Hey, Joe. Hey, Joe.
You're only a stranger to me.
Because I don't know you yet,
I'll assume you're shy,
For I am as well.
From what I observe now,
You seem nice enough to others,
So when you smile, I smile back at you,
Without a moments thought about it.
You seem smart and specialized,
From the way you speak in class.
You steal past me in the halls,
You're a seat in front of me in law,
Still a stranger, but that would change soon
In this warm, welcoming autumn season.
You have managed to get some speech from me,
Which others can't really do.
Those who are still strangers see me as delusional,
Without seeing the reasons,
Typical students, as prejudiced as they come.
From a glance, I'd never guess you had the same mind,
But youth is an impediment.
You're not just some stranger anymore,
But in fact, you're my friend.
My seemingly only friend, at the start of another year.
Maybe it will all go right now,
Maybe I could get acceptance,
Which I've been seeking for too long
shelter from the storm.Love always held up the walls.shelter from the storm.2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
maybemake sure you bury the lightmaybe1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
where you put it,
and i don't know
why i'm writing this.
maybe it's because i want you to be able to
in and out
so maybe you can understand,
but now i know
that i don't know
why oxygen keeps me alive
or how neurons are working,
hand in metaphorical hand,
to get me to write this
or why gravity
is pushing my shoulders ever downward.
i don't know a lot of things.
i don't know
why the juice i drank an hour ago
made me feel like it was scotch,
or why the string quartet
always makes me cry
or why i painted my nails
lavender and grey
but i can guess.
oxygen is magic.
neurons are actually little people
working to make me happy.
gravity hates me
and wants to see me suffer.
that juice was just that damn good.
the string quartet guys
were actually a huge hidden part
of that movie's emotional appeal.
lavender and grey are just my
and maybe some things
HerI never knew her name. Nobody did.Her2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
She wasn’t like the other girls, though everyone was united beneath the black leather and metal studs we kept hidden from society. Where the others sang, she screamed. Where they swayed, she thrashed. Where they slowly ground their hips and maintained eye contact, she was lost beneath a curtain a wild, untamed hair; her rage and passion overtaking everything until there was only the music in her soul to guide her. Where others batted their eyelids and giggled, she was matching the men on the boxing machine – even beating some. They spat out their drinks in surprise, caught somewhere between admiration and disbelief.
She was incredibly beautiful, but she never realised it. I had thought she might’ve secretly, until I saw her turn a fierce red in the face of admiration. Above the flashing lights and screaming, she gracefully turned scores of men away and instead lost herself in the music; revealing every fear and rage in the way she da
SadieThere was something exhilarating about the idea of going to the Square by myself. When I first told them, I think my parents thought I was crazy, or lonely, or depressed. I mean, who wants to see a movie alone? Not the Matt they knew. Enter my mom:Sadie1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
“Honey, are you sure you don’t want to go with Jake? Or Dave? Or Ryan?”
Truth is, people have this strange notion that they constantly need to be around people. They’re wrong. Being alone can be just as comforting as the presence of others. I’d never been to see a movie by myself; I figured it was something I had to try at least once in my life.
Besides, who knew who I would run into there? It could be anyone: the new guy with the tire tattoo on his palm (I’d always wanted to ask him about that), or a person I had never noticed before but that once I got to know him was really cool. Or it could be Alice.
Yes, it could be Alice.
That’s how I found myself standing in line alone at the Square on a Satur
6. breakShe likes to break things:6. break2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
plates, cups, windows;
capillaries inside her body,
Chatter is the wind and warm
in the coldest way possible.
You are a kettle for her emotions.
She’ll hang you over flames until your
insides boil, then share you
among her friends with
scones and cream.
The grass will coo of how wonderful
the leaves look today –
green is a lovely colour –
and the stones will pale
in comparison to the flowers
that will wilt in a few days,
losing their former
One day you will fall off the table
and become just like her.
EntropyI’ve got this personal theory that all couples tend toward a breakup. It’s science, you know; not that I ever paid much attention in that class. I did learn about entropy, though, how everything is in a gradual decline toward chaos. Well, if being in a relationship represents order, being single is most chaotic.Entropy1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
Take my parents, for example: they were happily married for thirteen years until my mom stopped talking to my dad, started sleeping on the couch, and finally left him. And then, chaos: angry phone calls, fights, lawyers, all while I switched between parents like a disoriented particle.
It all turned out okay, though; a few years later, my mom even found someone new, and I believe that my parents are much happier apart than they ever were together. She and her new boyfriend have a lot more in common: they both like living in the city, TV dramas, and Steinbeck novels, whereas my dad is more of an action movie-watching, suburbs-living kind of a guy.
Only, my mom has re
he called it the art of destruction.she had nice eyes,he called it the art of destruction.1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
the kind you liked to draw
with watercolor tears
and ink like the moon's
he had memorized
her midnight lashes,
the half-closed shutters
and memories locked away
behind a pupil,
and his pencil was the
were the specks in her
irises of emerald
everything she touched
turned into gold,
everything she touched
and rose anew
like budding flowers
after the blizzard.
could never do the same,
but he'd give those eyes away
for a dime apiece,
ignoring the fact
that ebony charcoal
and half-dried acrylics
were all that she would
and He believedalong the road to change, you decide:and He believed2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you lack a heart. your voice will
tear the world asunder. you
wreak havoc on the unassuming,
because you stopped trusting in
institutional stability the day
God poured over you.
He cleansed you in his tears, He said
He built you strong- it was
an obligation with weighted
requirements. He drove nails into
your flesh to test your faith,
you were pained and you were
you were a prize, a person to
swallow lechery and lead our world
into redemption; you would tempt us
from our questions why
everyone needs a Hero
(but who do you have?)
I cared about you, once, when
you were unbroken and not yet
perfect; when you still believed
the sun had a reason it rose.
but you never felt a thing because
when God drove into you, He whispered
away all human instincts
(no one should ever have to love
a shattered world)
We Kissed...It tasted of rainwater and warmth and something real—something alive.We Kissed...1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
It was a mistake and I can't fix it but I don't think I even want to.
It lingered on my lips like a stain and dyed my insides nervous.
It hurt me like nothing else and I can't breathe any more because I'm scared—so scared.
It was too rushed and teeth clattered and glasses brushed and why—why am I so awkward?
It felt like something rumbling under my feet and I didn't know what; but then I realised it was just me being me.
It needed to last forever because not enough things do that and maybe I want something like that (even if I deny it).
It was bitter and possessive and I couldn't let go.
It was my first.
It was our last.
It made me forget.
It made me remember.
It broke me but in that good way like breaking emergency glass in an emergency or breaking a ruthless military regime or breaking my fast in the morning with cereal and toast or like breaking the seal on a jar when no one else co
MidnightAt midnight, a child is born, and she is everything her parents always wanted.Midnight2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
At 1 AM, she skips off to kindergarten in her new blue dress, grasping her Barbie lunchbox, blonde pigtails flying behind her as she races the boy across the street to the bus stop.
At 2 AM, she puts away her toys.
At 3 AM, she is the only girl in all of sixth grade who still has a Barbie lunchbox, and she has no friends.
At 4 AM, she accepts her place as an outsider looking in.
At 5 AM, her hair is greasy and her room is messy and her grades are dropping, and she is everything her parents never wanted.
At 6 AM, she fights herself for the right to go on living.
At 7 AM, she meets a boy, and he is everything she always dreamed he would be, and they fall in love and nothing else matters.
At 8 AM, they forget to use condoms just one time.
At 9 AM, her child is born, and the boy of her dreams left her long ago, and her father is dying, and there is nobody who can help her, and her life is every
Valentine's DayMy pumpkin spice latte was too sweet, but my voice was too bitter. As I stared into the murky depths of my cardboard cup, I said, “We’re both single for Valentine’s Day this year.”Valentine's Day1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I didn’t know why I said it. Maybe I thought she would laugh. Maybe I thought she would show at least a little amusement, a smile that would reassure me that everything was Finally Okay and not depressed and sobbing and curled up on the futon. But she was silent.
I looked up. She, too, was staring into her plastic cup of bubble tea, avoiding my eyes. “Right?” I asked. “Mom?”
Her eyes still didn’t meet mine. She sipped through the excessively hot pink straw, intensely interested by the shop’s colourful decor instead of by me.
Propping my elbows on the table, I dropped my head in my hands. “Jesus, Mom.”
“What?” she asked finally.
“Is it him?” I tipped my head upward to look at her.
Him. That guy she used to da
Geiger's CourierAs I walked, the blue of the desert sky began to fade. I pulled my hood over my head, even though my machine body needed neither protection from the sun nor shelter from the wind. Simply put, I didn't like the feeling of the unending void above me, looming, watching, infinite. I knew I shouldn't have such feelings, so I ignored the rationale and allowed my hands to move as they pleased.Geiger's Courier1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
I adjusted the leather strap. The sky was pale. Gray. Stars blinking into view, I refused to meet their eternal gaze. As I walked I was dying. As I walked, I was not yet born.
But as I laid my feet in a careful pattern, one in front of the other, I didn't notice. Day, night, it didn't matter, for I'd been given the unenviable position in life of a courier, and I neither knew nor cared for anything else.
Not yet, at any rate.
My body was a vessel for my vague sense of self, for I was water gathered between shaking palms, a cup half-filled, a fleet lif
i became a writeri don't remember telling you that it was ever okayi became a writer1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
or that i was ever okay. because honesty should be number one
and the truth is simply that i stopped being okay
a long time ago, at about the same time that
i became a writer:
not when i picked up a pencil and wrote a sloppy letter "m".
not when i taught myself to type on the computer
-- and came up with millions of stories.
not even when i thought my life was
g a p a r t .
writing: a form of self-expression,
something that can be used - and abused
but when it became my way of showing my true colors
i became a writer:
after nights of crying myself to sleep
(over trivial things that at one time mattered)
because that was when i learned that
there was one weapon i have on my
SwellI am in a hospital, having a baby. I suppose I love children, but shit, I’m having a fuckin’ baby, after being pregnant for a year and a day or maybe longer. I’d expected my belly to be bigger, I think, more than just a shallow rise against the sheets. I anticipated a full swell, high tide. Real pregnancy, not just the suggestion of it.Swell1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
There is something wrong. With either me or the child (my little womb mate, I say with affection), no one knows. Doctors have hooked me up to monitors, stuck needles into my gangly child’s limbs, taped sensors to my sunken chest. At night, I tear them off in my sleep. The machines beep angrily, jerk me awake. I call for my mother then, but have only the cold hands of faceless (faithless) nurses to soothe me. They tell me I do not have a mother, that Sarah, dear, it’s time to grow up. After all, you’re having a baby.
I spend forever in the hospital and still the baby does not come. I ask a nurse for the date. She tells
HealHealHeal3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Move along just to make it through.
How can I move along
When I hurt so much?
When I want to cry,
Or hit something
When it comes to mind.
Why can't I handle this?
Why won't my heart heal?
It's all over.
The storm has passed.
But I feel so bad.
The guilt is tearing me apart.
What friend lies to their friends?
How can they even be called "friend"?
How can I?
I've put up a facade
And said everything is alright.
But everything's not alright.
It's darkened everything.
I can't think straight.
I try to avoid it.
"Those who forgot history,
Are doomed to repeat it."
Am I doomed to forever feel this?
Move along just to make it through.
How can I move along
When the more I try,
The more I fail?
This pain just doesn't
Seem to heal.
Goodnight KissesYour heart's a messGoodnight Kisses3 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
I confess the same.
I know it hurts
I beg you
don't give up
There are much greater
things to come.
There are great things
in store for you.
I've got a lot of
love to give
and I intend to
give it to
all of you.
sitting and waiting
for judgement day,
for your prayers to
finally be answered,
to be saved.
I'll be your
I'll be your
I'll be your
I'll be your
I'll be your
I'll be your
I'll never leave you
you don't have
to cry on your own
I'll be there with you,
holding your hand.
It doesn't matter
if you're young
or you're poor,
I'll love you
till your scars
It doesn't matter
if you're big
or you're small,
I love you all
just the same.
That I promise
will never change.
You are mine,
as I am yours.
What hurts you,
just the same.
we're not so different
If only they could see
what I see,
a beautiful soul
in need of
A Canadian and MeThe RCAF planes came through the orange haze of sunrise with their eyes on the prize, a supercarrier that went by Taylor. Fifty planes were expected, as part of a deal between Prime Minister and President to combine shattered forces and keep the war moving along. We’d lost at least forty fighters out over Mauritania, and another twenty through minor skirmishes near St. Helena, so it was for the best, really. Though the Canadians were adventurous pilots, to say the very least, we needed them, and they needed us. For the time being, we were literally floating through the war, helping whoever needed it.A Canadian and Me11 months ago in Short Stories More Like This
A cargo plane was expected to stop by within the week to bring some seamen by from the RCN too.
Though the new pilots were something to worry about, it wasn’t too much of my concern. Larson and I were more worried about the sailors, and getting them up to speed on how things ran around the Taylor.
Even so, we woke
Blister and Bleed.It was a lovely day when the disease came in. A third of the people within the town limits developed bursting pustules and bleeding sores.Blister and Bleed.1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
We put them all into a building with three nurses who had shown early symptoms themselves. But when they needed food and water, someone had to bring it to them. When they needed to bury their dead, one of us had to dig a hole. They were dying, but we still helped them.
Old John the undertaker began to blister and bleed after the fourth round of funerals. The disease gained momentum again and claimed those who were only trying to help.
"We can't do it anymore!"
"Why die for the dying?"
"We must do something!"
We did what we had to do. We rounded up anyone else who was getting sick and locked everyone in that building. We lit a dozen torches and burned that horrid place to the ground until the dying were long dead.
We never built anything new on the scorched earth, but the streets were no longer running slick
letter to a little me1. these are the anniversaries that will stay with you,letter to a little me11 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
for better or worse:
things go up in december, as if the coming of a new year
gives the old one a kick in the pants.
look forward to decembers.
time likes to tie weights to your collarbones with silk ribbons.
right now i am two years into a subdued grief,
five years into a wild regret. but don't be scared;
just as many feathers balance out the iron.
i am three years into something truly
2. you will get better. the words on the page will eventually
come a bit closer to the pictures in your head.
by the way, you think in pictures--you don't see that now,
but look for it. use it to your advantage.
stop with the heavy moralizing. you try too hard.
you will abandon false modesty and snobbishness,
as you will find out that they are not attractive qualities.
you will, however, trade them in for navelgazing
and perhaps a bit of haughtiness and pre
To Loved Ones Who Outlive Me When I dieTo Loved Ones Who Outlive Me2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The last thing I want is for you to cry.
I want you to remember that when I laughed too hard,
I coughed and got sick,
that I ate too much candy
and that I was a gluttonous mess at the dinner table.
I want you to remember the times
we called each other names
and sometimes intentionally hurt one another
going down swingingyou tell me to calmgoing down swinging1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
like it's a verb
like you're afraid
for me to calm
is just flying
with a more
and don't you think
and the words do
as soon as they leave my lips,
down my chin
and staining the ground
and you can tell
they came from deep inside me,
from my lungs
where oxygen goes to die
and my brain
that's filled with nothing
and geometric patterns,
i might as well
carve my name in them.
ReflectionDear Diary,Reflection2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
When you look into a mirror, you should see your reflection, right? I - for one - don’t.
As much as I’d like to say I’m disturbed by the fact, I must admit it’s given me a reason to write in this thing for the first time in months, but then again it’s not exactly something I can go around telling people, so this is the only reason I’m writing in you at the moment - that sounded ridiculous.
I’m not exactly sure when it started, which as pathetically stupid as it sounds, is indeed true. I’m not sure when it started, when I noticed it or why it is happening and as I can confront nobody else about it, I suppose I have no other option but you and the depths of my mind.
I assure you there’s nothing different about our mirror than any other mirror, come to think of it, I could probably look into any mirror and see this strange reflection, I’ll have to test that theory out one day, maybe during that shopping trip…Wh
your heart has always been free, darling.i.your heart has always been free, darling.1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
have been decorating my skin
for as long as i have
depending on what i am.
i wonder if they're your ribs,
i'll spin around my little home
and watch the shadows as they
and i'll pretend that i am them
and my body is the world.
have been clipped.
there's a little blue bow
on top of this place.
it reminds me of your eyes.
i stuck my hand through the shadows
and grabbed it.
it was like silk,
and it fell to the ground
like a feather,
than i've ever been in my life.
and it gives me hope
because even though it fell,
and there isn't much i wouldn't give
to hit that floor
and i can finally fly,
but i won't let them hurt you
you need to feel the wind in your hair
but i won't let you feel the rain
stinging your wings,
freezing you to your core,
you need to choose
between me and freedom.
i need to choose