Cliches I Have Datedi.Cliches I Have Dated2 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Anna collected stardust
like pennies, except
pennies are worth something.
Claire had ink
running through her veins; dead,
from an unsterilized needle.
Robin had birdbones
strung together on windchimes.
Sarah’s eyes were always
to the sky, and never
Lizbeth took my breath away
with every punch to the stomach.
Rosalie had too many things
in her ribcage; emotional adrenaline
triggered her arrhythmia.
Emily left me
for a boy with starrier freckles.
I am one cat away
from a stereotype, or one girl
closer to a happy ending.
lessonsYou held on to the final notes of yourlessons8 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
piano lessons because you knew
that there was nothing else here to learn.
"I am fierce and fearless!"
you roared down the halls
"This battle I will not lose!" you cried
as you slowly sank to the living room floor
and I cried right along with you
jillianshe's eight.jillian2 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
the girl never stops moving,
climbing the tarnished metal
of the jungle gym
wildly, limbs swinging,
with a childhood joy
I shed when I passed
the port of twelve,
she is knotted curls,
long silken hair
with infant-blond ends.
her fingers grab
her doll with the frizzy hair
and painted face,
and she's eager to win
I am old enough
that she will not last this way,
that she will grow,
as all children do.
every time I see her,
she grows a little taller.
she no longer likes Dora,
and I guess she thinks
is too babyish now.
she will abandon her dolls
leave her coloring books
for boyfriends and college and
but right now,
her world is simple:
days in school, coloring pictures,
nights at home,
nibbling dinners and
playing with her toys.
treasureI watched beauty die today.treasure2 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
She said, "I've lived too long
and now nobody knows
what I really am."
SapiosexualI don’t know what I’ll doSapiosexual1 month ago in Free Verse More Like This
when the first fistful
of dirt hits the bottom.
Maybe I’ll follow you to the grave.
Or maybe I’ll pray
for a zombie apocalypse,
so we can dine on each
other’s brains one more time.
Morpheus Hexi.Morpheus Hex3 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
I am the moon walker,
the black coffee athlete
in the star-dotted evening gown.
I am young, but I feel old,
like an antique with
Sleep lives in my shadow,
a morphine caregiver
with gentle hands,
but I dare not fall into his arms.
There is a sad knowledge
in his eyes
that I do not trust.
You left me behind,
but my pillow still
smells like you,
and now my bed feels
like a fucking coffin
without you in it.
Nights like this
make me wonder
what it feels like to die.
It bothers me that
only the dead know,
and they refuse to share their secret.
One day I will find out
the truth for myself,
and that scares me.
Three a.m. teaches you
how to suffer quietly.
Sleep pulls on my sleeve
like a black-cloaked child.
He tells me everything will be alright
(but by morning, I know
he will be gone, and
I will be alone again).
Confessionsthere’s a lot I never told youConfessions1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
1. I have a habit of lying, about
the simple things (like, yes I
forgot to remember and I swear by
soul mates and I’m in love
with your susurrus voice
and no, I’m really doing fine).
It was not an act of infidelity because
I believed it, too.
2. I’m infatuated with the concept
that I am more or less fictional, the
delusive beauty a million men will
dedicate novels to: I am fragile,
a dust angel sent to save the world
from commonalities and
3. Since I’m not allowed
to remember your name
I will commemorate you
in acts of escapism,
killing off the pieces
of the person you left behind.
4. I believe in a past life
I was a bird with a tendency
towards tall buildings; the sorry kind
of bird with heavy bones and crumpled wings
who never quite learned
to fly away.
5. I miss you. I used to think
you were a person, but now I know
you’re the happiness I will never
6. I'm sorry.
SupportMy shoulder is numb,Support1 year ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
but your head is a pleasant
weight against my arm.
they say his bark is worse than his bitethe lime green telephonethey say his bark is worse than his bite6 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
demands to be answered,
its bell-biting voice
a wolf in sheep's clothing.
she picks up, yawning,
invisible to prying payphone eyes
in her blurred lipstick
and last night's dress.
"who's there?" she asks,
and the man just laughs
because he knows she's already
caught in his fishing net,
the poor discounted mermaid
flopping in the moonlight.
she can't remember the last time
her mother called, or the last time
she rode a bike.
one day her childhood got fed up
with her wicked ways and left
without a trace.
for some reason, she keeps looking for it,
the convict joyriding down a nostalgic road
closed off by orange cones.
the phone call lasts thirty seconds
at the most.
she bites her lip and stretches,
slips into stilettos by the bed.
her joints creak as she stands,
warning her, telling her
she's too old
to be breaking her own heart like this.
she pretends she doesn't hear,
purse noisy with quarters.
outside, a mosquito
hits the bug zapper
she shakes her h
Tasting ButterfliesThere’s a boy in my class whose name I can’t taste.Tasting Butterflies2 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I mean, I can taste it, but I don’t know what it is. His name is Oliver. His name is smooth, kinda buttery almost, but that’s not it. It’s sweet and thick, like a syrup. I’ve never been able to not place a taste before.
I know the flavors of the rest of my classmates. Kat is wafers and chocolate; Melissa is dust and honey; Irving is grainy Parmesan; Ally is hot dogs and pickles. Every name has an essence on my tongue and I can name them all. Even the teacher, Ms. Fleming, has a flavor – spearmint toothpaste.
Oliver has hair like the taste of his name – smooth, burnished copper. He has the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. If his eyes had a name, I bet they would taste like seawater. Whatever his name tastes like, I’d probably never be able to eat it without also tasting butterflies.
Sexone time at schoolSex2 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
I was dancing down the hall,
and I was telling a friend of mine
about how virginity is not a flower,
but rather it is an orchard, bearing fruit
ripe enough to entice Eve
and as our mouths began to water a teacher stopped me
and told me that the words I spoke
were a sin to school halls,
and I told her that the true sin
was a teaching about how Christopher Columbus
a rapist and a murderer
was depicted as some sort of savior of
And of course that could not be so
what with moral absolutism
a rapist could not be a Messiah
a rapist could not be a hero and the teacher just looked at me,
"isn't it just sex?
AcceptanceI was never bornAcceptance2 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
to be cookie cutter,
I was always the brownie baker,
turning the oven up to 451 degrees Fahrenheit
with a dagger in one hand and a bar of gold in the other
flicking specks of the metal
into my words and watching the town below
blossom into what we call a generation.
Always birthing phrases and dialects about
understanding and acceptance
but never being understood or accepted myself.
"How can that be?" Schrodinger will ask.
I am unwilling to open Pandora's box,
so I guess we will never know.
goldenrodwe met in september,goldenrod1 month ago in Free Verse More Like This
on the honeycomb-cusp
between summer and autumn.
we were a wheat field,
a corn husk,
warm and toasted
into blonde strands,
our eyes dry and itching,
our hands entwined
with daffodil petals.
in the nine a.m. sun,
we broke bread,
spraying sandy crumbs
on our beach-tanned skin.
placing dandelions in my hair,
you kissed me, twice.
Heavenly FatherOnly Jesus gives HimHeavenly Father8 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
ties for Father's Day.
CardiganI liked your cardigans because they were as soft as your skinCardigan7 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
and they seemed to match the atmosphere when we would sit at park tables,
eating our words with silver spoons
and sitting next to each other rather than across because we didn't like the rules
of platonic relationships.
You were left handed and your fingers and elbows would sometimes
accidentally collide with mine and you apologized
and I said that it was okay
when I really wanted to beg for more.
The truth was that I only ever wanted to know you and
touch your jaw and your fingers
and your elbows and your collar bones but that was not
appropriate for park tables and silver spoons
and you only wore cardigans around people who you thought of as just friends
and nothing more
I know you, I love youWe fall in love with the microscopic, rough-edged details of people. We crave the knowledge of our lovers, crave to know them the way nobody else can. In a way, these idiosyncrasies become our own personal gift, a sliver of our favorite person preserved within ourselves.I know you, I love you3 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
You love the way he licks his lips twice before saying something important, exactly twice, like he’s counting out two seconds to reclaim his composure.
You love how her fingertips smell like turpentine and lavender when she finishes a painting because she doesn’t stop until her brushes are clean, and then she spends too much time trying to scrub her hands fresh.
You love how he sometimes mouths the lyrics to songs under his breath, just loud enough to be audible over the radio, and you love the way he smiles and blushes and stutters when you notice him doing so.
You love her expression when she reads, shifting and flowing like a hundred butterflies in response to the words on the page; you love the frantic
wallflower clippingsthere's scar tissue in her throat,wallflower clippings1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
swollen around the words she never said;
dark rings around her eyes
like planets unremembered, and
a staleness to her touch,
the crystalline Dead Sea.
she's living like a story
that's already been told
"if no one loved you
would you mean anything at all?"
in that moment,
we forget to exist.
DeathPeople are hereDeath2 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
and then they are not.
we brush our teeth,
workout everyday all the while forgetting
that these temporary mechanisms,
these compilations of pleasures and blood,
of bones and bruises,
of vessels and kisses are just hosts
for a party of angels and demons.
I am here to talk about
a boy that I loved.
The one I held in my hands
like a baby as he breathed like
a leaf sunburned by the June sun
he held on to me,
more than physically,
begging me to understand that we, as human beings
are not bodies with souls,
but we are instead souls
sorryi am speechlesssorry7 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
and i hate this part of me
because so many of you look for me
to make something pretty out of these sad words
but my hand writing is ugly
and I have nothing
to say but
NaPoWriMo: Day 10 Have you ever been so cold, Sweetheart,NaPoWriMo: Day 101 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
your knees q u a k e d like that Jenga piece
that buckled just before your whole foundation
& no matter
how many times
I've restarted your heart,
one would think
I'd grow tired,
I'm still writing you in poetry
(in the most inappropriate of places.)
You forced yourself beneath my blades
& my fingertips,
Licking unstable knees,
you were death on my tongue:
angry apricot eyes, unforgivable sin
scaring my limbs &
haunting my dreams.
& I'd still try to save your fucking life.
star gazingyou did not look away.star gazing5 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
that is what i first noticed
when i chose my mind over my heart
and you held your gaze
like you were seeing the beach for the first
i always knew i was too logical
to understand love
but now maybe one day
when someone finally admits that they hate me,
i will smile like you,
and never look away
Finnceline- Capitulo especial 1/2Capitulo especial ½Finnceline- Capitulo especial 1/28 months ago in Romance More Like This
Era su primera cita.
Despues de todo lo sucedido, y aunque ya había pasado una semana desde que eran novios. No habían tenido una cita… una real.
Marceline se había arreglado de lo mejor. Paso toda la tarde buscando ese atuendo que hiciera que Finn se sintiera asombrado por su belleza. Paso otro rato de la tarde peinando su largo cabello, y aunque a ella no le gustara, maquillándose, claro, no exagerado, ya que ella sabia que Finn la quería por algo mas que su físico.
Al final se decidió por un vestido corto negro con tirantes, con un corpiño negro de lentejuelas, unas mallas de redecilla, y unos botines con tacon rojos, y una chaqueta de cuero.
Cuando estuvo lista espero a que fueran las 8:00 para esperar a que Finn llegara por ella… espero pacientemente los primeros 15 minutos, espero otros 10 minutos, y se empezaba a desesperar, para cuando paso la hora, Marceline se ha
kryptonite kidi.kryptonite kid4 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
"I'll be batman,
and you can be my robin,"
you said with a smile.
(it's just like you
to want to play the hero.
you speak when
someone pulls the string on your back:
you have all the right words.)
when I was a little girl,
I wished I could be a superhero.
all I needed was a radioactive spider,
or hidden powers
or super soldier serum.
I grew up in pursuit of these,
and became an adult when I realized
that I'd never find them.
I miss the days when I believed
all I needed was a cape to save the world.
I knew you weren't the one
because somehow I still wanted a hero,
somehow I still believed they existed:
one person who could rescue the city
all in a day's work.
I knew you had the framework
but not the heart,
a branchless tree
with no roots.
sometimes I stand on the edge,
wishing I could fly
but knowing I never will.
I think it's enough to pretend
I'll learn how one day.
(in other words,
I'm not your sidekick.)