amour d'arbreswhat was left amongst the weeds of the selfish downy green,amour d'arbres in Free Verse More Like This
my little drops of self, i lost to violet skies. i lost to forever, and to forgetfulness.
you pillowed my head and we ate strawberries,
folded up in trees and fingered by grass.
i never once thought of all the yesterdays and tomorrows,
but of rivers. could they run far ahead, beyond our today?
perhaps i should love them instead of trees, for they are freer,
and echo Orpheus's laments.
i feel so caught up in you, and you are bound with roots to this earth.
my dearest, i love you, but i cannot free you.
untitledwhen she sleeps,untitled in Free Verse More Like This
the inside of her mind is a spanish lullaby
just gentle chords strung into a
beautiful tapestry of sound. her skin
smells of oranges and cloves, and her hair is
cinnamon brown. she reminds you of
the feeling of waking up in the morning,
thirsty. she is the song you play for
every kind of weather
every kind of mood. you feel her
fingers on your cheek when you sleep,
you dream she's there with you. and even
when she's far away,
you hear her like the voice of a flute.
a haunting sound carried on
the wind, past hills and fields and
home to you.
be my windi'm not just a lonely girl.be my wind in Free Verse More Like This
i'm a girl that is alone.
a storm without its wind.
just rain, quiet rain
[until you come around.]
these sleeping handsit seems the rain is falling, love. but to where? where...these sleeping hands in Free Verse More Like This
do you hide your heart? these sleeping hands can't remember
how to find you, so draw them a map on the headboard where
i'll see it. sleep, slumber.
oh dear, i'm
down to your soul, but i've always known
ships with holes will sink.
river girlher eyesriver girl in Free Verse More Like This
made of pools that ripple when they blink,
and shed droplets that wash up onto
her riverbank cheeks
when she cries. she's the
river girl, hands soft that will
gently tug you under
the surface to hold you against
soft swells in the bed of sand.
she's hollow and yet full of
sorrow, with silvery
fish swimming in and out between
her ribs. with lips like seaweed
that caress you, your wrist
your shoulder, your
neck. she rests you against her silken
body, like a lover
she'll always hold you-
always trap you.
untamed, she is
unwanted. unloved, she is the
lonely river girl.
eleven oak treesits funny, the things you remember when someone is taken away from you.eleven oak trees in Short Stories More Like This
you hold everything you loved and you try so hard to stop it slipping through your fingers but it eventually does, and all that is left are the snippets the snapshots of all your memories horrid and lovely, compiled like a montage
it is three am, wednesday morning, and i'm standing, watching my mother, half sitting, half lying, sprawled out with her arms above her head in the darkened hall way, my father towering over her. I don't really remember what he looks like. He was tall, with dark hair and deep set eyes, shrouded by thick eyelashes and adorned by the beginning of crow's feet. he had a crooked smile that i used to love, with slightly yellowing teeth and dark stubble that grew from his jawline and made me laugh when he would kiss me goodnight. i remember her distorted, screaming face and my learned helplessness as tears graced my smooth, seven year old cheeks.
a year earlier, i remember s
acceptanceyou wake up shaking, but you're not cold.acceptance in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
you throw up everything you eat, but you're not sick.
you cry every night, but you've got everything to be happy for.
you scream in pain, but nothings happening.
you take pills, but you can't feel anything,
and you say you live for love.
life isn't about what you live for,
it's who you live for.
snow melting in midair.there are no words left in her system.snow melting in midair. in Short Stories More Like This
she's beyond alone, and shivering cold. lying curled up naked next to her toilet she begs her unreliable god to let her sleep. she has vomit through her hair and she smells of cheap wine and stale cigarettes.
she feels violated and disgusting, and won't stop telling herself she's a failure.
[but gorgeous, dark haired honey, look at you,
he cries in the shower so no one will hear him. all he can feel is hot mist filling his lungs and cold air falling over his skin from the open door. he lets the water drip down and over his open lips, as he reminds himself how horrible he is.
he falls to his knees and then to his side and the numbness kicks in, the terrible aching pain but the inability to cry, to eat, to sleep.
he tells himself he loves her. he loves her. he loves her.
[but pale boy, what do you know
the roof is spinning and the she tells herself the more she takes the faster she'll fall asleep. they're small - easy to swall
mornings on suburban trainsdearest, you have thunder in your eyesmornings on suburban trains in Teen More Like This
and lacing your fingertips
the mornings that you sit across from me on suburban trains; they are the brightest mornings of all. i could spend the whole trip admiring each curl in your hair and the shape of each fingernail if only i had the time. sometimes our legs brush when we sit across from each other, and my heart skips, but i don't think you even notice. your gaze lingers on the scenery outside the window; as if you wished you were outside too. as if the train was a cage.
if only you would let me, i could brighten your mornings too.
the afternoons that we exit the train at the same stop, they are the warmest afternoons of all. we split ways at the end of the station; i go left and you go right, but listening to your heels tap against the concrete even for thirty seconds makes me want to hold you in my arms and never, ever let you go.
the morning you smiled at me, i think my heart stopped momentarily. you had off-white teeth and dimples
learning how to lose.last winter i fell in love.learning how to lose. in Short Stories More Like This
i fell in love with a boy who had jutting collar bones and skinny legs, and whose mousy brown hair curled in all the wrong places, who had perfectly thin lips.
he kissed me for the first time in the middle of the night, and we sat on an old brown couch, under two blankets shivering in the cold watching the stars and waiting for the sunrise.
last spring i was his world.
he was everything i'd ever needed, everything i'd ever imagined. he told me he'd love me forever and ever, and that i was more important than anything in the world. one night, he spent hours on end reading me fairy tales from all over the world, until i fell asleep curled up against his chest. he'd walk me home, and i'd tell him of my father, and he'd tell me of his mother. some times i felt like i could just watch him forever. brush my fingers through his hair until the end of time.
last summer i lost my mind.
i never slept. i never ate. and he was always there. he'd hold me through the night
when spring comes - one.his bedroom is dimly lit, with a musty smell that reminds me of my grandparents old house. the curtains are dark and thick; allowing only small, fragmented beams of light through the dust-coated window. he has mattresses on his floor, slathered in thick, patterned blankets and old pillows. in the corner he has an old stereo system, with two large speakers sitting on top of it. from it plays a quiet, scratchy 1920s band - a jaunty and jazzy tune that scares away the silence that usually hangs gloomily over his bedroom.when spring comes - one. in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
the paint on the right hand wall was cracked and peeling in places but for the most it was covered with old photos that stretched from the floor to the roof. some of them made me smile as i ran my eyes over them, still trying to remain conscious of his movements behind me. i turned to face him and saw that hanging on either side of the windows were large, cracked mirrors in dark wood frames. i told him it was probably dangerous to have them there, and he smiled and told m
she was once a girl,-she was once a girl, in Free Verse More Like This
it's the silence at the very bottom of the night, and the way i passed out smiling, knowing that you were coming soon. it's the way i woke up in hospital with your hands on my arms, and your eyes more bloodshot than mine. it's the pain i saw in you, and the way my whole world ended in that moment.
this world is everything but beautiful. beauty is in the ability to smile when you know crying would be easiest, and holding others hearts closer than your own. it's doing the best by everyone else, even if it means doing the worst by yourself.
you're the only beautiful person i've ever met.
you were my first love, and darling, you'll be the last.
nine things i missnine: i miss the way you smell, the way you used to kiss me goodnight and the way your unshaved stubble would feel against my six year old skin. i miss the excited misery of your presence, the way you loved me but made me cry.nine things i miss in Short Stories More Like This
eight: i miss the way i'd lay in the dark, not quite sleeping, just so i could listen to you and mum talk. and then when she left, the way you'd fiddle with the strings on your guitar as if the notes somehow filled the empty space that hangs in the air where her sullen voice used to linger.
seven: i miss the way the wet grass used to feel between my toes and the way our neighbor's cinnamon doughnuts used to taste so much better when i ate them staring at the sky on top of my tree house. i was only eight, but i knew there was something special about everything back then and i miss that hope, that security.
six: i miss his house, the one with the fig tree and the hill in the back yard. the one with the old washing line that we'd all hang off as he'd push us around
requiem to remember the roses.there are these roses and they grow outside my window in the spring;requiem to remember the roses. in Short Stories More Like This
in the summer the sun burns their petals and they die.
i curl into a ball on my bed on the hottest summer days and sing to them -
its like my requiem for the roses.
you're a gin soaked barroom queen, spilling your thoughts to a stranger. you've abandoned reason and hope and you've forgotten love and dreaming.
all thats left in your alcoholic little mind are tales of better years and ability to hum yourself to sleep - even on the loneliest of nights.
you're close to a tragedy, but you're breathing and you've still got a few smiles left behind that sore face of yours.
it's the 5am cold sweats and cigarettes, and the attempts to find a teenage jesus that make me think i'm lost. its the screaming in my sleep and the inability to walk that make me believe i'm not going anywhere.
its the wanting to wake up staring at the sky that keeps me alive.
because there's something about the sky that reminds me of a self portrai
goodnight, baby boy`goodnight, baby boy in Short Stories More Like This
when you lay in bed tonight and decide, with tears in your eyes that you're better off without me, just know that i was laying, trying to remember that breathing does help the numb ache that keeps me awake through the night.
just know that i feel hollow and sick without knowing i can run to you.
and when i close my eyes, all i will be able to see is you. and when you curl into a ball and hug your knees, to try and make yourself feel safe, just know that i was alone, trying to steady my breathing, longing to be able to lay beside you.
and it'll all be okay, in the end;
that's what i used to tell myself.
it will all be okay
in the end.
constellations named after youThis solar system will self-destruct in...constellations named after you in Free Verse More Like This
i'm planning my exit strategy
four hours ahead, just for it to
fail and fall in the cracks of the
ground; sinking, six feet under,
just let earth swallow me alive!
i promise not to scream or cry,
but promises might as well be
broken if the owner's heart is.
it's a common misconception
that i was born in a planetarium,
so let me clarify:
one misguided prediction
a simple misrepresentation
or flawed communication,
can eclipse common sense.
our universes are imploding
and my bones are exploding
and i'm out of empathy fuel.
i'd eat every star in this forged sky
before letting you touch the insides
of my skin, of my shirt, of my life
if you could call it life without you.
let the sun paint my cheeks blood red;
let the moon laugh at my complexion;
let a black hole swell in my ignominy;
let fifteen apocalypses shine me blind.
my empyrean time machine
is stuck in the fucking past,
with newspapers headlined
a taxidermist in my spare timeit's always the last week of november when i'm making up statistics to say how awfully uncomprehensible i am. and it's always at exactly a quarter to eleven when i'm writing about nothing except for the vomit in your eyes or the blood in your mouth or another cliche of how pissed off/upset/overdramatica taxidermist in my spare time in Teen More Like This
not in love,
and i am not dressing corpses in your clothes,
and i am not in love,
and i am not lying to 500 strangers right now,
and i am not in love,
and i am not pretending that the sweat in your hair or the vomit on your skin or the blood on our tongues is anything other than some absurd metaphor for
because i've been stuffing stockings with christmas lists three weeks early to get the only present i want/need/despise, which just so happens to be in the future, and i need a time machine just to visit it, because i really just want to
because i've been stuffi
paper accordions, paper heartssing me a songpaper accordions, paper hearts in Free Verse More Like This
about how i make your insides shrivel like prunes,
about how i make your outsides wish for surgery,
about how i make your nosides become yessides.
sing me a song
about how you dream of Me,
about how you dream of We,
about how you dream of You
trading places with a teacher
and redefining pronouns A-Z.
(redefining vowels I-U)
sing me a song
about how we dance on typewriters,
about how we smash our keyboards,
about how we confuse plastic pianos
for claviers, confuse fingers for choirs,
confuse lovesongs for record players.
(any other genre of "players" as well)
sing me a song
about how you lost your voice
serenading your heart to your
soulmate. about how you got
laryngitis standing outside his
window in the below-freezing.
sing me a song until i'm deaf.
the alarm clock paradox -colabyou stripped your sweater tothe alarm clock paradox -colab in Free Verse More Like This
show me your freckles,
and oh how i'd love to peel them off,
because you're no swan, lovely--
not with those small brown accidents
kissing your every inch of
when they should be
kissing every inch of mine.
formed a coalition
to sign a petition
to ban you from
the sky, but i
what else could i wish on?
when you're alone, you'll always
lust for the bedroom door
to lock you in forevermore,
to lock me out forevermore;
that way you're safe to be the
sweet nothing that you see--
the ghostling in the mirror.
you're still just one
of those dirty little things,
and it scares you to tears.
i promised not to be a
liar, when you
promised to make me love you
(remember how i said
i could never love you?
well, i was lying)
you should know, darling,
a liar always lies.
you should know, darling,
this is not a lie.
and you should know, darling,
there's no difference between
dishonesty and disinterest.
so just forget to remember me
someone in the world loves youtoo bad it's not mesomeone in the world loves you in Free Verse More Like This
a collab not about butterfliesglitter guts, show us your rainbow blood.a collab not about butterflies in Free Verse More Like This
untangle the knots between your teeth,
and cut open your scars. tell yourself
you'll remember what to do at the end
of the world: who to love, who to hate,
and why the sun doesn't burn anymore
you'll be a cold beautiful girl
as the world freezes over
a thousand times more;
another hundred for each
rosepetal on your grave;
a million more for every
heart you didn't break.
you'll understand that you died alone;
no one held your hand
or told you it would be okay.
but you won't be lonely--
you'll be a part of everything:
the plants, the sky, the ground.
and glitter guts, your rainbow blood
will seep into the dirt below you;
your skin will fertilize daffodills;
your kidneys will save a child's life;
you'll be wiser and happier
than you've ever been before
at the end of the world.
blitzkrieg luminanceAnywhere there's smoke, anywhereblitzkrieg luminance in Free Verse More Like This
there's light; anywhere there's
a riot, a reason, and a military,
there will be pharaohs entombed
in their houses and in fields
of sanguinary debris. A clarion
of triumph will echo into the sky;
now they sing of Sumer, they sing
of wheat and rye and hops,
trembling in bloodstained fatigues
under the sickle moon's soothing
lights. The only smoke now whistled
from the pockmarked earth, an argent
joke among thieves and warriors.
The pyramid homes lined
outside the modern day
Colosseum, silver madonna'd lawns,
idols in every window. Children
escaping doorways, gambolling
into the open arms of heroes.
Anywhere there's smoke,
there will be burning effigies;
anywhere there's smoke,
there will be dancing victories.
And anywhere there's light,
there will be greenery.
insert slew of fbombs here:___if i printed this poem andinsert slew of fbombs here:___ in Free Verse More Like This
slammed it in your face,
you would just complain
that i'm killing the trees
raise a family with a strangerlet's grow each other together.raise a family with a stranger in Free Verse More Like This
we'll adopt twenty-six kids: one
for each letter of the alphabet.
the first thirteen will be girls;
the last thirteen will be boys.
we'll neither give them middle names,
nor use uppercase letters. and they'd
leslie and oliver and victor and ellen
would be quadruplets; they'd form
hearts with their hands and smile
with their eyes closed. they'd be
our favourites, but we wouldn't
tell them that. we wouldn't tell
them that, but they'd still know.
sure, we'd go bankrupt. sure, we'd
go insane. sure, we'd go everywhere
at all hours at all ages but at least we'll
Simple Method to Get PublishedTHREE EASY STEPS TO GET YOUR BOOK PUBLISHED:Simple Method to Get Published in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
I) Write book as fast and as sloppy as you can; make sure to not spend any time thinking about it.
II) Find Stephanie Meyers' publisher, and send her your manuscript.
III) Enjoy irrational fame.
melting point.I'd like to get you off my chestmelting point. in Free Verse More Like This
to heave one big cough, and you'd be gone
being alone is a lot like being sick
when i have you, i can't stand you.
I'd like to laugh at things you say
to feel something inside from you
laughing is a lot like lying
it's always at someones expense.
you always said you wished you could die young
to be living beautiful, and die beautiful
living is a lot like a puzzle
She glows.I think that every heartbeat is a plea to be heardShe glows. in Scraps More Like This
Beat one: I need you.
Beat two: You don't need me.
there is probably a reason why girls are the ones who wear makeup.
such as we tend to show our hurt more.
lies can't be seen beneath the foundation
you call it makeup
i call it coverup.
Beat: I don't want you to look underneath me.
i use to catch fireflys and throw them to the ground and watch as they glowed
i hope that when I die, i'll explode into a glowing galaxy.
Beat: I wonder if you'd kill me just to watch me glow.
those people that have irreg
trains wreck, ships sink.Listen:trains wreck, ships sink. in Scraps More Like This
to speak quite clearly, i'm a train wreck that hasn't happened.
i can feel the people franitcally running around inside my heart
and when I bend forward, I feel mothers grasping their childrens hands.
i don't want to be alone.
i'd like to not pray 50 times a night for you
for something you can't hear or feel
but somehow, it calms my train wreck
passengers have something to hold onto
i always wear my seatbelt.
Everytime I hold your hand it feels 1000 lbs. too heavy
i pretend you pass your life into me
it makes me feel like i could live forever
i wish i could exsist. forever.
i could gladly turn this train wreck into a sunken ship
i could drown the world with my tears.
there is som
charlotte.it was halloween and charlotte was dressed as an obnoxious pumpkin, because her mother tries to make her a normal child.charlotte. in Free Verse More Like This
(and charlotte will whisper that normal children smash pumpkins, not wear them.)
when charlotte was seven she decided that she would swim far out into old pine lake, and hold her breath until the colors in her eyes turned purple, like the bruises that slid down her thighs and touched apon her fragile feet.
(and it was then that charlotte realized, that no one would be around to save her, and that just wasn't the point.)
charlotte decides to be called "char" because it sounds like something silent, and distant. when you say a word so many times in a row it just doesn't sound the same anymore.
(because charlotte wasn't the same,anymore.
charlotte's first b
still.one.still. in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
her name is alice. there is a slight blood stain on the valley where her lips part, and her eyes are two supermassive black stars that can't show anything but hurt. she can't bring herself to look in the broken mirror puddles that are all over the ground.
(and i don't blame her)
she borrows her mother's raincoat because it smells like home. not the homes that are flooded with laundry soap or soft candles burning in the family room, but more like the paint she spilled on the carpet, or the whiskey on her father's breath.
(and sometimes, she swears she can smell her mother's sadness.)
when alice was little she remembers playing freeze tag with her mother. she remembers feeling anxious, and now she feels sick. "if daddy touches you, stay still, and don't make a sound."