a painting hung all wrong.in a dream.a painting hung all wrong.3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
we find him strung up in our garage
washing line taut. neck bulging.
i covered someone's eyes.
stopped them from remembering,
almost familar features
and blue blue blue blue wide open eyes.
where's someone to cover mine?
i mirror you with swollen throat
my voice thick with blood and screaming.
a painting hung all wrong.
Feelings with no namesi.Feelings with no names2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The feeling you get the day after sending a letter, and you know there is no possible way that the recipient has received your message yet, let alone formulated time to write a reply, but you still get just a little hopeful when you hear the mailman drive by and rush out to the postbox a little too quickly and are disappointed by the pile of free coupons, bills, charity flyers, and a late Christmas card from Grandma Moses.
The noise of a faraway car driving late at night, or perhaps early in the morning, in that sleepy place somewhere between consciousness and dreaming where everything is warm and vaguely fuzzy. The remote sound of tires on asphalt speaks to a sense of curiosity – where are they going? Why so early? – but the blankets are so heavy, your eyes are so heavy, and before you can wonder anymore, the car is long gone and you are long gone, carving out a hollow place to rest in just a few hours more.
A sudden awareness that occurs during funerals that y
Cold HeartedI'm tearing them down,Cold Hearted2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Piece by piece.
Let the walls fall,
Let the pain increase.
I stare my pain in the face,
Let it rip me a part.
Show what I've always feared,
In the depths of my cold heart.
I review my lack of care,
All the people that I've hurt.
When did I become so cold?
When did loved ones turn to dirt?
What happened to me?
Once so loving and kind.
When did it get so bad?
Did I suddenly lose my mind?
I want to trust again,
To love and to care,
But is the risk to high?
Is the cost of pain fair?
I realize that it's not.
I'm safe within my walls.
So much better to be cold,
Then to get hurt in the fall.
Still-life.The best of my paintings:Still-life.2 years ago in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
the hum of
a sad piano,
a morning cigarette,
and a graveside angel;
all I ever wanted.
post-apocalipsticki.post-apocalipstick1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
red as the setting sun
and all men's shade
when she walks by
the dull stains
of the masses pined
like the fire's died
hips in motion
from tense to open
she's slicing a throat
when she lingers
and the hopeless
while she picks
from the fray
Don't Write While You're Highwhere the scenesDon't Write While You're High2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
blend too seamlessly
to the next glance:
our twoselves soon rising
up-through white fibers—
from the thick of reality:
oilslicks slipping up-along
when later looking back: the lost
incompatible with water but—
we sought fewer thoughts
An hourglass between his knucklesHe quit smoking because heAn hourglass between his knuckles2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
didn’t like the taste of his own
mortality; bitter, brackish, black
as his lungs. Didn’t like the pull
of nicotine, ashy fingers,
the way a cigarette looked like
an hourglass pinched between his knuckles.
The ashtray began
to fill up again after his wife
died. Every day at first; an entire
pack after her funeral; a box
every three days; one flicker
of light in the evenings spent leaning
on the balcony railing,
watching the city go by through
a veil of smoke and memories.
I bought a pack for him once, just
to use my ID for something.
It’s still sitting on his coffee
table, one cigarette short.
Who are the real monsters?The boy's room was dark, the only saviour from it was the little nightlight on the other side of the room. He closed his eyes in an attempt to scare the darkness, force it to recede and switch to daylight. He did everything he could to forget about the dark, because that's where it was.Who are the real monsters?2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Under the boy's bed there was a monster, one with a balding scalp and matted grey hair on its arms, chest, and face. Its smile was crooked, its teeth rotten. It was an ugly thing- the boy had seen it once when he dared a peak- and it frightened the boy terribly; what a shame his mother thought it was all a fabricated lie, blamed it on the little boy's wild imagination. She had said that, too, just this evening when she put the boy to bed at the usual time- she was a very punctual lady, there was no extending bedtime with her. But that was beside the point.
The boy closed his eyes tighter, trying to sleep and dream of a huge metropolis of a city, but the thing under the bed giggled loudly, distrac
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
Flaking Photographs We see the greatnessFlaking Photographs2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
of faces belittled
in little boxes
I Have Loved the Stars Too FondlyThese vast expanses broader than the skiesI Have Loved the Stars Too Fondly2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
And deeper than the ocean, just as blue
Are unobtainable from where the view
Is struck by light and hidden from my eyes.
Oh marvels of the farthest-reaching space,
Oh nebulae, oh planets, ancient stars,
Already naked eyes have fought such wars
To glimpse beyond the darkness to your face.
And light which grows with centuries has bled
Still higher in the night and drowned you out.
My city home has left my eyes in doubt
That worlds of breathless beauty I have read
Exist, nor are they found where'er I look:
All space confined in pages of a book.
this is about forgettingThis is the thing about forgetting:this is about forgetting3 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
For weeks you bury your face in the clothes you wore when he was near and the smell is a comfort and a torture. You decide that the torture is not worth the comfort so you leave them draped across the back of a chair and place things on top of them to stop yourself until one day you shove your hands through the pile until your fingers wrap around the fabric and you yank it free only to realize it was pointless. Even his ghost is gone.
The next thing that leaves is the way his voice looked in the dark. Those few sentences become blurred and rough around the edges. What you remember drops in your stomach in a different way.
You run your fingers over your
for those slipping into the backgroundThe tax collector hadfor those slipping into the background2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
an appetite for berry smoothies
and a secret love of robotic exchanges
between baristas and caffeine addicts.
An empty emptiness fanatic,
who dreamed of giving
the girl at the bus stop
(with the quiet lip-syncing lips)
a daisy because by the way she
stared forlornly at the pigeons pecking
at nothing, he knew
she liked simplicity
even more than him.
Paradoxes in her bonesand she always dismisses herselfParadoxes in her bones2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and leaves her pupils dilated
lighthouses and forget-me-nots tangled in her chest
but her thoughts shiver more than her dreams.
he calls her beautiful
as she longs to stick his eyes out with stones
and grasp his aching heart between her hands
but they both know he's already broken.
how can they stop when they've never started
she wishes she could send them reeling
with stalwart syllables and poignant sighs
even though she's never made a sound.
the storms outside are bitter
no sweet rain after dusk to wet her lips
the winds inside her are quiet, and seething
with all the words she's never said
and all the promises she's ever broken.
Cross Stitch CloudsLike a counted cross stitch masterpiece,Cross Stitch Clouds7 months ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
threads of purple clouds unravel
across a flaming sunrise.
Rhythm of the HeartWhat is this pounding,Rhythm of the Heart2 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
Within this heart of mine own?
It beats so softly...
Twisted Corsettwisted corsetTwisted Corset2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
tangled in strings
of the heart
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.4 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
Note to SelfDate a librarian; they'll read you until your spine falls apart, and still love every page. They'll underline your highlights, your endless seas of profound poetry, as if they've mistaken your manatee appearance for a mermaid. They'll hang off the cliff of your chapter 15 and dive into the next page as if you're about to reveal what they've been looking for. And when they don't find it, they'll tear out your words letter by letter with a hush, asking you oh so sweetly to stay quiet. Finally, they'll bind your broken spine with tape and set you on the shelf for misplaced books until they forget you were ever there, but they won't be done with you. They'll never be done with you; even when it seems your pages, your rib cage and heart, is filled with nothing but dust.Note to Self8 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
End resultI've fought,End result2 years ago in Emotional More Like This
Tired of pain.
When all I ever did,
Was try to be,
But the world,
And they took,
How they think.
Never does my faith,
Of His plan.
Peter Pan EnvyWe molded pirate shipsPeter Pan Envy8 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
from heavy storm clouds,
flags puffed up
and scooped out
like handfuls of sand
while the car windows
steamed in the cold.
You told me stories
of a boy in green
and his war with
the hooked man,
said they took
those like us
to the first star on the right
and straight on to morning.
You made me believe
and when life got hard--
mom hopped up on pills,
nights filled with demons--
I breathed wishes
to be stolen away.
No pirate ever darkened my stoop
with his wayward compass
or water-stained maps;
no fairy ever left glitter
smeared on my skin
like good dreams.
I look to the sky
when the wind blows
and hold my breath
with his name on my tongue
all the same.
Ocean,I'm pouring the lake at you again;Ocean,2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to speak the river and swill the crick with you
where all waters flow to and they've crowned you
would find our what-if miracles in a far-off land
in empty bottles under swollen rocks
trickling caves, island curtains and lighthouses
with us so divided by the waves;
let's find our thrones and bind the world to our ankles
with roots and swim regardless
then spree hardship so
our eyes will be just foam in the grace of what they see
as the sun sets and we sing each others' worlds
to forget each others' names.
BreatheYou inhaled herBreathe2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
And exhaled me
Taking in deap slow breathes
But breathing out fast
When she holds you
You breathe her in
With each moan
Every time you say her name
You exhale me
In time back I filled your lungs
I was spreading
I was in your cells
I traveled into your muscles
I made your heart beat
With each beat you took more of me
You could feel me
I was in your being
I was part of you
I didn't mind