not alone. They were a p
Reverenceyoung girlsReverence4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Untitledi woke up achingUntitled2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
with the promise of the day but
curled my stuttering body
around your heart
and your yellow sundress -
messy hair and wings,
i woke with
lingers of my haunts:
screaming inside-out terror
and longing; i woke
to find you here and