The Problem With Elia.she could have been a violin;The Problem With Elia.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
born a week too late, she had
melancholy in her bones: doctor lizbet
took time out of her schedule to pluck her
newborn strings - calloused sanitation against
mottled pink-and-yellow flesh & thrashing limbs.
in three more years, she will have
nothing in her bones at all: doctor estair
diagnosed her with iatrophobia to fuel her
instinctive chords - ripple-free shells of liquid
lobotomy & a capsule to callous her pink-and-yellow
flesh against the thought of just getting over it all.
ten years after that, her mother will
find her face down and thrashing: her dust
bunny bones will flex as she retches up her memories
for display - lawyers will spend the next few years pawing
through them with clawed hands and heaving breathing until
one day, they find lizbet and estair huddled amid the rubble of her bones.
Slow, LoveI am a box of bones; attic-drenched,Slow, Love2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
gathered in the grief of storms.
I am a catalogue
of failures, listed alphabetically
for ease of use; God knows
why, since no one ever looks
beneath the covers.
BitterDusk wrapped us in its ephemeral eternity; moments that lingered before their passing. In their wake, memories would flutter into the distance of remembrance. The ambiguity of time would distort the details, but we still remember the small little things like the date, the shorts she wore, and how water was cold at first and then warm.Bitter6 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
It was April 22nd and we decided to go bathe in the river behind my house. Though the path was treacherous, we made it down the muddy slope in one piece. Covered in mud, twigs and wet with sweat, we sank like stones into the water. We mingled with the rocking currents, dissipated into the breeze.
Sometimes, shed come up and sit on a lime-covered stone. Leaning forward with elbows propped on her knees, she offered me smiles while her tee cupped her breast in place. Kiss me, shed say and Id oblige. Her breath tasted like the river and her lips had the same texture as rippling waves. They brushed and pushed, pulled li
Temporary EtherealityTemporary Ethereality4 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
One moment you're there,
Bringing beauty to my life.
Next moment you're gone,
Leaving me here, all alone
To cope in this hard, grey world.
Technicolor ClosetsI can get married.Technicolor Closets2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
There are wars outside these walls
where children lay on sidewalks
and are thrown to the ground
with insults and slurs,
riddling their bodies
and the monumental step
mankind has to offer me
is my marriage.
than that of the state
preventing me from being in a union with my partner
recognized by both God and law
I wonder if it even matters
that my rights
are being debated
when there are people
still being hurt by the words of
those who run this society
cisgendered, privileged males
who tell me what to do
with my body
regardless of my gender,
regardless of my race,
we are all below the white, upper class, straight man
Do you ever wonder why I sound so bitter?
Do you ever wonder why I get sad?
My school district was a battleground
the bombs always went off and
at the end of the day, the school
only took a neutral stance on my sex
My heart over you'reMy heart2 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
takes my When with
smile lips me,
a . my
i was real, oncei.i was real, once2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you told me once
that dreams never really take flight.
that their gossamer wings splinter into
on the harsh planes of reality,
and as i stretch out my fingers and touch
finger tip to claw tip;
a tenuous grasp with the fragments of
what was once
i think that you were right.
i carve prehistoric, cave man sketches into my skin
and hope and against hope that these dragons and dreams will bear wings
[and together we will shine]
but i just can't win because the universe
match each other step for step, move for move
and the chess pieces of our eternal game shatter
as the knight moves to E3 and claims
the crown of a fallen king.
[together we'll illuminate a world]
i heard you speak but i pretended to hear only
the rush of passing memory as you asked
"Why won't you love me?"
[it's can't not won't]
the only question that ever really mattered
and i turn and wonder when my world became
saturated with thoughts as du
BrailleI can't read you by sight,Braille2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I don't remember which arm
Your birthmark is on,
Or the number of freckles
On your face.
But by night I learned
Your Braille by heart,
A secret language
Hidden by touch.
I don't remember the exact
Hue of your eyes,
But I remember
Your skin under mine.
Hearing Half of a Conversation Forgive me for helping you understandHearing Half of a Conversation1 year ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
you’re not made of words alone.
—Roque Dalton; Clandestine Poems
I first learned how to build a house of playing cards in an adolescent psychiatric unit in suburban Chicago. A roommate taught me a trick, a mindset really, to have while placing the cards themselves— that a house of cards is always stacked against itself to stand. My trial-and-error attempts led to a lengthy row of playing cards
an apology will never be enough for thisthe first time i saw you naked the scars brought me to my kneesan apology will never be enough for this2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and left me holding an ocean of my own making in shaking hands.
there were less here than there were on your limbs
but these no longer had stories.
you had forgotten them,
lost them within your own folds
and never thought to lure them back out with the temptation of repair.
you had created your very own tribe of lost children
and i could not bear the weight of them pressing into my thighs
when you told me you wanted to forget (again).
.i think.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the reason i'm asexual
is because there's so much more to us
and i can't help
but to see all of it,
why you can't see what i do.
we are so much greater
than a mess of sweaty limbs
and desperate breaths,
made atop the sheets,
and i'm so much deeper
than a few choking syllables,
and it's not my fault
that you can't see that.
All the Things You Never KnewIt was your favorite thing to say. “We know everything about each other. Not just the good things, but even the bad ones. We have no secrets.” And the way your eyes lit up when you said it, how your arm would curl around my shoulders and squeeze me against you… I couldn’t say anything. I promised myself that I would when we were alone, but the moment always seemed wrong and eventually the fact that I still had secrets became a secret itself.All the Things You Never Knew2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
It turns out I wasn’t the only one.
I never told you about the crying or the cutting or the nights I spent awake staring at the bottle of pills. I was terrified it would be too much for you to handle, so I didn’t mention the time I ran away, or the first time I ended up in the hospital. I locked the memories up in a box inside my head with “For Tom, to open later” written on the outside.
And you, in turn, never told me about the cancer, fearing it would be too much for me to handle. Well, you were ri
Malalai heard a child scream once,Malala5 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
and it was the sound of Algebra,
the Cold War,
but also a mango seed
scraping wood to etch grammar rules.
my privilege mirrors bomb threats.
i have three dream catchers in my room,
all of which were created by foreign hands.
my hands tell a well-kept secret,
notebook paper and straight-edged rulers,
pencils with erasers attached.
the mango falls from the tree and the tree
understands its nakedness.
the student drops out of school and the school
understands its cut budget.
Malala nearly died for her right to literacy.
who am i, insignificant, ignorant,
to rebel against a system whose brokenness
is so manically coveted?
Please,don’t make mePlease,2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
fall in love with you,
I don’t want to remember you,
those Sunday morning
or the way your
lost boy eyes always,
always found a way
to find mine.
There are only so many times
I can allow you to slice
through my scar tissue
before I finally
I Am FlawedFrom body to soul and in between,I Am Flawed2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
They blotch the parchment that is me;
I know of worse flaws I have seen,
I am flawed.
I sometimes lose my temper,
Use my mouth before my mind;
I ponder things I could do better,
And regret them for a time.
I can be harsh, I can be blunt,
I tend to hide my thoughts;
But this is far from what I want:
To be in someone's heart.
Comparisons are hard to make
Since we are all unique.
But half the time my words are fake;
The real me is a freak.
These flaws define me, describe me—
They make me what I am.
In that light, I'm proud to say that
I'm Here Don't Cry I need you...I'm Here Don't Cry2 years ago in Drama More Like This
She looked out the window as snow began to fall. The clear white flakes drifted softly upon the house, sticking to the windows and melting as her hot breath dissolved them from the inside. Her palm flattened against the glass, her lips pressed in a thin line.
Where are you...
Two children played around inside, one giggling and running from an Arcanine, who quickly caught her and nuzzled her stomach with his nose. The other, a seven year old with the rim of his glasses pushed far up the bridge of his nose, sketched out the happy scene for future reviews of it.
The last child sat on her lap, his innocent blue eyes searching the street, his mouth parted, hot breaths fogging up the window.
"Momma, when is datty coming home?", he whimpered.
She brought him into a tight embrace, him keeping his eyes fixated on a point on the other side of the glass
Just Say It To My FaceJust Say It To My Face2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Just Say It To My Face
Just tell me- Just say it to my face
Have I done something wrong?
We haven't talked for so long
Even a hello or a hi
I'm too used to goodbye
Now, Come here:
Is It because of the clothes that I wear?
Or the way I do my hair?
And look at me :
Look me in the eye
So I'm sure it's not a lie
Then tell me:
Don't text me, don't call me, don't write me a song
I just really want to know....if I've done something wrong
Just tell me- Just say it to my face
Now come here,
And look at me,
Then tell me,
Have I done something wrong?
We all make mistakes
We haven't talked for so long
We all have those days.
Just tell me- Just say it to my face
The bathroom can be great place for inspiration ;>.
His Blackberry Rock and Roll DreamsThe quail rain hits the glass and splits in half against the windowpaneHis Blackberry Rock and Roll Dreams2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
while you're sprawled on the cloud grey mattress, idling smoking a cigarette.
We are in a green room at the La Quinta motel near a sunburned Texas highway.
We do this sometimes; drive away from our respective hometowns and pretend
we're different people with movie-type of stories.
Perhaps it's immature but for a few bank-robbed
moments,we are not lying just to breathe easily.
You understand why my father might disown me and extend a hand, saying,
"Come here," very quietly as if there's a secret in that whisper only
I can detect because we made it up together one wasted September
between rusted cars, long, untamed grass and
my aqua scarf draped across your flesh.
I accept your invitation and sit on the bed,
despite the stress rolling off my toxic body.
"Someday we'll leave for real," you declare
and I think, "Will you still want me then?
When your fingertips have left shadows on my stomach
and our lips have forgotte
Triple SatTriple Sat: Three Tables in Three ActsTriple Sat5 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Triple Sat (Verb): A restaurant term where a host/hostess seats three tables consecutively to one server. The server, while still smiling politely, runs around frantically trying to be in three places at once. It's not pretty, the guests feel like they received bad service, and usually said host/hostess gets cursed at behind his or her back for the rest of the night. This also comes in other forms such as "double sat", a frustrating but manageable situation, and "quad sat", which means find a manager for help A.S.A.P. and cross fingers the host/hostess loses his or her job.
Other things to take note of: serving is judging the tables. The last time you visited a restaurant you might have been judging the server, but rest assured the server was judging you. You are just what they happen to catch when they are at your table or walking by. I serve, observe, and fulfill, but never get attached. I rarely catch a custo
PressurePressure:Pressure2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You try to breathe, but you're barely breathing,
You can't think clearly; you can barely speak.
Your mind is filled with needless thoughts.
Your cheeks are red and feverish...
You know what you must do,
But you can't bring yourself to do it.
Instead you jump into a thousand distractions...
Mindlessly seeking the thrill of the 'anything',
You cringe at the progress of time on the clock.
And with lips gone dry from an internal hell-fire
You continue to evade what you cannot face...
-Chen Yuan Wen, 22nd June 2013