zero.5. I think I'm afraid of sex.
It's terrifying that two people can fit together perfectly, without even really liking each other at all.
4. I'm afraid of the day I start replacing myself with somebody else in all of our pictures; of the day I'll see my reflection and wish I didn't have to.
3. I'm afraid of doctors, and medicine.
The first time I took lithium, I couldn't hold it down. So I locked the bathroom door and flushed the entire bottle.
The second time, I couldn't walk more than ten steps without falling.
Honestly, I'm just wondering why they use poison to purify me.
2. I'm afraid of the ocean.
I'm afraid of looking down one day, and not seeing the edges. Of there being nothing there.
I'm afraid of falling and having nothing to catch me.
There's already nobody. The ground is really all I have.
1. I'm afraid of breaking things.
Like, once, I broke my dad's trust in me.
Once I broke somebody's heart.
Once I broke my kindergarten teacher's favorite
short-term memory.and you'll never forget:short-term memory. in Emotional More Like This
When you realized that everybody dies alone.
When you didn't take your eyeliner off one night, so in the morning
your eyes would look as hollow as you felt.
When you spent a year blacking out the sad endings in your books.
(When you wished that life could also work like that.)
When you learnt that "We need a break" means "I am going to break your heart."
When you fell in love with the stars, and the way he says "us."
When he told you, "More than just a long time."
The first time you hung up to the sound of your father laughing.
When you walked home from a party in January, and couldn't remember
if you were still breathing.
When you begged him to let you be sad, and he smiled and said, "No."
When you saw the irony of drawing trees on paper – and how alive you've felt
after being sure you were dead.
eight things about growing up.eighteight things about growing up. in Emotional More Like This
I told my brother I was going to be a fairy when I grew up. Or a bird, or sprite something with wings so I could touch the clouds.
I learned that fairies weren't real when I was six, after I tried to jump off a parking structure to see if I could fly.
That day I also broke my leg in three places and saw an angel's face in the clouds. (And don't tell anybody, but sometimes I spend all day looking for him.)
My neighbors back in Denver had a son who was a schizophrenic. After he went off his meds for the third time, he painted the windows red and told his wife she had to abort their baby because it wasn't human.
A year later, I heard that he was arrested after pointing a hunting rifle on his family. It was loaded, but he didn't pull the trigger because his mother said she trusted him.
I guess love is kind of like that, too.
Seattle didn't come until I was fifteen, in October.
My family and I took a boat ride on Friday. We listened to the captain
queen of nothing.what I've learned:queen of nothing. in Emotional More Like This
I still remember singing in my room when I was six, and having my mother come down the hall and slam the door so hard that the windows shook.
Her nails hurt when she scraped the tears off my face. "It doesn't matter what you want," she'd always tell me.
Like, when that drunk driver swerved and hit her car I didn't want her to leave me, and it didn't matter.
Once on vacation I bought a pair of fuzzy leather heels for two hundred dollars, and when I wore them to dinner, I found out that
1. "Suede" is a fancy word for "fuzzy leather."
And 2. Good things don't last: That night my cousin told me that she thought 135 pounds was a little too big for five foot eight. So I tore my tights up to the thigh and threw those new suede heels in the garbage.
It felt good later, to know that they couldn't hate me more than I hate myself.
My six-word story from ninth grade reads, "If I don't laugh, I'll cry."
When I read that treating people like trash to gets them to nee
red leaves and Robert Frost.When I was young, my virginity was sacred. Entire religions pray over it and my father bought a gun so long as it meant protecting it.red leaves and Robert Frost. in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
We throw away half of our refrigerator each week meanwhile, 24,000 people die of starvation every day.
Hardest part is, sometimes wasting things can't be helped.
At the bus stop, before I could drive, boys would ask for my phone number while I tugged up the neck of my shirt. Asked me how old I was while I crossed my legs under my skirt.
I told them I had a boyfriend even when it wasn't true, because they'll always respect another man more than my disinterest.
Hearing "I love you" for the first time is like getting hit by a train and only feeling the angel as they pull you up to Heaven.
People who are manic can jump off roofs or sell their house to buyers who don't exist.
For me, it was fucking six guys in four days and spending $150 in three.
That wasn't good enough, though, so instead of help all I got was a smiley-face sticker and long, quiet c
april 18th, 2012.therapy:april 18th, 2012. in Emotional More Like This
"I'm not an artist. I'm just a kid with a keyboard."
“And, y'know, I’m probably not really sick.”
“I read a lot of books. I probably just act like this because I saw it somewhere on the Internet.”
“I just want to be more like my dad.”
“I’m really just a pathological crybaby who wants attention,” I tell you.
You say, “I think there are better ways to get attention than fake a mental disorder.”
“Maybe I’m doing it for fun.”
The problem isn’t that I need to see a therapist.
The problem is that I need to see a therapist because I dream about slamming your head into a tree.
Right after we broke up, you took me to the bike cage and promised me everything would be okay. Then you got together with that fifteen year old from Michigan and told our friends that I was a freak.
Slamming your head into a tree might be painful, but nothing will ever hurt more than kn
was it easy?i.was it easy? in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
When I met you, I would only bring tragedies up to the rooftop, or down to the street corner, or to the bike cage. You asked me if any of them were true.
"You make the saddest stories so beautiful with that pen," you said, on the same day that we held hands for the first time and I found out you smoked.
It's all we are now, though. Just more depressing words from my pen. You loved my writing that much; and that was more than me, and it ruined us.
The January before you turned twenty-one, you told me you were afraid to become an adult. "I don't want to be somebody a child will hate."
You had always smelled like peppermint, cologne, and the truth, and it made me so sure when I told you, "You won't be. You're different."
And hey it wouldn't be the first time I was wrong.
We spent the summer talking about baby names and our house in Colorado. You wanted a daughter and I wanted four boys, and one of them had to be called James.
It was October when
and i have tried to make it right.i.and i have tried to make it right. in Free Verse More Like This
let me tell you a story
using six words.
their names become parts of statistics.
let me tell you a story
using six words.
“suicide is the easy way out.”
let me tell you a story
using six words
that will never be told.
pain is not a fucking
do you still pray,
knowing there will be no answer?
see, i cannot speak for those
who have no voice to give
but, sincerely, these are the six words
i respond with:
i wish i could save you.
we live our lives being told that
there is always a safety net -
that there are people designed to protect us.
i’m going to use six words because,
the saddest stories
take the fewest words to tell.
for them, there was never anyone.
blades can cut wrists but
here are six words:
blades can cut stories short, too.
i have approximately 250,000 words
to choose from
to try and describe to you what suicide is
but i don’t
infinite/opposite.being an adult means knowinginfinite/opposite. in Free Verse More Like This
that there are things much scarier
than spiders, or snakes, or clowns.
the ocean, for one.
losing your parents.
empty tequila bottles.
waking up, still reaching
for someone who left you
a long time ago.
i live like there’s an end for me
because there is.
plants will wilt.
forests will burn down.
eventually, even the stars will burn out.
people will come to us.
they will touch us. they will hurt us.
they may keep us. they may not.
but i never hold on too tight
because when it’s time, my time,
i’ll only be letting go.
the heart has valves
that constantly open and close
giving love, taking love.
and my best advice
is to be selfish.
know when you’ve had enough.
know when you deserve better.
close the valves and
keep some love for yourself.
know that you are perfect
even if you eat that second cheeseburger
because there’s magic in this world.
we’re proof of it.
is fear o
dichotomy.i.dichotomy. in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
there’s a monster inside of my head.
it moved in four years ago, but they say it’s always been there. my daddy has one. so does his mom.
they say that’s where i got it. dad says grammy’s monster made her beat him until he was seven. dad says his monster made him drink until he blacked out, for twenty years.
they all say, “don’t let it in.” they all say, “it’ll control you, because you are weak.”
(actually, they say “vulnerable.”)
they tell me its name, so i can paint it on my wrists, on my forehead, along the curves of my ears. keep out. no BIPOLAR DISORDER allowed. they say it notices loud things. capital letters, for one. or crying children. or hatred. or fear.
they do not tell me what it’s like to see it. they do not tell me what’s it like, to feel it burrowing under your skin.
when it came to me, i pleaded with it. i said, “please go away,” and it didn’t listen.
adults.i.adults. in Philosophical More Like This
The media doesn’t support a positive body image
because it’s not good for business.
They want us anxious and afraid
of seeing the numbers on a scale go up.
We’re not worth our weight in gold.
It’s what we don’t weigh
My first boyfriend, who panicked when I touched him
would say “I’m fat”
the way somebody says “I should have never been born.”
They want us spending our money
on designer jeans, instead of groceries,
on concealer and diet plans, instead of an education.
Please don’t starve yourself.
Believe me, I’ve tried
and your body will start to eat itself from the inside out and
if you let it
it’ll get to some valuable stuff.
they’ll only appreciate your body when it’s a corpse.
They won’t notice you
until there’s nothing to be noticed
they’ll mourn and wish for something
that is no longer
In the second grade, I learned that
BloodI've got a filthy mouth,Blood in Free Verse More Like This
& a house of stars
thriving in my throat.
& I still have yet to tame
this grounded constellation
I call my temple. -Slithering
tongue hissing too many
"fuck you's" against my teeth.
I fear I will write myself hollow-
or until my bones are corroded away
& I am nothing-
an insignificant nebula
orbiting the wrong atmosphere.
But, my veins bleed sweet ichor,
& words are only words, Mother.
TroyYou have too much time on your hands, Love,Troy in Free Verse More Like This
folding paper cranes with broken fingers,
wishing to see northern lights in the eyes of strangers.
There are no lions between your bed sheets
who understand your hunger better than I-
You are licking my wounds; one with the wild.
I swear it's you behind these eyelids- untamed
and desired by this lonely poetic canvas
stained with blood, ink, and words I can't fucking say.
You look like a Goddess standing there reading my skin
quiet and shameless, proud of the gaping hole in my chest.
I know it then, like I know my own counterclockwise heart;
I should never trust my own kind.
"I'll build you up, my Troy, just to tear you down again."
And I whispered please, please, please...
I miss you, and i can't say i'm sorryI miss you in Free Verse More Like This
because these slender, spider fingers
ache to trace the curved letters of your name tag,
emily. i notice you write everything in caps.
( have i ever told you
how much i enjoy saying your name, -EMILY. )
you are screaming to the world, quietly.
but we, we are mid-morning whispers
over stale, back room coffee,
silent eyes, and window pane love.
these hearts were runaways once;
hitchhikers on a trail to nowhere.
you shared pieces of yourself with me then,
emily, between beats and bathroom stalls.
you were a gargoyle under the heat
of july summer. evenings were our playground;
rose garden beasts lingering in feverish night.
Androphobiai was stitched lips and a flightless raven heart-Androphobia in Free Verse More Like This
all sex and a contorting spine;
his own lips engraving 'kiss me's' on empty stars.
& between you and me: i feared his teeth,
& tongue, & honest organs-
with skin that begged, 'please, don't touch me.'
don't touch me.
don't fucking touch me.
i am not soft.
there is a war raging in my lungs,
screaming through the uncharted galaxies
of my wanderlust heartstrings.
i am not soft.
i am lust, & war, & envy
i am sin,
& the kind of prosetry yet to be proofread.
but he wanted to claim my guarded ghost eyes
and crossed legs.
'justlet me hold you.'
his callused hands were cancer,
my still body, a clock.
Her eyes scream fill in the _____.They saidHer eyes scream fill in the _____. in Free Verse More Like This
she has starving
little poet fingers,
the heroic hearts
of nameless protagonists.
But, she cries
tears of Saturn
on too-little-sleep nights,
& coffee ringed mornings.
They call her vanilla.
much too ripe to fall
with freckles on her
NecromancyShe replaces her wristsNecromancy in Free Verse More Like This
with the sharp thorns
of roses and slurred
as she speaks
in an old tongued
language that whispers
She collects stars
on her knuckles,
& her dust eyes
are sad moon nebulas
starved for love.
But, the kisses
she sinks into the curve
of her lover's ribcage
by night, warm that
Please, forgive me.Like lies, you saidPlease, forgive me. in Free Verse More Like This
I make breathing the cosmos
through rose colored lungs
look easy- vertebrae stretched
toward the moon.
& I'm hanging my bones
out to dry, carving Saturn's
rings into my wrists- my
star burst ankles.
I swore then I'd keep my
black tongued poetry
& uprooted limbs far,
far away from you.
But, like lies, galaxies,
& night fevers, you
are the destination
on my star map skin.
Show me what the stars look like tonight.I’ve fallen in love with wars & darkness.Show me what the stars look like tonight. in Free Verse More Like This
The kind of darkness said to have made
shadow monsters of seen-too-much eyes
& the kind of war lands made of
desecrated, dandelion wrists.
I am the wind, the morphine pump
& I’ve carved my bones into stars.
I wear them around my neck
like outward sun marrow
warming my carotid pulse.
These little glow-in-the-dark blankets
aren’t enough to stifle the sounds;
but my anatomy never seemed to fit
together the right way anyway.
No wander about it, just lust.You were a mid-morning train wreck,No wander about it, just lust. in Free Verse More Like This
the embodiment of poetry.
& my clavicles whispered too many nothings
about your summer storm hands,
folding like paper cranes
to make wishes upon themselves.
wishes are for the weak-
do something about this quaking heart
& freezing fingers.
I think I found God then,
GravityGravity,Gravity in Free Verse More Like This
Autumn wanted to learn
So, the galaxy of dead trees
coiling in your lungs
devoured her spine.
a lifeline wrapped around
her neck like a noose;
an orange and red
& you said "God bless your
heart." like some divine
higher power could forgive
her for loving you.
admittance is defeatthey called you beautifuladmittance is defeat in Free Verse More Like This
with porcelain eyes about to crack
and cigarette skin crumbling
away, a knotted spine and
you were never gracious.
you're slipping underneath, this
virulent smog masks a paper sky that
never allowed a dream and
you're afraid because it's soaking in
your pores again, unattainable and unoriginal;
the meaning of life never meant enough-
you were never hopeful.
there's a getaway map on the underside
of your pillow, and a lifetime of secrets
on the underside of your bones
you're a walking travesty:
your chest ticks, dull
your wrist beats, dying
time is keeping you but
you were never patient.
you lie large enough to make us believe you
don't entertain nightmares, but what if
no one could hear you scream?
remarkable, it seems
caged birds really know how
to sing out
(you were always beautiful)
ColorblindI gave away my name todayColorblind in Free Verse More Like This
and it might be a metaphor, but I think
we only remember the quietest suicides
the walls are thin enough to listen
as the angels try to scratch free;
bloodied fingernails and God says everyone
screws up, sometimes
I'm waiting for a silent night.
I only ever believed in solid ground
and depressions' tides, and sometimes,
those little wounds I nursed deep
within my vocal chords (because
my voice is dying, too)
I can see the beautiful people, now
overdosing on their own opiums of
self-acquittal and dissolution
they ran out of ways to ask for help.
I'm fragile, but my glass ribs
aren't holding much
and I'm through trying to find something
different, because it's scary to know
what exactly's the same
yesterday I was someone else and
tomorrow I'm further into inevitabilities of
who I promised I'd never be--
I'm waiting for a happy ending,
but if you love something
you let it go.
Justifications and Salted Smiles"I don't think I'm holding on any longerJustifications and Salted Smiles in Free Verse More Like This
I'm diving in.
I wish that you would see,
there's a magical land at the bottom of the ocean
where waterproof lungs let you be
everything you've dreamed.
You can bury underneath the sand
and not be found-
it's the land that's been promised to me
in late night whispers
and burnt tears
wasted on things that don't matter.
I know it's real,
broken minds can't lie
and I can feel it in my bones-
there's something more.
What other reasons would we live for?
They say you inhale saltwater
and exhale enlightenment.
The waves pour over you
and finally make you clean (pure)
No one knows where you are
so your problems don't follow
and neither does time.
It all fades away
until you disintegrate
like your worries.
You can only get there
with a heart that doesn't beat
because humans' empty brains
You need to be all the way gone
I want to go and find myself
and live the dreams I never had.
I swear, it's not that bad-
Poets Always Lieambrosial fabrications arePoets Always Lie in Free Verse More Like This
easier to swallow down when
incandescence is a blessing bestowed
only upon those with silky tongues.
deceptions are beautiful
in the right words
because they are salvation, like a
rapture, they save the sickly,
self-indulgent souls from those
tragedies they used to write on the insides
of childhood notebooks about who
they could never be [themselves]
they rescue them from tremulous
corners and closets, hideaways
where they've grown too akin to
the demons they nurse; and drag
them into a land beautiful enough
to wear light as a second skin
(where lies are never discussed
but always shared)
are so much more comforting
than the absoluteness of reality
because self-resentment is as
natural as a heartbeat to those
who were born breathing and
abhorring and denying all from one
steady gasp of what the existent world
had to offer to them
back then their eyes opened, and
their fingers fumbled, born, they realized
the world wasn't as pretty as promi
Indefinite Tidesshe speaks in vinegar riddlesIndefinite Tides in Free Verse More Like This
and bides her time in shipwrecked
ticking off days for the boy
with stormy eyes who promised
he'd be back in a season or
two. he, who was
crafted from the leftover bits of the moon
and the meandering sky with runaway
stars lurking deep beneath his ribcage,
waiting to fall whenever he spoke
like a saint, whose divine sacraments
parted land and birthed lives; like a
sorcerer whose words launched a
thousand sunken ships but
now, she pops pills like reminders,
stabilizers that last 4-6 hours
depending on her ability to forget
and she's lost in herself
again, among faltering brainwaves
and wavering heartbeats and the
whimpering echo of her own worst fears
like: he's gone and he took all
that's good of me with him,
my weighted bones and my bated breath
and my lingering hope, too
that thing with feathers that
cries when it's plucked clean,
skeletal and bare and smooth
enough for me to rest my weary head on.
see, the ocean cracked and regurgitated
Cyanide MindI lost my voiceCyanide Mind in Free Verse More Like This
choking on my own tongue.
The words still spill out
from my eyes.
I bit my lips raw
hoping to stem the flow,
but ideas still drip
from my fingertips.
A soggy brain leaks, I suppose
and all my thoughts taste like tar
expired warningsI hate to break it to you but we're all betting on the day whenexpired warnings in Free Verse More Like This
your nightmares will swallow you whole and you won't
remember how to open your eyes. we forget your voice,
it broke and no one buried the pieces. we're giving you up:
secessions (your ribcage is a civil war, your heart is the victim.
there will be no memorial; there are only red flags)
obsessions pick your bones dry, vulture needs, vulgar
mortality argues at least you're not alive
at least you can't see us anymore, counting the knots
in your neck and catastrophes in your mouth. in
your summer cage you were a soggy butterfly bearing
a cumbersome cross. now, we leave you naked and
seizuring on winter's doorstep as the little lamb who
never loved enough.
they haven't paid you for the dreams you pawned years ago
in exchange for a little sleep, no, they tied more rocks to your
ankles and begged you to fly - they said they traded your
misformed hopes for something a bit more fitting, a solid
dose of reality with a hint of self-h
Call Me Cicatricein a sloping curve, the scar covered his backCall Me Cicatrice in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
like an indefinite symbol of defiance. puckered
at the ridges, slithering across his shoulder blades, it was
something special in the way it interrupted his skin
/chronicle incomplete/ I reached out to touch it,
he caught my hand "you always did find beauty
in the broken." they always had more stories to tell.
I was something inexperienced (but never innocent).
I fell for his natural enjambments and
inability to meet my eyes. he fell for
the fact I was freshly born (but never young).
our first kiss was under a sycamore tree
that watched the world pass by. he said
he wanted to steal away my words, I knew
he was trying not to collapse. the tree
stood on as our lives expanded into something
entirely new, but exactly the same. "we always
try to build new beginnings to find a way
back to our firsts." but resets don't work.
he held his head highest on the days the sky was low,
for a reason he'd never explain /reminiscent/
I told him, onc
Leaveme.Leave in Free Verse More Like This
I no longer house sanity
only ghosts that were never
told how to move on.
maybe we used to be the same,
but now your cracked reflection
only adds to my years of bad luck
you never counted the lines in my smile,
or the notes between my freckles,
you only measured me.
I'm something to get by on,
but I'm simply not enough.
my watered-down voice
is growing weaker.
and you feed me sugar pills
to diminish the pain
(these bones still bleed)
there are vultures in your eyes,
they know what's coming next
children call on saviors to vanquish demons
from their closets and I'm begging
the silent priests to
they didn't understand what I meant
when I said you stole my breath away
if I turn on the lights,
would you disappear like the times
when I needed help?
I live in waking fear of silence
(I know it's where you wait)
softenedthe sky whispers,softened in Free Verse More Like This
ribbons of crystalline quiet,
same shade as the angel dust
you shivered every time we were
in the darkness, we were
sorry birds searching for
open dawns. you, the
swan, me, the
black as night and
just as hopeful.
and there were poems
written in your skin, universes
blooming in your hands; your eyes
were a December sunrise saving me
from any sleep.
I’ve decided that
people are a composition of
all their greatest memories—and you,
you were always the most
beautiful piece of
It Came From The DarkIt Came From The Dark:It Came From The Dark in Free Verse More Like This
Amongst the ashes, swirling from the darkness of the pit,
Emerged a hand, dragging a battered body across the rocks.
Blood leaked from the wounds so callously self-inflicted,
And teeth ground with a focused determination and seething anger.
It cared not for the warm rubies - staining the jagged rocks,
It cared not for the sensation of pain...
All that it remembered was a dream, An obsession -
One that drove it ever higher; ignoring all else!
Eventually it emerged from this shadowy hole, this dreary depth,
And in that moment, it learned of the truth.
For this creature, denied sunlight and warmth -
-Chen Yuan Wen, 11th December 2012
You Have No Right To LiveYou Have No Right To Live:You Have No Right To Live in Free Verse More Like This
Hey, what are you doing?
That's mine, now give it back.
You're stupid, you should just go die!
Okay, I'm sorry...
What, you failed again?
Just how much money do you think we're spending on this,
Do you think it just falls from the sky?
I can't believe you; and don't give me that look!
You better straighten up now you hear me
And if you keep looking like a dead fish,
I'm going to make you wish you were one.
Hey, being around you is driving me nuts,
You never want to do anything, you don't even care,
Why bother even breathing if you're going to act like you're dead!
A lousy person like you should just go die!
okay, fine! I will...
-Chen Yuan Wen, 26th November 2012
To The Beautiful YouTo The Beautiful You:To The Beautiful You in Free Verse More Like This
Here we are, sitting behind these screens of glass,
Reading lines of text, yet smiling, laughing and crying.
It's strange to think that I could have this much fun -
Considering that I've never met you before, but then again
Perhaps that's the reason why I don't have to pretend.
Some people might tell me, that what we have is just a fantasy,
I doubt I'll have the chance to actually see you in this life-time.
But even so, in the time that we've spent together - Well,
I feel as though I've connected with you, more than anyone else.
I feel as though I know you better, than those just a few feet away.
You might take this little confession as something silly,
Maybe you'll even forget about it as time passes,
But I for one could never forget about someone like you,
And so I'd like to dedicate this piece, to the beautiful you.
-Chen Yuan Wen, 17th December 2012
HopeHope:Hope in Free Verse More Like This
She waits for him
at the gates that stood when even the world crumbled
knowing that her own name will soon be forgotten
Where once she carried the weight of the world
now her strength is but the tiniest whisper
A single spark, left to crackle amongst the shades
until all is lost in the endless folds of time
It's getting colder
though she still continues to stand by the gates
She is getting older
and thus her memories must fade...
Angels gather to watch her in these final moments
and they bow their heads as a sign of respect
For even now, as the life leaves her body
Still she continues to wait...
-Chen Yuan Wen, 27th July 2012
This is for the ReaderThis is for the Reader:This is for the Reader in Free Verse More Like This
With the soft touch of his fingers
The piano begins to play, a heart untouched for so long
Bares its secret melody...
When I first started out I couldn't avoid just bein' cold
My life revolved the things that I was always told
I never knew the warmth of standing up to take a bow
It was not a joy that I would ever-ever be allowed
Through all the days I feared that everything would disappear
You held me up and held me close like I was something dear
I never knew I had a part of me that you would like
I guess that's what you feel when you can't even see the light
So this is the only way, that I can
Properly express my thanks
For everything you've done for me
This my way of thanks
My way of thanks
My way of thanks
I can't remember how many times I said I'd quit the game
It felt like I was hitting blocks and always feeling lame
But then you taught me that no matter what, you were here
You read the worst of my works and put
She's Not Your ToyShe's Not Your Toy:She's Not Your Toy in Free Verse More Like This
Mmm, it's okay sweetie
Just stay quiet
It'll all be over soon...
Creaking springs and quiet eyes
Cold without emotion
The smell of fear is mixed with sweat
Breath like a churning ocean
The waves and tide will push and pull
as water fills the cave
The heart longs to stop itself
when there is nothing left to save
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday dear Jenna
Happy birthday to you...
A shock of pain brings her back to the present
The muscular form above her contracting in the dark
She remembers now that her limbs are pinned
but she would not move them anyway...
Happy birthday sweetheart, you're older now
You've grown up well haven't you...
A single shuddering thrust means that everything has ended
and once again a wet worm is pressed to her lips
The weight lifts from her body, leaving red marks around the wrists
limbs denied blood begin to buzz softly as the silence suffocates
She will not move from here, because i
You Left Me StrongerYou Left Me Stronger:You Left Me Stronger in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Hey there, it's been awhile, do you remember me?
I guess you might not, since I wasn't very important to you.
You know, I spent so many days thinking about - what I did wrong
I questioned if maybe, I was at fault or if I was screwed up.
I thought a lot about the things you said...
The things that were my fault, my problems.
I took them to heart at first, but then I realised you were wrong.
I realised that you are selfish and ugly on the inside.
On the surface you pretended to care, but like a cancer;
You amputate someone the moment you think they've gone bad.
You hide from the rigours of life and only emerge like a parasite
When everything is good - when everything is fine and dandy.
I used to think that I was afraid of you leaving,
But now I know, that you've left me stronger than I was before.
You know, this was supposed to be an emotional whine; an emotional spill,
Maybe I was supposed to cry tears and beg you to come back, but you know wha
Painted SkinPainted Skin:Painted Skin in Free Verse More Like This
He smiles at you, as you enter the office;
Wearing eyeliner made of contempt and disdain.
His cheap cologne invades your nostrils immediately
And you quickly suppress a cough.
"Yes, yes, indeed we have to review this...er, many things are involved."
His face is powdered with a layer of self-importance;
Lips reddened by the polite harshness he spews.
His forked tongue flickers as he prattles on
And you're really getting quite tired.
"Oh I'm sorry! Of course, of course I understand; but my way is much better!"
You're getting really bored now, so you take a look around the room.
The expectation is to see it bedecked with acolades;
Yet bare walls, cold and empty, are all that greets you.
"Are you listening to me, I'm telling you why this isn't good enough. LISTEN TO ME!"
You take a look at the cup of coffee you were offered,
Cheap and lukewarm; you narrow your eyes.
"Is there a problem? I'm being honest, this is for YOUR OWN GOOD!"
DenialDenial:Denial in Free Verse More Like This
He stands before the mountains
and sighs, knowing that they reach toward the heavens
He begins his climb
his hands soon bloodied, his fingers digging into the hardened stone
He continues to drag himself
against the crags that scrape against his peeling skin
Unwilling to end his climb prematurely
though the rocks continue to slice into his flesh
Blood is drawn with a single desperate gasp
as pain rings out throughout his frame
His feet tremble and his hands grow numb
but still he continues to climb ever higher...
The winds threaten to throw him from the face of the mountain
and they slowly begin to waste him away
His body turns to dust and is scattered away amongst the clouds
But still he presses on!
Eventually, all that is left of this man
is a pair of hands clinging stubbornly to the rocks
and though the winds may blow, the man's spirit wills them on
Inch by painful inch they climb, undetered and utterly determined
For even if he lacks a body, even if he has nothing lef
This is a SongThis is a song for the lost, the broken and the damned,This is a Song in Free Verse More Like This
This is a song for the hopeless, the outgunned and the outmanned.
This is one for the sinners, and the non-believers too,
This is a song for all those people, people just like YOU!
This is the anthem of the normal, the oppressed and the abused,
This is a song for those people hidden from everybody's views.
This is the prayer of the unwanted, the unneeded and the small,
This is one for the unheeded, so let's give it our all!
This is a song for the people, who always just want to cry,
This is the anthem for those who have once wanted to die!
This is a song for all the people, that are dead inside,
This is a song for everyone, who has ever cried.
-by Forgotten-Reaper, 24th July 2012
Crayon SoulmatesDear Stars,Crayon Soulmates in Free Verse More Like This
I have a bone to pick with you. You see, when I was six, I called myself the nowhere girl... and I coloured myself a soulmate. I made him on crumpled sheets, with broken pieces of crayon, on a playground that was too busy wondering whether growing up entailed stealing your mother's cigarettes and your father's dirty magazines (I suppose I was already wise enough to know that growing up meant choosing one of the many ways of breaking yourself in two.)
I hope you remember him, stars...he was important to me (My mother threw that drawing away on my seventh birthday and told me that girls are not supposed to have such dreams.).
He had hair as ebony as deep onyx and a smile that never grew up (Peter Pan would have been proud). He was magic in soul form, and smelled like cinnamon and the earth after it has rained. His eyes rivaled a lions on the best of his youth, his words were story shaped. His skin was an ink coloured canvas of wonder and even in crayon he was a sight of awe.
I'm Not the Marrying KindI'm not the marrying kind.I'm Not the Marrying Kind in Free Verse More Like This
I have stones in my hair instead of flowers,
And a rosebush of thorns is more poignant to me.
I'm not the marrying kind.
My words aren't pretty or wise,
And I can't sing about anything but a broken heart.
I'm not the marrying kind.
I am the sort of damaged you see in an old recorder,
And the kind of old in an instrument that breaks into a billion pieces at a touch.
I'm not the marrying kind.
Neither neat, nor tidy, nor correct in my behavior,
And yes, I did in fact tell you to fuck yourself.
I'm not the marrying kind.
I do not stay silent in arguments,
And I like to lie compulsively, just to see your face change.
I'm not the marrying kind.
I am not the ideal of any lady, nor her likes,
And I do not allow any man to walk all over me.
No. I am not the marrying kind.
But I do like the idea of a little girl with her mo
LustHis hands have a habit of finding my hip bones,Lust in Free Verse More Like This
trailing his river like fingers along my stone smooth skin,
his lips do not move, his mouth tells me stories.
Mine spend their time
tracing the length and breadth
of his back in kisses*
We travel through lands that never existed
before we touched them
At temperatures far exceeding in Fahrenheit
If only we could understand
how lust and geography
make such divinely sinful bedmates.
* One hundred and sixteen
Bones"There are good days and there are bad days," you would say to me as you would try and explain away why the whiskey bottle was empty again this morning, why you smelled like her and why you thought it was best to let me know what you had done. At least that way, you were absolved of the gift of lying; the one your bones were too light to lift and just couldn't take, by bestowing me with betrayal.Bones in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
My mother would bring me an encouraging cup of tea in a giant pink mug instead of a cup and explain, "There are good days and there are bad days." Her eyes were always full of positive energy and strength and good will. I look back to those days and try and gain the strength she had in her bones from her words. I always fail.
They told me I had a disease within my bones. It started from the bottom of my knee and was moving upwards. Because that is what bones did. They broke from the inside out. "There will be good days and bad days," they warned me. I knew at that very point that it was going
After Words"I wish you would give it back to me."After Words in Free Verse More Like This
"Why? You'll just break it again."
"It's my heart. I will do whatever the hell I want with it."
"Yeah? Well, you take terrible care of things that are yours."
"Fine. Keep it. I am equal parts concrete and soul anyway."
"You say that, but I'm not entirely sure that you are. I think you're deep, and fragile and broken, and that makes you beautiful."
"Again, concrete and soul. "
"I wish you wouldn't make this so hard."
"So hard? I'm making this easy. You gave me dreams of half feathered swans and a stupid house on an endless beach and a city made of an ocean, and now you're taking it all away. But at least I had them for a while."
"Don't be that way."
"I am going to be awake every single night and wish for a shooting star, so I can wish upon that shooting star to wish thoughts of you away."
"I wish this could be easier on you. You gave me so much and so many too."
"So much of love and so many wishes?"
"No, so much wishing and so many love
Body Speak, Mouth Don't."I need a favour. You got a minute?"Body Speak, Mouth Don't. in Free Verse More Like This
No. No I don't.
My heart feels ripped out of my chest and trampled on too often.
My ears open to screams in the morning.
My eyes close crying every night.
My mind always turns dreams into nightmares.
My lungs contract too soon for me to catch my breath.
My worries far outweigh my years.
My brain feels overworked, overwrought, so tired.
My stomach cramps every night and I curl up in pain.
My knees weaken often but I'm still standing.
My mouth goes dry and I can't speak.
My hands dampen because I have too much to think about.
My bones feel weaker than they ever have before.
But I don't think it's anything to be worried about, really.
"Sure. How can I help you?"
Nothing Lives Foreveri.Nothing Lives Forever in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
When you were a child, we would sit on the porch to talk about your day. And sometimes, we would find a dead bird, or a frog on there. And you would ask me about death and why it happens, looking at the poor creature in my hands, its life cut short and touch it tenderly. I would always say the same thing.
Nothing is meant to live forever, my dear.
The school called me in on your twelfth birthday and asked if I had known how clever you were, that your test scores were the best in the state. They asked me if I knew I had a genius child on my hands who grew bored easily in class and tended to distract others in his classroom, sometimes causing arguments, fistfights and could manipulate his classmates into doing anything.
We don't think this is the school for him. He needs to be challenged appropriately.
You fell in love at seventeen and she was lovely. Kind, caring and beautiful, I couldn't ask for a better girl for you. She was our neighbour
Constructive Criticism"Tell me what you think."Constructive Criticism in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"Of the poem?"
"No, of my face. Yes, the poem."
"I was going to say, because your face is just stupid."
"Very funny. Read."
"What did you think?"
"Why did you write this?"
"I wrote it for you."
"You make me self conscious when you say things like that."
"I'm not worth this you know."
"What does that mean?"
"I am half a girl, and I deserve half a poem."
"That is not true, and you still haven't told me what you really thought about it."
"It's as broken and complex and half hearted as a sad song about the way you feel ink trail between your fingers like it's blood. There is no reason for it, it's the kind of beautiful that is there just for being there. It happened, it's a moment in time forever frozen and to be remembered in a way that candles that burn in holy places should be. It's a forever, all by itself- Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Because you believe you deserve half a poem."
"I do. I am too damaged and broken an
Judgement"You need to stop doing this."Judgement in Short Stories More Like This
"Stop doing what?"
"Writing me into your stories."
"Because it scares me. I'm not this guy that you write about. I'm not some kind of Prince Charming and I'm certainly not a sea God or whatever you like to say about my eyes every now and then."
"Yeah. You really need to work on your judgement of people, because this is all wrong. It's like you don't know me at all!"
"So why don't you correct me and I'll fix my idea of you accordingly."
"Well firstly, I'm a really nervous person."
"Yeah. Your hands are either fiddling with your hair or your sleeve, or you're biting your nails."
"And I don't like going out. I'm a hermit."
"Except to your best friends' houses, or to the animal shelter, or to me."
"And I'm dead inside."
"Says the boy who hides his tears at the sight of an injured puppy."
"I do not."
"Yes, you do."
"Anyway, I'm not always nice to you. In fact, I really don't do enough."
"You're right. Except yo
Astrologically Challenged“We need to ta- what are you looking at?”Astrologically Challenged in Free Verse More Like This
"Oh...but I thought you didn't like them."
“Actually, I hate horoscopes. They lie every single damned time.”
“Not to me they don’t.”
“Sure. You were saying something.”
“We need to break up.”
“I fell in love with you before you were the boy who sang about my problems in your songs, and before you tried to evolve me into your version of a better me and before I saw how you treated your neighbour’s dog and before I knew how much you believed in horoscopes.”
“What’s wrong with horoscopes?”
“Nothing, except for the fact that you never really thought of it as a novel idea that you share the same day as one twelfth of the world.”
“Well you aren’t-”
“I’m not so perfect myself, I know. You loved me better before you read my poetry and understood how damage
BlindWhen I close my green eyesBlind in Free Verse More Like This
If I focus I can see
People and places from my past
Etched in my memory
If a blind man closes his eyes
What can he possibly see
Without any visual images
Stored in his memory
How do I describe colour
To man who is born blind
The same way I describe my love
Within these heart felt rhymes
When I close my green eyes
I use my mind to conjure up
Dreams of the future, based on
Pages already written in my book
If a blind woman closes her eyes
What future can she see
Unable to visualise
Her fate and her destiny
How do I describe colour
To woman who is born blind
The same way I describe my love
Within these heart felt rhymes
Every Time With The Same BrushEvery time with the same brushEvery Time With The Same Brush in Free Verse More Like This
This girl paints so many strokes
Each one speaking of emotions
Louder than the words she wrote
So where does the magic lie,
Allowing this girl's mood to swing?
Is it in the paint or the colours,
The feeling of release it brings?
She lets go of those emotions
That are too painful to express
The open ear of a loved one
Now an empty white canvas
Cathartic is the process
With her dainty little strokes
Thick layers of paint will take us
To land's nobody else knows
Now she paints with love for us
And happiness in her heart
The trees, the flowers, the sunset
The smiles, the eyes, the stars
Every time with same brush
Just different colours and shades
As the white canvas disappears
Her negative thoughts begin to fade
Only When I WriteThe drama unfurling in my lifeOnly When I Write in Free Verse More Like This
Feels like the shadow of my hand
That grows as it comes ever closer
To the light perched on my bed stand
In that I can feel the darkest cloud
Ever such a menacing sight
In time I can reverse the feeling
But only when I write
Seclusion left me with nothing
Apart from creativity
Loneliness it turns out, my friends
Is quite the aperitif
For the feast that is awaiting me
If I make it through the night
Tomorrow always brings me new hope
But only when I write
You approach me on a good day
And I will offer you a smile
The same expression on the worst days
Because my manners are so mild
But don’t take me for a toothless fool
When cornered I’ve been known to bite
Fear not, those demons remain at bay
But only when I write
Your Life's A StageLife is comparable to a bookYour Life's A Stage in Free Verse More Like This
Which would make today a page
Don't dream of the drama unfolding
Act it out upon the stage
If the stage is your lonely room
And the theatre is your home
Then why not be the protagonist
Heroes never die alone
If you are treading those boards tonight
Then be careful how you go
Show the world and open your mind
To learn things that remain unknown
And if you are the director
Make sure the cast know their lines
If their actions stray away from the plot
Then cast them out of your life
If you are seeking attention
Awaiting ovation from the stalls
Be sure to do something worthy
Before the last curtain falls
Our fallen hero or heroine
Will rise for their final applause
Unlike a play we've no such luxury
For us there will be no encore
Bi-PolaroidWill you take a Polaroid pictureBi-Polaroid in Free Verse More Like This
And shake it in your hand
As you wait for it to develop
Please try to understand
That my smile might as well be painted
My tears photoshopped out
I'll add a caption on the reverse
So there will be no doubt
That I swing low like a pendulum
In a grandfather clock
That I fly high as a soaring kite
With each tick and each tock
Will you take a Polaroid picture
And hold me in your hands
As you wait for me to develop
Please try to understand
There'll be days when I'm as cold as ice
I'll thaw myself for you
And those things I said with aggression
I will try to undo
You should take me in to a dark room
And shake me till its clear
The love I show you is very real
The hate just comes from fear
Suicide On Your LipsI tried so hard to pull awaySuicide On Your Lips in Free Verse More Like This
At the end of the night when we kissed
But as you begged me once again to stay
I could taste suicide on your lips
And such an intoxicating fragrance
Far removed from the stench of death
Such a beautiful perfume of life
Of a lost girl hollow from neglect
Am I too late to save her my Lord
Will those lips ever smile again
When razorblade remedies are scarring
Her beautiful porcelain skin
You spoke of your sorrows till midnight
Then you slept in my arms until dawn
Awoke and cried tears until midday
For your past and your present you mourned
And when the last tear finally fell
I explained I'd never leave your side
Heartfelt words alone wouldn't do
I painted our future with pride
Together we created a masterpiece
A magnum opus beyond compare
I now kiss those lips on a basis daily
The taste of suicide is no longer there
In Love, I RemainI hold the guitar against meIn Love, I Remain in Free Verse More Like This
But I'm afraid it just wont do
No notes that I play could compare
To the symphony that is you
So who is the orchestrator
Of this harmonic elegance
The beauty of which sustains me
With such a lasting resonance
Angels, please sing us a chorus
And paint the clouds so silver lined
May she always dream in colour
And may I always speak in rhyme
One single whispered word from her
Always seems to eclipse my pain
With belief, hope and destiny
Forever in love, I remain
I hold the paintbrush in my hand
Until creative thoughts will cease
But no strokes could ever come close
To your beautiful masterpiece
Each colour is so delicate
So rare and so understated
From a birth and a blank canvas
To potential God created
Angels, please sing us a chorus
And paint the clouds so silver lined
May she always dream in colour
And may I always speak in rhyme
One single whispered word from her
Always seems to eclipse my pain
With belief, hope and destiny
Forever in love, we re
I Was On A CloudI was the boy who remained silentI Was On A Cloud in Free Verse More Like This
Through those weeks, months and years
Watching the tide begin to rise
From all of your fallen tears
A tide of insecurity
That in time became so deep
It would set about draining you
Of all the secrets that you keep
I was the boy who remained mute
I watched your life unfold from above
As you were shattered with pain
And given false hope with love
So many times I was tempted
To come and heal my angels pain
But up above in the blue sky
For now at least I would remain
I was the boy who stayed silent
A hush so deafeningly loud
You were never alone though
Princess, I was on a cloud
I watched as all of these things
Came to pass down below
And why didn't I intervene?
I had faith that alone you would grow
Wait (My Virgin)Where did you learn to be promiscuous?Wait (My Virgin) in Free Verse More Like This
When did purity become a dirty word?
There is more than one way to stimulate
And commitment is indeed a verb
The pressure he will put upon you
Or the pressure you will put onto him
Is equal and opposite to the regret
And the feeling that you have sinned
Where did you learn to be promiscuous?
When did purity become a dirty word?
Physically able to copulate
But think about the consequences first
The pressure they will put upon you
To lose your innocence as quickly as them
All because they regret their actions
And want you to follow their trend
Where did you learn to be promiscuous?
Don't give your virginity so care free
Absolute control over your emotions
Absolute control over your body
The pressure they will put upon you
Will be laughable in years to come
Your friends, they rushed and found nothing
You waited patiently and found the one
That Girl In The MirrorHappiness will remain forever out of reachThat Girl In The Mirror in Free Verse More Like This
When love from your life you omit
To the girl in the mirror; you are beautiful
Yet somehow you never quite fit
Not the girl they thought you’d turn out to be
When you were a neonate child
Born with a raging heart and a raging mind
But with a manner ever so mild
Your scars aren’t always visible to them
And not only hidden under attire
Lacerations to the mind are just as abhorrent
When memories and dreams conspire
So girl break the mirror if you have to
And reflect on your life as a whole
Do you really want to spend the rest of your days
Behind a façade of self control?
Please be strong enough to go your own way
Indeed go against the grain
In your field of dreams stand up and be counted
And maybe others will do the same
You are unique and you are so beautiful
You’re everything someone else is not
The light of your reflection will shine on
Through the looking glass your childhood begot
a siren's song.her ribcage burst into flowersa siren's song. in Free Verse More Like This
as her lungs swam to sea
and the world was silent
-like a film set on mute-
as it watched her dance
into her coral grave.
she grinned and laughed
and all you could hear
was the metallic scraping
of her tongue on her teeth
as her coppery laugh
fell into the ocean-
like a penny onto concrete.
her hair was a tangle of seaweed
drenched in brine
and adorned with salt flecks
that caught the sun in waves
crashing along the shoreline
in the treble notes of symphonies.
ensnared in wanderlust,
she ran towards the current
in hopes of finding herself
among the lost.
she wore fish-scales
on her clavicle
and sung her way down
to the bottom of atlantis.
the ships out at bay that day
only remember one thing:
she sunk like the titanic,
her bones tearing at the seams
and all that remained of her
were two hands
(whose knuckles were mountains
and skin was land)
receding into the curls
as the earth drowned into the sea.
and there was nothing left on the horizon
the artist.01.the artist. in Free Verse More Like This
the sky was earl grey
and the clouds were steamy sips
and i wanted to drink it all.
the leaves were star yellow
and the bark smelled of coffee
and the bakery was selling a moon made out of cheese.
there was an old man on a bench
he threw his wedding band in the sewer
i cried for him.
the birds were dreams
and the mountains, my obstacles,
tally ho young adventurer tally ho
i ran into an artist today
he drew signs on corner post buildings
but he also gave his lunch to a homeless boy.
my mom holds black holes beneath her eyes
and for the first time in days, she spoke to me,
"i'm worried about you. try to make some friends?"
dear mom, i am trying
i played chess with a man in the park
i helped a girl find her parents
i am content with who i am, mom,
now i am just trying to help others achieve the same.
i ran into the artist again today
and he taught me how to paint
and then he smiled at me and said, "you're different than the rest."
we made plans, me and
Insert creative title here.sometimes I hate the ideaInsert creative title here. in Free Verse More Like This
I rather eat the autumn
skies crushing cold air between my molars
and hiding shaky hands
between pages of dictionaries
and clickclickclicking sounds of typewriters
you asked me why I wrote poems
on the soles of my shoes
and I told you
it was because I wanted to
imprint myself on the earth
then I can create beauty
even if I am not
AnonymousI am the girl who hides between moth eaten paper backsAnonymous in Free Verse More Like This
And slips into bookstores and devours leather bound spines
I am chloroform lips bitten down, red and rosy
Ink stained finger tips that fold book pages between my pupils
I'm the girl who drowns herself in coffee and cough drops
While remaining curled between Tennyson and Steinbeck
Wasting days wondering why grass is green
And how it can be greener for others and not I
Then I realized its all artificial food colouring
And polystyrene picket fences
Sticky notes yellowed at the edges reminding myself how to smile
I've pasted them on my skin in makeshift paper Mache armour
But like all mangled words I will be thrown inside a wastebasket
Saved for a rainy day
If you drink enough vodka it tastes like loveHe’d whisper sweet nothings to treesIf you drink enough vodka it tastes like love in Free Verse More Like This
Hoping the roots would remember his name
I watched him drop pieces of himself like bread crumbs
His lantern limbs quivering
I don’t think he ever really knew how lovely he was
And on a sunny day when the pavement was sweating
Out onto the roadside
Everyone else found out too
I don’t think I’ll ever forget him because he was like a dream catcher
So quiet and magical in the way his eyes turned green in the dark
And blue in the winter
Like he stored the world’s secrets behind his cuckoo spit heart
A mermaid stole my bonesI want to deteriorate into the ocean and feel the wavesA mermaid stole my bones in Free Verse More Like This
Break over my spine
Because I’ve learnt through trial and error
That holding my breath only makes my heart beat faster
And plain white pills do nothing to soothe
The anxiety sewn deep within my bones
The bitter aftertaste still lingers in the back of my throat
much like the feeling
of her breath in my lungs
Snow White SyndromeI seem to have forgotten the sound of my own heartbeatSnow White Syndrome in Free Verse More Like This
Splitting apart my limbs I've found the source of my insanity
Coiled around veins and arteries
Star dust and a lazy man’s drug
Has put me to sleep under fictitious pretenses
Of forbidden apples and two faced prince charming’s
The boy who hides in drugstores and late nightsBlindfolded airwaves hide his forest veinsThe boy who hides in drugstores and late nights in Free Verse More Like This
Where not even the moon can touch the lonely heart
Resting on his tightly buttoned sleeve
Insomnia drawn deeply into the creases of his eyes
Galaxies humming in time with his stuttering heartbeats
He hides behind nightlights to burn out his demons
Because the devils in the detail
and he's one hour away from tearing down the sky
Splintered amber bones searching for serendipitous moments
He longed not for the stars but rather
For those moments where the horizon kisses the earth
Bonfire irises with a knack for chasing time
Longing for the sun to seem real again
Carving his name into walls to be remembered
As the boy who went down swinging
Stuck In ReverseWe'd make drunken eye contactStuck In Reverse in Free Verse More Like This
While sat on iron bar motorway bridges
Road kill paved beneath us
And diluted stars that hung above us like spirits
Passing bottles of liquor while discussing Shakespeare
I'd hide behind my sleeves
We were scatter brained and tongue tied
Scorched pupils and leaper fingertips
I don't know how to let go of these Polaroid memories
We need to plan our escape because Alice had the right idea
The smell of stagnant rainwater is making me nauseous
Because sometimes painkillers never seem to work
And carving words into one another is the only way we can exist.
For the girl with the ashen heart and jackdaw grinShe was the girl with the autumn limbsFor the girl with the ashen heart and jackdaw grin in Free Verse More Like This
All wildfire eyes and bonfire lips
Aching to tear the tress into a clamour of sun beams
And crackling breaths split the sky into a smile
She had forests sewn into her veins
All thick grooves of amber and phosphate
Etched into the curves of her spine and empty synapses
Feline limbs and a lone wolf persona
Hangs on the slopes of her mountain range collar bones
She was the girl that you’d search oceans for
Her glowing fingertips and bird wing bones
Fleeting like the winds got hold of her aching soul
She’d paint constellations on her rib cage
To make the star strewn sky look a little less lonely
Sea sonnet for the girl with ocean eyesShe was southern Californian stormsSea sonnet for the girl with ocean eyes in Free Verse More Like This
On a good day
When the skies nursed the shoreline like a wound
And the rain tasted like two scoops of mint chip ice cream
She held the nebula in her palms
And poured it out onto the sidewalk
So that the gutters would have something
To talk about at night
She swallowed the ocean
And held it in her eyes
Of mountain rock blue straining against the sky
The bluest eyes I’d ever seen
Sparrow girl with the breathless wings
Embellished in vinyl’s and cassette tapes
Gramophone gilded lashes and half-moon wrists made up
Paper tapestries taped together with Shakespeare and Green
Sunday morning tea always tastes sweeter when
Her limbs hang off the curb knees scuffed
Watching faces pass and giving them names
Whispering secrets to the wind
She always fell for boys who needed saving.She always fell for boys who needed saving.She always fell for boys who needed saving. in Free Verse More Like This
Giving them kisses in the dark
to numb their headache from
drinking too much and yet
not enough to kill lust.
She was always adored by boys, who,
if given the chance, would rebuild
the world for her.
But she wanted to be the heroine
and refused to see
she needed saving, too.
I play with Words like you play with Hearts .you are a brittle little thing butI play with Words like you play with Hearts . in Free Verse More Like This
your bite makes me restl-ess--
ays could be written about your
eyes, shimmering in the star-light--
headed is what you make me--
ddling into my heartst[r]ings until I am
in need of med-icine--
ss melting away at your heated t-ouch!
and yes, I want you inside me
and all around me
and never leaving my si[ght]de--
votion and affection surging th--
rough our beings playing, moving as
you're a slippery ro-ad--
diction hard to sha--
ke-en-edged and dange-rous--
ing my heart to bea-ting--
ling in my skin--
ned knees when f
ice queenShe takes you by the hipsice queen in Free Verse More Like This
because she's too hungry
to appreciate the warmth
of your hands.
She transforms you with her fingers,
bending every edge till you're just her
ball, made of glass,
that she shakes once in a while.
She always preferred ice over sunshine.
And I can't stand the sight of her,
she chills me to the bone.
Because she has my whole world
in the palm of her hand
and I fear she might break it.
A letter to past loves.Dear Boy number 1,A letter to past loves. in Free Verse More Like This
you turned my world upside down,
changed green into red and smiles to tears.
Who would've thought that
your teasing and your games would
plant a fear into my bones, so strong that
I still cannot shake it?
Dear Boy number 2,
I don't think about you anymore
but I don't think about you any less, either.
Your love consumed me and
pushed me to the edge of insanity.
We were fire one second, ice the next,
battle wounds were inflicted just to get a taste of blood.
We were right in all the wrong ways, but to you,
holding another was second nature.
Dear Boy number 3,
you only ever touched me
in the dark alleys of town,
out of sight, but you were never
out of my mind.
Your kisses were new and sloppy,
and your hands left bruises
on my chilled skin.
My friends said you were bad for me, but
I fell in love with your eyes of coal.
Dear Boy number 4,
you are just great. And that's the thing.
You are everything I could wish for, but
I want someone to
Between You and Me.I never believed you,Between You and Me. in Free Verse More Like This
I only wanted to.
Lying back to back
I was counting your breaths
to make sure your lack of
didn't leave you
Like a ghost
the fading memories of your touch
what I was trying to forget.
Oh, why did I give it up to you?
I know it's my fault.
My expectations were greater than
what you were willing to offer,
and I got scared.
I tried shutting you out,
to gather myself together
behind a shield of apathy,
but only ended up in
Your kiss never tasted as
as the last time
I made love to you...
This is not about you .These words are not about you.This is not about you . in Emotional More Like This
The curves of these letters are here to imitate the shape of your spine when I have you pressed against the wall. They mock the shape of my breasts against your burning palms, the sharp prickle of your jaw resting at the base of my neck as you moan the name you could have sworn you've forgotten but it always just wiggles its way free from between your teeth.
Don't misunderstand, these words are not about you.
This is purely and solely about me and my battle between giving up and giving in. Either way, the winner turns out to be you.
I was counting crooked stars and telling you that snow feels hot to my touch when I'm high on apathy, when you caught me off-guard and set fire to my fingertips. I trusted you when you promised to leave me completely undesirous, and accidentally misheard that you can only promise to break every promise leaving your lips. For one second I believed that I have learned to keep my heart in a pocket, and then suddenly you stripped
To Live Is To Learn.It's only at the end of the roadTo Live Is To Learn. in Free Verse More Like This
after many wrong turns taken,
that I'll realize
which ones I should've taken instead.
But there is no walking in reverse,
no magic spell to turn the red lights green.
Yet each time life tears me down,
I learn how to get back on my feet.
And I know now, that I am my worst threat,
yet my best friend.
And best friends forgive, understand,
offer a helpful hand.
I have to try, try so much harder,
to help myself to a clearer view.
And one day,
when I become something I can love,
someone else will fall in love with me too.
Bullets .Building these walls won't do you any good you know.Bullets . in Emotional More Like This
I'll scrape my nails against your skin, looking for the smallest hole or crack that I know you missed, cause that's just the way you are. And I'll crawl inside your veins and take over your soul because it hurts me too much to not understand you in these moments of distrust. And my blood will fill your veins and you'll feel the urge to slit your wrists to bleed me out because it'll feel just as if I was spitting deadly poison into your eyes.
You're the force of the universe that kills me for honesty and smothers me with poisonous kisses. You're the lie told one too many times and the stain on my favourite shirt that I threw away last week just because it smelled like you. You're like the greenest grass in winter and I'm like the deepest lake in the middle of the desert in your heart. Oh yeah, I forgot, you refuse to have one.
Urging me to stay, you pull me with you to the edge and then you dispose of me, waiting for me
0.01%commitment is a dirty word0.01% in Free Verse More Like This
that they carved into our minds
to make us feel like we're
not good enough.
here's a bar of soap to make you
clean that dirty, dirty mouth.
better yet, have another
for your brain.
let the bubbles overflow your bloodstream,
give you a certain high so you're detached.
wash his name out of your thoughts,
repeat, repeat, repeat.
Careful now, don't want you spilling blood
for someone who has only ever taught you
that finding happiness in someone else
is the most suicidal thing you could ever do.
[ but they say that no matter how much you clean,
0.01% of bacteria always remain.
you've given me a cold and my nose is so runny
I'm close to blowing my brains out. ]
Kit Kat Make Up Trash.your lungs fill with oxygen as you try to exhaleKit Kat Make Up Trash. in Free Verse More Like This
through clenched teeth and palms pressed over your chapped lips.
you're trying to get a hold on this confusing spasm
that makes you feel sick to the bone and high as the stars
but your wings are drenched in vomit and it seems you
can't have one without the other.
hold on to your bones for dear life and count your ribs every day
just in case one of them decided to slip out of reach.
press your heart through the glass and feel the shards sinking
into the soft flesh as it cracks beneath pressure.
scream at your broken reflection and spit out insecurities
that were inflicted upon your bloodied wrists.
wash your face off the sink, rainbow tears make you look ugly.
don't get caught up in the game of cat and mouse they want you to play.
because you know damn well you're the mouse
and the kitty had its claws sharpened just to turn your heart
into a shredded mess.
Stories of feelings with no names i.Stories of feelings with no names in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The feeling you get the day after sending a letter, and you know there is no possible way that the recipient has received your message, let alone formulated time to write a reply. You still get just a little hopeful when you hear the mailman drive by. You rush out to the postbox a little too quickly and are disappointed by the pile of free coupons, bills, charity flyers, and a late Christmas card from Grandma Moses.
A sudden awareness that occurs during funerals that you are going to die. You are dying right now – your cells are shedding like snakeskin scales and your hair is turning silver and every moment is one less than before. You will never know which moment is the last one because you won’t be around to count the grains in your hourglass– and, somehow, this knowledge both sharpens and dulls the grief of saying goodbye, like a blade that loses all effectiveness once it’s already
One Way TicketI have always known that I will die on a train.One Way Ticket in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I used to wait for Death at the railroad tracks. Some days I would kick off my shoes and balance on the rails. Other days I would lie on the tracks and count the stars. He never came for me, but it's okay I understand.
I saw him once through the window of a passenger train, scythe leaning against the glass. He was reading the newspaper. He glanced up long enough to see me waving and offered a nod in return. I watched him go as long as I could, until the last car was a dot on the sun, and I finally turned away to find summer was now autumn and my shoes were full of dust.
I crunched my toes in the gravel and sat down on the cold railing to wait for his train to return.
Fragments - Nostalgia Edition1. I wrote it a thousand times on my 1940's typewriter, practiced the words mentally a million times, mouthed the sentence into my pillow every night for years but only said it once, aloud, to your casket.Fragments - Nostalgia Edition in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
2. Every tea party with my eight year old little sister was a very civil war. I wore my sunhats like helmets and my lace gloves like gauntlets, my tablecloth was my battle flag, and the first (and last) battle began with the final cookie and ended with time out on opposite sides of the house.
3. He used to build birdhouses and hand-size coffins in woodshop class. Never clocks or derby cars, nor trinket boxes or small bookshelves. Only birdhouses. Only tiny caskets that could fit in your palm.
I never asked but I never had to after I saw him bury a blue jay shot by his little brother with the very first thing he ever made in woodshop class a slingshot.
4. My grandmother had a never-ending spool of yarn in her knitting basket. I know because I never once saw her buy anoth
SuperimposeHe doesn't look like a gymnast. He's all button down shirts and frazzled grey hair framing wire spectacles, a picture perfect professorial archetype down to the very tips of his frayed shoelaces. But he was a gymnast once, or so he tells us, and I believe him because he smiles like he knows something while he's chatting before class.Superimpose in Sketches More Like This
It's strange to see that image superimposed over the current one the distinguished professor in pressed khaki slacks and a jacket, worn brown loafers exuding a faintly courteous manner (you can always tell them by their shoes), and a ring on the fourth finger of his left hand versus the athletic kid who went to college for a semester and grew nine inches too tall to keep doing what he loved so he took up a tennis racquet instead. Gymnasts don't wear suit jackets; no steel mill worker has such manicured nails. But the images are all there, flickering just under the surface and bubbling up again when he's recounting stories about his days in Pi
Recipe for Disaster196 NationsRecipe for Disaster in Free Verse More Like This
1 Nuclear Strike
1 Retaliation Maneuver
6 Billion Dead
Don't bother baking -
the radiation will take care of it.
Feelings with no namesi.Feelings with no names in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The feeling you get the day after sending a letter, and you know there is no possible way that the recipient has received your message yet, let alone formulated time to write a reply, but you still get just a little hopeful when you hear the mailman drive by and rush out to the postbox a little too quickly and are disappointed by the pile of free coupons, bills, charity flyers, and a late Christmas card from Grandma Moses.
The noise of a faraway car driving late at night, or perhaps early in the morning, in that sleepy place somewhere between consciousness and dreaming where everything is warm and vaguely fuzzy. The remote sound of tires on asphalt speaks to a sense of curiosity – where are they going? Why so early? – but the blankets are so heavy, your eyes are so heavy, and before you can wonder anymore, the car is long gone and you are long gone, carving out a hollow place to rest in just a few hours more.
A sudden awareness that occurs during funerals that y
PalmistryI always look at my hands too closely, tracing the creases as though they really could tell me the future.Palmistry in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
They say that the future is in our hands, but my hands are full of asymptotes, potential paths that never quite cross and taper off into infinitely smaller lines that go somewhere I can't follow.
JulyThe magnolia tree is the last shade for milesJuly in Free Verse More Like This
unless you want to hide in the cornfields,
or spend quality time with the chickens pecking at your bare toes.
Only the mockingbirds truly enjoy the summer haze,
filching birdseed and blackberries
with all the speed their hollow skeletons will grant them,
while anything with feet on the ground simmers like biscuits in the oven.
The mailboxes at the end of mile-long driveways are stuffed to capacity,
because it's too hot to make the trek from the porch swing
and the lemonade will be lukewarm by then.
Even the old barn,
paint stripped by the elements exposing the grayed wood,
is too tired to continue rotting, rusting,
standing only because old habits die hard,
and the owls need a place to live.
Some Lovers III died on a coldSome Lovers II in Free Verse More Like This
day, numbed fingers flexing,
grasping at the last traces of embers
withering in the grate.
I died holding your hand,
the hand I accidentally fractured
when I pushed you too
harshly near an edge
and you flailed to find
a more elegant way
to fall and then
I heard the scaphoid crack
but I didn't. I heard the cry
first and the pain came later
but you held my
I died with my arms
held over my head,
pinned down to the sheets by your solid
mass, fingers entwined
with yours until I
could no longer tell which bones
were my own. I baked
in the aftermath of the dying
heat and felt the blood
back into my fingers
before forgetting again
as you sighed into my neck.
I died on a cold
day, but I never felt
Seafoam and AshA girl once told me she was conceived by the ocean. "By" not "beside" her skin was the color of new seafoam and you could follow her green eyes into the deeps and drown there. She had a soft, papery voice that sighed in and out and dark hair that cascaded past her shoulders like dried seaweed.Seafoam and Ash in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
She was born along the sea strand, where the ocean met solidity and pounded it into tiny grains. Perhaps she was delivered in a clump of seaweed or crawled her way out of a pink conch shell and learned to swim before learning to walk. She carried an air of calm serenity that rippled around her like an aura wherever she went, content to flow instead of fight.
I met a boy born from the fire tailing comets rushing through the atmosphere. His hair was a shock of red swinging upward and he lit up entire rooms with his presence. He always spoke a little too fast, the words rushing from his mouth like sparks off a firecracker, flickering and dancing. His golden eyes flashed