fire and bloodi am stormborn;
she who dances
with the dragons who
call her mother.
the devourer of a heart
that galloped across a great
grass sea. the queen
who breaks every chain she
sees and will rule over the world
from an iron throne. the
daughter of a mad king who
shall scorch the land with justice.
i am the unburnt.
fire cannot kill a dragon.
red red rosesi am not a goddessred red roses10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
nor do i
believe i wish to
i'd rather be a half-forgotten
or a girl with opium
eyes and a
who doesn't believe in
kisses demons with lips
that whisper poetry as artificial
as the mannequins in a
i want wings:
appendages stitched from
and the feathers you
can find on
the ground - dirty,
ripped, but still
and i would soar
higher and higher
and buy up
all the stars.
if i am being
i fall in love with
and wolf boys
much like the way a candle
melts; fast, hot, and dripping
wax down the side.
i just want to fit
between these ugly bones
and the too-tight skin
that stretches across them.
dearly belovedthese daysdearly beloved5 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
your name has been slipping
in and out of my rib cage
my heart forgets to beat.
how even after all these months i still
don't want to believe that
you're dead. how during the
first couple of weeks i prayed
to a god i didn't believe in and begged to know
if death tasted sweet to you. how once,
when the monsters in my head
didn't let me sleep, i
wrote you three poems and then
you were a supernova that
lit up my life for
a few radiant moments before,
like all good things in this
you came to an end.
the sinner in me hopes that you have wings now.
but i think that,
most of all,
i hope you no longer
remember what pain
Sails and ScalesEver since I can remember my sisters have been seducing men with their songs. Just one simple note, I have been told, and any male will fall under their spell. I, however, have never been one to join in on their frivolous charades. While my sisters go off to cause a shipwreck and kiss the sailors until they die, I prefer more mundane hobbies - such as collecting the portraits of their wives and daughters and queens to gaze upon.Sails and Scales8 months ago in Short Stories More Like This
I have been told that I am the only mermaid in all the seven seas who cannot stand the thought of a human man being anywhere near me.
My name is Nerissa. I am exactly two hundred and forty years old, though I suppose in human years I would look to be about twenty. My sisters are as numerous as the waves in the ocean and range from all ages and are all the same: petty and vain, wanting nothing more than for a man to write poetry about their otherworldly beauty before they are dragged into the black depths of the sea. On the days where they come together to terro
a poem on the inner workings of my chaotic mindit isn't like i'ma poem on the inner workings of my chaotic mind10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
lazy or anything it's just that
the thought of getting lost
in a crowd of ten or more people
makes me want to puke.
this is not just some
stupid little hang-up that you can
joke about when i'm
digging my fingernails into my palm so
hard that blood is drawn as we walk through
school hallways so packed that it feels
like we're suffocating from too much
oxygen but i just grit my teeth and
laugh "yeah, i know, i just don't like
being around people sometimes."
but you know,
there's just something about the way
my mother says "go out and have a life
and stop looking like the world
betrays you every day"
that makes my stomach drop
or when my dad looks at me and just
sighs, like they've finally realized
i was never good enough to be
and to everyone who believes that
i just need to relax,
to just calm down and think:
fuck you. fuck you for trying to pretend
like you know how it feels when my
bones grind together like broken
gears as i walk by people who may
ashes to ashesi am the girl withashes to ashes1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
more faith in myths than in
there are more dead bodies in this world than the living.
and if that doesn't frighten you, then i
don't know what would. i guess you could
say that graves are just the closets in which
we hide our skeletons in.
there are ghosts all around us.
and i think that maybe,
i'd rather take my chances down in
the underworld with them than up
here where the earth is slowly
all because of the living.
AbsenceShe used to lie awake all nightAbsence2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
consuming letters with voracity;
it was the utopian lair she created
to slip away from the turbulent world.
Only too soon she learned
that you can't always hide
within parchment crevices.
(reality always finds you)
Even now, when she yearns to fall between printed canyons,
she can't help but curse those passive and lethargic days;
"It's too damn easy to fall in love with words on a page."
broken dreams and invisible heartstringsEvery morning,broken dreams and invisible heartstrings2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
she wakes up to a
hollow chest & stormy,
red rimmed eyes.
It's so easy to be in love
with being in love;
swallowing fake truths
& sincere lies.
But her heart—
it forgot how to smile
two years ago,
because no one can tell
the difference between
imitations & reality.
please find me;
I'm lost between the cracks of
Desperate to breathe
yet wondering how it would feel
she's never belonged
in this universe.
It's not hatred, it's incredulity.when i was ten years old myIt's not hatred, it's incredulity.1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
teacher asked the class,
"if you were god, what would
and i remember
biting my lip so hard
that it bled. carefully,
i wrote about
how i would teach
kids from an early age on how to
love yourself and no one
else and that there is no such thing as
an almighty power that will pity
you and answer your desperate prayers
at three a.m. because you're the only one
who has that kind of control.
when i handed it in she just looked
at me like i was the
her child's bed. the next day i
was sitting in her office wondering
why it was so wrong to
talk about what's in your heart at a catholic
school when that's what the priest tells
you to do at every sunday mass and
the teacher asked me
another question, "do you
hate god?" and i
wanted to scream "yes, yes!" because
how can a god let the world
slip through their fingers like this one has?
but instead i answered,
"no. i just don't think there is one."
and sat in the chair,
staring at the cross on t
wild thingsthere are days iwild things2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
want to run with wolves.
to howl at the stars because
the moon has never done
anything for me, and swallow roses
like their thorns never
but this cage -
it seems there's no way
and i fear it's
for anyone to hear me.
life is just a zoo full of
all our monsters, and
[it's our fault] we
wolfgirltoday is the day i grow my fangs.wolfgirl1 month ago in Free Verse More Like This
no longer will i put my tail
between my legs when i pass by my
reflection; no more will i cower
before the wicked dreams
that whisper deceit in my ears.
i shall throw back my head
and howl to the moon whenever i
wish. the cowardly hunger will
be sated by the bones of my
monsters, crunched to nothing but
dust between my teeth. even the
devil will fear my rage for at
last, i am beginning to cherish
this temple that protects my
as for the dread that still threatens to cage my wild soul?
i will hunt it down
and tear it to bloody shreds with hidden claws
that once lurked beneath my
trembling skin. for i have become free—
and it is a right which i will
never let leave my sight.
Fate be damned.personally,Fate be damned.1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
i can’t see myself with
the milky way embedded in my
bones, much less my heart. it
sure would be nice to wish upon a
star for our happy ending, but i think
my prince charming just
i am a phantom
stitched into my
lips and rose petals
inked into my skin.
bones would like to
whisper “i love you”
in every language of
because fate may
not exist and it’s
high time i form
my own destiny.
Those ThursdaysWhat about those thursday morningsThose Thursdays7 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
when you'd wake up and find your ribcage door
swung open again by the nightmares
with an owl nesting, and pecking at your heart muscle?
What about those thursday mornings
and having to fold your elbows around your knees
to stop yourself from losing anything important
as the mechanics shook and shook you
and the pain cracked you, bones and blisters?
What about those tuesday afternoons
when you hear that familiar sound that makes you cry,
that hissing noise that warns you of upcoming agony
and you can taste it in your mouth again, so familiar -
what about those tuesday afternoons
when you swallow your words and the drugs
to try and stop it from coming back
but it returns just the same and against your will
you hear yourself still breathing?
What about it?
What about those hazy sunday evenings
when the fine line between oh-god-make-it-stop
and please-god-let-it-end gets blurry somehow
and you don't remember how much you drank, or what?
What about those d
No rest for a weary heart.Yesterday my mother asked me what INo rest for a weary heart.7 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
would name my children and I told her that
I did not want any. She scoffed at me
and shook her head, insisting
that once I found the
all of that would change.
And I thought back
to all the times when my palms
sweated and my throat ran dry
and my cheeks heated up just because
a girl walked by whose lips
were so pretty and pink that all I wanted
to do was taste them.
I replied, swallowing the acid
that was threatening to crawl out of
"it will take a lot more than that
to convince me."
Because despite the fact that
the mere thought of a man
with arms that could carry the weight of the
world holding me tight could
make my legs crumble beneath me,
I just don't know if it
would be the right choice.
I remember once
when I let it slip that I supported
those who loved all genders
my parents stared at me as if I
had admitted to murder. "It's wrong,"
my father had exclaimed and to me,
his words were a toxin more deadly
skinwalkershe was a vicious prion,skinwalker2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
anomalous & infectious—
my fractured mind was the
perfectly unsuspecting host.
i was so ashamed of life
& you had all the answers.
"don't let me go,"
she hissed each night,
coating my flesh in a
(it was just too damn easy
to grasp your viral hands.)
i know my ribcage is almost on empty
& my heart is converting to toxic waste,
but i still have a feverish serum in my veins
& a voice not yet conquered by broken bones.
your plague of malevolence
shall never govern me again.
The Stars, The Moon, and YouI opened my hand,The Stars, The Moon, and You8 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
And out flew out a little bird
She tweeted about the stars
She tweeted about the moon
And she tweeted about you
I laughed as you fumbled with my hand
You thought it was magic
I kissed you goodnight
And I watched the stars, the moon, and you
It seemed so peaceful
Till the world went black
I felt defenseless as they stole you from my heart
You cried, you laughed
I wanted to run
But something held me down
So now I just watch the stars and the moon
And hope that one day,
I’ll wake to you next to me
That little bird never stopped tweeting for you
And I sang along
She stopped one day and stared at the sky
Her wings became mine and I flew
I followed your heartbeat
Across the ocean
I saw the stars, the moon,
And eventually you
To my surprise, you had grown so much
I thought I was only a memory
But then you laughed
And I cried
And we went back to watching the stars and the moon
And I watched you.
That bird f
untitled.shut up.untitled.1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
just because you
hide behind pretty
words & stone smiles doesn't
mean i'm going to do the
i have the soul of a
& when i run
with the wolves,
no longer matters.
all my demons out
the next time you attempt
be ready & waiting.
to the girl with hungry footstepsI'm sending all my words backto the girl with hungry footsteps1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
to the people who need them--
people who wear scars like
war trophies, like jewelry, like
an identification for those suffering
from the same acceptance of
self-hate. this is to the people
who sleep with one eye open, who
cry when footsteps enter their room
at night; this is to the girls
who love by cutting their hearts
into snowflakes and watching
them melt. I left you behind and
I can't be sorry for that.
you are the type of beautiful
that kindly asks the world
to fuck off. the days we buried
have decomposed, headstones are
snapshots; sanitized breakdowns,
rusty tongues, sighs laced
with fear, I love you, I love
you. saturdays were the best
because we could sleep through
the nightmare. you painted me a
picture of the world with your words
and they made us wash it away
for being transparent.
we were afraid of nothing
but the monsters in our eyelids.
back then, we counted days
like shooting stars; it took 67
to wish myself away. this
is for you, skygazer;
Poetry is:Poetry is:Poetry is:2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the adhesive to
a fragmented soul;
broken wings that still dream of
F L Y I N G
how snapdragons breathe stardust
and orchids perform ensembles.
when 'imagination' and 'reality' at last discover a
c r o s s r o a d s,
and rush to embrace one another with fervent limbs.
why gravity seems to f
l, taking the world with it.
what flows through the veins of every pair of [shipwrecked; star-crossed] lovers.
who I am; who I was; and who I want to be.
interstellarthere isinterstellar2 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
something about the night that
makes me want to fly.
once, i had a dream
where my fingers could touch
the sky—and i pulled down the stars
from the velveteen darkness
to stitch them into my
skin. i was nebulae;
a smoldering quasar as
the universe flowed
through my ravenous veins.
a supernova landed on my
tongue and the bittersweet taste of
one million galaxies
circulated into my soul.
in that moment,
i became the cosmos—
with asteroids in place of eyes
and pluto orbiting between the confines
of my ribcage.
my wings are made of stardust
and luminescent constellations.
i will soar higher
than any god
an apology to anyone who'll listen It begins with a wishan apology to anyone who'll listen1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
and ends with a sigh.
I am in love with boys who
don't exist and girls who I sometimes
pretend are myself. Spineless,
spiteful, and one hundred percent
I'm becoming undone.
When I was
younger I thought it
was a sin if
your parents didn't
love each other. Now I
know that it's
just the way this world works.
I need you right now;
to tell me that
gaining four pounds in
three days is typical
to tell me that
living in a dream every
second is perfectly okay
to tell me that
I'm normal, that I'm
still sane, that I'm not
going to close my
eyes one day and never
open them again.
Don't look at me.
I can't remember
the last time I
had no regrets.
HushHis eyes are the first thing she sees.Hush1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
They are red. A bloody crimson, glowing like hellfire in the middle of the dark mass that is he has materialized in, beckoning her closer.
She steps forward, uncertainty trembling on her lips as she reaches out a hand, fingers curling in on each other. The question tumbles forth easily: "Who are you?"
He smiles, his mouth the only other thing visible in an otherwise utterly black figure. "Anyone who you wish me to be. You merely need to give me the orders, and I shall obey."
His voice is otherworldly. It is as if a shadow had learned to speak - silky, smooth, dark and dangerous. She shivers at the sound of it, resisting the urge to hold herself as a chill settles into her very bones. His smile is that of a crescent moon, an upwards curve of a smirk as he watches her like a wolf observing a lamb. "Well, girl? What say you? You did summon me, did you not?"
The girl looks down at her hands. They are forever soiled, though it is invisible, and
I can't write poetry for dead girls.there are tooI can't write poetry for dead girls.1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
many pills in this
world and too
much misery in
the human heart
but that didn't mean
that you could just
up and leave when
we both know it
could have gotten better
and i miss you like
a wolf misses her pack
or a goddamn dragon misses
her fire and i'm sorry
that i can't give you
a bouquet of jasmines
(they were your
favorite, after all,
because that was
the only princess
with a pet tiger)
because poppies are
too cliche and i'm
sorry i wasn't there
when all you needed
was a hug and for someone
to whisper "it's okay,
you're perfect enough
for me, don't listen
to that junkie bitch
who just happened to
give birth to you" and did
you know that i'm still waiting
for a reply to that one
email about the world's
best puns because fuck,
there's a stubborn part
of me that still refuses to
believe that you're gone.
are my words poetic enough for you?maybe not.are my words poetic enough for you?2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
because i will never be the fire-hearted girl with remedial stardust lips,
dancing with the astral wolves that hunt beneath her moon-kissed skin,
with the courage to plant wilting lilacs into every crippled soul she finds.
but what if they were?
then i would be the ink blots coating the archives of humankind,
the fractured jewel tucked away in a catastrophic dragon's chest,
and the lyric every mismatched bone engraves into their marrow.