infinite/opposite.being an adult means knowinginfinite/opposite.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
that there are things much scarier
than spiders, or snakes, or clowns.
the ocean, for one.
losing your parents.
empty tequila bottles.
waking up, still reaching
for someone who left you
a long time ago.
i live like there’s an end for me
because there is.
plants will wilt.
forests will burn down.
eventually, even the stars will burn out.
people will come to us.
they will touch us. they will hurt us.
they may keep us. they may not.
but i never hold on too tight
because when it’s time, my time,
i’ll only be letting go.
the heart has valves
that constantly open and close
giving love, taking love.
and my best advice
is to be selfish.
know when you’ve had enough.
know when you deserve better.
close the valves and
keep some love for yourself.
know that you are perfect
even if you eat that second cheeseburger
because there’s magic in this world.
we’re proof of it.
is fear o
:Forbidden- Ch 10::Forbidden- Ch 10:3 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
I hesitated a moment before turning and running back into the house. AJ was already trying to push his way between the quarreling brothers.
"Cain!" The blue-haired teen screamed, his fist tightening around the man's shirt. "You need to calm down!"
Cain ignored AJ, pushing him aside to swing his fist toward Talen's face. Cain's sibling dodged it and retaliated with a right hook of his own but instead of his brother, Talen's knuckles struck AJ's face, the dark-eyed boy staggering backwards and lifting his hands to his eye. He whimpered for a moment before shaking off the pain and re-centering himself between the two, turning towards Cain.
"Cain, please stop!"
His hands wrapped around the man's waist as he burrowed his already bruised face into his slightly blood-stained shirt. Cain stilled, staring down at AJ, his eyes widening. Talen stumbled backwards, a wall catching him before he could lose his footing altogether as he lifted his arm, wipin
The RingsHear me read itThe Rings3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Almost everything about my funeral was perfect. My body rested, awaiting its captive audience, in the church hall over night. A Catholic tradition only afforded to true believers of the faith.
My entire family gathered and told stories of my better days. They remembered my contagious laughter, my love for them, and how I would cheat at cards to help my grandchildren win. They remembered the best parts of me, and my suffering fell into nothing.
I'd always loved flowers, and so there was no shortage of them that day. There were more flower heads in the church than there were people, but then, most of those I loved were waiting for me here.
My youngest grandchild had a great cross of lilac and white made. It included all my favourite scents and the muted, clean solemnity of white roses. I saw her grind her teeth when another bouquet arrived in the same colours. I saw the grit of anger that her thoughtful testament, crafted fr
DistancesThere's a little girl made of glass withDistances2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Purgatory eyes. She
Can't seem to remember where
She's misplaced all those lovely words.
The mockingbirds and stellar jays, they
Cry out, "Little one,
You can't even recall the color of your
You've sharks' teeth in your blood and
Sewing pins in between your collarbones-
What do you know of
This world, anyhow?
Perhaps you are simply
They watch her; she trades butterflies and
Midnight love letters for the
Ability to look without seeing anything.
She gives them one of her ribs
Every afternoon; they can
Use them much better
Than she ever will.
Asleep (America and England x Reader)PART 1Asleep (America and England x Reader)1 year ago in Drama More Like This
'Do you want to pull the sickest all-nighter ever? It's not optional, by the way. be outside my window in 20 minutes or there WILL BE CONSEQUENCES
dd/mm/yy- 11:49 PM'
"Alfie! Artie!" ______ greeted as they knocked on her window. "Glad you could make it!"
"You never said this bloke was coming!" Arthur yelled.
"Because if he did, I would've been outside his window with a boom box and I would've made you come with me. Now, getting to business "
"I'm just happy to be here brohas."
"Now that we're all here, let's continue on with the show. Come inside, gentlemen. Be careful, there might be a snake or something in the bushes." ______ smiled as she opened the windows.
Alfred, then Arthur 'hup'ped themselves into ______'s room. The room was lit by a lamp and the glow of a computer screen; ______'s bed was in the corner, a rug in the center, a desk in the opposite corner, and a nightstand with the lamp on top of it were the primary furnishings of said room. The
Spotlessone day you'll fly a little too close to the sunSpotless3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and you'll remember the boy who told you
gas station trinkets were worth more than
the heart you wore on your sleeve.
disillusionment will take you home, and
it will not leave your bed in the morning.
(you will remember he called you loose, too.)
you are the one who believes in smoke
smiles and candid cadavers. no ones'
nose grows, so everyone must be
undeniably true (except
you lie to yourself, too)
a few lifetimes ago you fell in love
with your own reflection, but as you
stripped away layers of common mis-
conceptions, you realized you are not
virtuous and radiant and hung out
only to shine, your paleness is
not purity- only blanched bones.
gravity never liked you and
the secrets you tucked away
beneath your sternum, you're
you are a moth flitting selfishly,
you only wear your tattered wings.
CeruleanEven the waves had been tamed,Cerulean3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and nature lost its classical romance,
when the waters asked permission
to darken and hold the sands.
Love Letter to ChopinNo matter the number of strings I pull,Love Letter to Chopin1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
the number of keys I crash and speakers
I blow and records I scratch,
I can’t quite chase the sound of the piano
as it echoed through the hall
to my ear pressed to the door.
Nocturne No. 20 will always be yours.
It will always be your untied shoelaces
and white-collar shirt between four stained walls
where the violinists and cellists tuned their instruments
to the key of increasing hysteria
and pre-concert jitters.
It will be your fingers practicing your piece
while the rickety bench croaked its own song
and your laugh at the way your feet tingled
in your shoes. It will be our calming breaths
waiting in the hallway for our name to be called.
It will be the way I tried not to breathe
too deeply as we huddled,
our eyes catching fragments of the cellists and violinists
through the crack in the door.
It will be the colour of the walls where I hid
and the taste of the water that washed away my tears
when I couldn’t take it,
wanderlust, and what i knowi know things.wanderlust, and what i know3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i'd like to pretend to the listening frost on car windscreens
that i know these things from the song of birds down my ears.
'a little birdy told me' they say, but what they're forgetting
is that birds, if they could talk, wouldn't waste time telling
humans other peoples's secrets when they could be teaching
me how to grow featherdown and fly. yet here i am, a bird
telling scraps of paper what i do and don't know.
LoveLoveLove3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Love can be as heartwarming as a mother's love,
Or as strong as a bolder,
Love can be as calm as the sea,
Or as soft as a pillow.
But you must be careful because love can be as coy as a snake,
Or as deadly as the Grim Reaper,
Love is the key to the future,
But you must choose what door you go through.
91 Days (and a drink or two)here i lie91 Days (and a drink or two)3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in the dark
looking at the glow-stars
you strung from my ceiling
i wonder if you remember that summer day
, with sugar-coated lips,
you kissed the lights reflected in my eyes;
i said i wished that i could
drink starlight and swim through galaxies
so we drank vodka from paint-dirtied cups and
rode the waves atop your bed
to places we'd never been and
worlds you'd never seen
they found you in a ditch
three months later;
the stars we chased
you finally caught them
there they were
shining through the glass in your eyes
only yesterday i
felt the ghost of a memory grace my eyelids
only yesterday i felt
But I'm Still ListeningShe is stuttering down a badly connected phone line that went dead seven and a half minutes ago. She wants to tell you that she is parting her lips to scalding water and letting her tongue burn. She wants you to know that she only lives for midnight when, eyes glazed, she is mesmerised by the way the clock breathes 00:00 like time doesn't exist. Like it never has done and never will again: like she never existed.But I'm Still Listening6 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
She is holding her lungs in balled-up fists in an exchange for ceasefire, while all the time wondering why she feels so empty. She stands with no protection as the sky rips itself apart, because at times like these they are the same. She wants you to know that she needs the rain to wash her away.
She doesn't quite trust herself to stay conscious when she blinks, so she's given up sweeping dust away from the headlights. After all, she's only atoms and who really cares?
Believing that tomorrow's dawn will erupt into paper leaves and frosted blueprints for breathing
Season of Haiku1Season of Haiku3 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
skin of its seeds
holding autumn in
trees yawn in the wind
I open my mouth
fooled into the open
a young doe
the ringlets of my hair
creepers on a fence
I hold vigil
for the moon to reappear
is already changed
The Quiet Thoughts of Butterfliesshe says "I'm worried if I breatheThe Quiet Thoughts of Butterflies4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
too loud the silence will
I watch her hands press butterfly
wings between the pages.
does she know that
I'm the queen of silence?
my corpse lungs and
graveyard lips; a decomposing
tongue lurking behind white-washed
tombstones. paint me with sunbeams,
I'm still the same.
[death warmed over]
her tropic gaze rakes over
the bone-white snow. "I keep
swallowing the snow-flakes. they
remind me of frozen flowers.
their dead sweetn
To lose a scarfWe were sitting in assembly,To lose a scarf6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
masses of people tossing and turning
in the wave of maroon indifference.
Our souls asleep and our attention
scattered into bits and fragments that are high fiving
in subconscience apathy.
Some authority figure had lost her scarf,
it was black with green speckles
they told us.
Among the aisles of spinning-head parts
I call friends
there is a laughing
and no concern.
There is a laughing
and a stir in the immobile human categories.
And I am truly excluded in my sincerity
when shame passes my lips and
it is horrible,
but more horrible for my eyes to reach out of their sockets
to anyone of these
millions of friend counterparts,
and find nothing
but a shrug,
Somewhere far from the bonds of
is a lady who now sits cold-
from no scarf
from no sympathy.
Eyes to wonder and caress this disappointing day time
so that I may find myself
just a green speck in the black
wondering how important the issue of who lost it is
to the peop
Our Simple TaskWe are deepened by our dark souls, sealed within the bloody and banished scrolls.Our Simple Task2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Damned by the morning and by the light, our eyes lurk gloomily in the path of night.
We whisper tears throughout your sight, paralyzing your intelligence and fear of flight.
Alas flight is what you truly need, hence why your fate is for us to read.
In the air your body is thrown, whisked upon the dead; let your soul hear them moan.
Thrust forth and forgotten by the stain of blood, absorb the monstrosity from within the flood.
Bested by glasses and long dark coat, your flesh reeks a stench; thou shall be thrown in the moat.
Left to freeze and burn from the flames, thou is forevermore forgotten; the end of our games.
mythi ammyth1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
somewhere beyond hurricanes made
only of butterflies
and carpets pushing moss
between your toes
and trees that rut green
against stained glass
and dandelion clocks that blow
june around the snow-capped peaks
of your shoulders and the mountain
valleys of your collarbones
"we are all just stories"
and i have mine to tell
if we're all myths
strung up on strings of dragonfly wings
let me walk on fire i stole from
mount olympus, let me open pandora's box
of phoenix flames flashing purple and blue
and let me be a girl wearing a queen's skin
or cloaks of thistledown and lost baby
I AmI am the shadow, and I am the lightI Am2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I am the sunlight, and I am the night
I am the battle, and I am the fighter
I am the water, and I am the fire
I am a raindrop just ready to fall
I am the world, and yet…
No one at all.
Party for OneShe pressed a lopsided candleParty for One3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Into the pink frosting on top of the cupcake
She lit the wick with but a lingering spark
That cast a glow, tracing the contours of her face
The girl smoothed out her grey dress
Sitting on the dusty, cold wooden attic floor
The spiders on the sill of the single window
Formed beast-like shadows onto the wall
A teddy bear, a velveteen rabbit,
And a china doll with a cracked face
Were her only guests at
This late-night tea party
The old rickety house was silent,
Save for the record player,
Set on a repetitious track,
Playing a melancholy rendition of “Happy Birthday”
She spoke to her teddy bear quietly,
An innocent sparkle in her gaze
“Oh, Mother and Father will be here shortly!”
And she smoothed her dress once more
She ran to the wooden chest in the corner,
And pulled out a heavy locked box
Water filled her eyes, cascading down her cheeks
She set her most prized item down onto the table
Next to a cracked picture frame,
Til Death Do Us PartShe never married - lived happily anyway.Til Death Do Us Part5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
NaomiTo NaomiNaomi10 months ago in Letters More Like This
I met this girl a few years ago, except that I had met her before. We had posed together for a photo when we were babies because we were both born in the same year and we both looked more Japanese than we do now. I guess our parents thought it would be fun to take a picture of two quiet, cute, vaguely Asian girls—we were second-cousins, after all, even though I call her my cousin and think of her as a best friend.
We only met again the summer we turned thirteen when our families decided that we should be formally introduced, so we sat in her room in the all-too familiar awkward silence you encounter when you’re alone with a stranger and there is no means of escape.
We became acquaintances by finding a common interest: her bookshelf; but we became friends on a swingset at a family picnic sharing our love of words.
Even now that it’s been four years since we’ve officially “met”, I’ve only heard her voice a few times, and even then, I