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.
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
when i was young: one.when i was young i wanted to fall in love. in real, uncontrollable, can't live without each other kind of love. the kind of love that makes you so happy it hurts, and the kind of love that never, ever ends. i wanted to be the girl who was always smiling, the girl who was wise beyond her years.when i was young: one. in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
now, i realise that kind of love doesn't exist. that kind of love is a fraction of a fairy tale, it's a part of the sky, it's the colour in your irises. it's everything we can't be. it's the only thing that will tear you apart from the inside out.
and now, i realise that to be wise, you have to be hurt - you have to hurt over and over and over again, and you have to learn how to put yourself back together.
you have to watch your entire world fall apart, and you have to watch the people that have always been there walk away. you have to have ached, cried, screamed, and given up, only to get back up and try again.
he taught her -happiness does not consist in getting something -he taught her - in Free Verse More Like This
it consists in becoming something.
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
maybe in the morning,-maybe in the morning, in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
she remembers watching the sunset from her father shoulders and thinking that it was as if the sun was dying. as if its long life was slowly falling away behind the skyline and that it sprayed colors across the ever-darkening sky to remind people that death is a beautiful thing. that in the morning, a new sun would rise and everything will be bright.
when she dies, she wants to go out like a sunrise. she wants people to watch in awe as she changes everything just one last time and makes death beautiful.
she's older now, and she imagines that death is like being awake at night; the comforting silence and the dark that accompanies it. feeling like you're nowhere, that nothing exists. on the outside, everything will be like a sunset but on the inside of death you'll be alone, but you'll be safe and nothing will hurt you.
then a new sun will rise in your place as you watch the colors of the sunrise that you ever so often forgot about. this new sun will warm the hearts of your mourners
puzzle pieceswhen i close my eyes, i go back.puzzle pieces in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
sometimes, if i try hard enough, i can even convince myself it's real.
the sky is empty. it's like an endless blue abyss of nothingness, dotted only by the sun, hanging effortlessly above us - perfection in its simplest form.
it's warm, and our hands are intertwined between us as we lay in the grass watch the silhouettes of birds cut through the blue canvas of the sky. i hear the air stir through the tall trees in my yard, and suddenly there is a refreshing breeze that skims our exposed skin and brings us back, reminds us of the reality around us.
i turn to face you, and in your eyes i can see the sun's reflection tangled with the brown flecks of your irises. we don't speak, but you lift yourself from the grass and press your lips gently to mine, and i can feel your lips slowly upturn to a smile, and i realise you make me happier than i've ever been before.
you were an ethereal epitome of everything i've ever wanted.
and i miss you.
the new yearwhen you were just a boy, did you imaginethe new year in Free Verse More Like This
that you would bring down the sky?
i bet you didn't think you'd ever make anyone cry
now look at you -
your mother cries every night, and your father cries
when he drives home from work
in the car
and me, well
i don't cry.
instead, i burn incense and choke on the smoke,
and i plant flowers just to watch them die
every man i've ever been with, after you
their hands have run themselves over my ribcage,
their lips over mine
a mess of heavy breathing
and quiet, stifled moans
but i close my eyes
and i don't imagine you,
but i imagine that maybe they might
the way you did
i heard your voice the other day
in my mind
it made my skin crawl
and i hid under my covers
but i didn't cry
i didn't cry
do i cry.
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.
a fairy tale' you know leo, the stars we used to wish on don't even exist anymore 'a fairy tale in Short Stories More Like This
the early morning evil had engulfed her hope and her shine she shook, crying and dying to hear his voice - to escape her reality and enter someone else's. she had grown tired of trying not to cry. the grass in his back yard had grown tall with neglect and it loomed up around them and their blankets as they stared into the night sky. he watched her eyes gaze into the never-ending darkness and admired the way he could see little stars, floating like sail boats in the calm sea that was her eyes. inside though, she is a storm - a raging, violent ocean dying for an escape.
pretty nights make her sad. it's amazing, all the beauty and the way it can make you ache deep down inside, in places that only the tendrils of love dare wander. she stared up at him, tears slowly rolling down her cheeks, and asked for a story, a fairy tale. the darkness sucked the colour from everything, and in her black and white vision she w
a waste of love"you can't care about me?"a waste of love in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
you asked, an upstream tilt
like a curl of smoke trailing the end of your sentence -
hear me, please:
i have loved, i have lost
i have hated both and hated the interstitial space more;
i have bled over you, i have bled over virgin lilies,
and ruined them for all this world is worth -
it wasn't what you said that bloodied me up,
it wasn't even how you said it;
just your face was the blankest ream of pale paper,
paler than bone
and cleaner than my pastor's history.
you were blanched of any emotion,
utterly void of dark or light,
but your eyes held every feeling worn on the heart
i watched them swim and drown and become reborn,
flickering like the fire in a diamond below the sun.
it took every stitch of skin,
every pore and spine-straight scar,
not to let myself crawl into you,
my abandoned seashell;
not to take in every ounce of your bones
with my lips or fingers,
not to let you live in my heart
just to ruin it
a death of something beautifulabove the ground, you swing and swaya death of something beautiful in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
kitchen table, a mile away;
beneath your feet,
i cannot sleep,
i lost my tears as i hit the hay.
lovebirds and old birds
and dovebirds and cold birds,
stuck in cages to be
flightless like no birds.
metal bars and music bars,
drinking beers from all the bars,
iron shrapnel from all the cars,
razorbites make all the scars,
broken wings fall from all the stars,
brokenhearted, you're far too far.
extinction"when's the right age to start having sex?"extinction in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"but we need to reproduce to stay alive!"
'then what happens to us?"
never met a letterhello,never met a letter in Free Verse More Like This
i am growing my hair out
for you. soon the birds
will entangle themselves in it
and twist nests, nettled
with twigs, into miniature
huddles. they will squirm,
robin's eggs mirroring the
waning tides, and swallow the
you make me feel like i am
supposed to be the sun
instead of a stupid girl
with her flat hat and cat eyes.
i swath myself in
manufactured clouds, drawing
a long white face still
heavy enough to
drown a soul.
i am the ugliest clam in
printed with the illusion that
inside my mundane shell,
i hold a shellacked pearl on
my tongue. you will pry
me open at the hinges, rusted
copper breaking into shrapnel,
and see that i am