You Left Me StrongerYou Left Me Stronger:
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
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
Practice Poem - Poor Little TimmyPractice Poem - Poor Little Timmy:Practice Poem - Poor Little Timmy in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Down into well, poor Timmy fell,
Down he fell into the pits of hell.
Brought into hell by an eldritch spell,
Poor little Timmy who fell down the well.
Alone he cowered and shivered and shook,
He shook for hours, so long it took,
So long it took for him to feel well,
Well enough to explore this hell...
Through pathways littered with scenes most gory;
Most gory indeed was little Timmy's story,
A story of fear and suffering defined,
Poor little Timmy, he ran out of time...
Now then, I think I'll go welcome my little guest...
-Chen Yuan Wen, 14th December 2012
They Watch UsThey Watch Us:They Watch Us in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Perched high upon the mountains;
With wings as black as night.
They watch us in the hour,
Before darkness turns to light.
I've seen them in my visions;
In dreams they come and go,
But the things they seem to tell me
I guess nobody should know...
I've seen children that are buried,
Beneath a frozen lake.
A maiden sits there weeping;
Her heart is soon to break.
The crows flutter downward,
A noose amongst their hands.
They take the maiden away,
To a dark and distant land.
And even if I follow -
Even if I try...
I'll simply end up buried,
Where the frozen children lie.
-Chen Yuan Wen, 10th November 2012
The Way We LiveThe Way We Live:The Way We Live in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
We all have our own little struggles;
Pushing on forward as the tragedies double.
A life led with pain and exhaustion too immense,
I'm pushing down walls as my muscles go tense.
But these are the words that you'll never hear me spit.
I'd never say I'm 'giving up' or if I should 'quit'.
I'm really freaking stupid so just tell it to my face,
And even then I'd never give up the right to race.
I'm like a lone arrow drawn and shot from a bow,
Blustered by the winds of all the things I don't know.
I'd never figure out if I'd reach the final mark,
But I know that I'd never lose my glowing inner spark.
And that's all it takes just to keep this body going.
With calloused hands in this ocean I'm still rowing
Searching for some land out amidst a sea of black;
A wandering gypsy bearing burdens on his back.
- Chen Yuan Wen, 14th January 2013
DishonouredDishonoured:Dishonoured in Free Verse More Like This
He stands before the adoring crowd,
Basking in their cheers and standing ovation.
But he has already been dishonoured -
By means of his perverse innovation.
For none could know of the dark secret;
About the art that he claims to be his own.
It is naught but an illusion, smoke and mirrors -
A theft for which he must atone...
But this disgusting creature, this worthless abhuman;
So desperate for the glory which he sees upon the stage!
Will quietly don the skin of another;
An urge he must assuage...
Biting his nails, a cracked smile upon his lips, he whispers:
"No one will know, no one will find it and I am great..."
-Chen Yuan Wen, 24th October 2012
BelovedBeloved:Beloved in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
With a bright radiant smile
If only for me...
-Chen Yuan Wen, 4th January 2013
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
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
FEARFEAR:FEAR in Free Verse More Like This
Frantically he scrambles away from the dark
Eager to be free of his waking nightmare
Acting only upon the instinct within him;
Reminded constantly that he is prey
For some time he hides in the pervasive shadows
Earnestly praying that he will not be discovered
A single sound is all it takes to jar him;
Running from a creature that he can barely see
From head to toe it is certainly monstrous
Enshrouded in an aura of absolute repugnance
As the acid drips from its cruel jaws,
Rapidly dissolving the ground below
Fearful, he cowers, beneath boxes and cardboard,
Escaping away into a tiny corner of his mind
Alone with only his anxiety for company
Resting for what might be his very last
From birth, Ever-present, Always Remembered
such is the nature of FEAR
Writing poetry again Doctor Cecil? That's good!
You'll need a hobby to be working in an environment like this
-Chen Yuan Wen, 9th October 2012
I Know You Hate Me Now But...I Know You Hate Me Now But...:I Know You Hate Me Now But... in Free Verse More Like This
Just give me a chance alright, I'll explain
To me, you're the girl that I notice everything about.
The way you laugh, the way you smile;
We got along great back then, even if we don't now.
And to be honest, I miss that...
You had the most lovely silky smooth hair
You'd give me the cutest anime girl smile
I wish I'd talked to you more about Manga,
Hell you got me started on the whole thing.
You were fantastic at drawing too
Man I was always jealous of that talent,
And I loved your drawings, like I once loved you.
I wish that you could have been a professional.
I would have bought your book every month y'know...
You encouraged me to write.
Back when my stories were shit,
Back when my poems were still baby's rhymes.
You taught me not to give in and I was grateful.
Now just let me finish alright?
I know that you won't speak to me.
That's okay, I admit to being an ass,
But the reason that I'm writing this poem to nobod
Can We Both Be Ugly?She's a diamond, while I am coal.Can We Both Be Ugly? in Free Verse More Like This
I am the coal, black and boring.
Set me on fire while I am alive.
Watch me burn,
Watch me die.
She is the diamond, shiny and attention-grabbing.
Lay your greedy hands on the whore.
She's there for the looks and money,
No real work,
She receives the perks.
We both wanted him,
But I bit my tongue.
What a fool I would be to ask for his heart.
He sees me as a footrest,
Only here for support and only when he needs it,
The demand for me is limited.
He lusts for her seductive nature,
Her glare blinding his eyes,
She's tearing him apart with her sharp edges,
It kills me to witness.
"I can't hurt you.
"But she is my support,
"She is but a coal,
weak and pitiful.
You want that?
The spineless coward?
She's thirsty for your heartbreak,
but my fingers are gentle,
let me hold you."
His situation is himself.
I love him more than I could scream,
But I maintain my silence,
I suffer in the dark.
I see his sorrow and
Bully"Stupid," "Ugly," "Useless," "Sad."Bully in Free Verse More Like This
"Emo," "Silent," "Paranoid," "Mad."
"Ashamed," "Afraid," "Crazy," "Stuck."
"Disgusting," "Alone," "Pathetic," "Out of Luck."
The words never spoken,
Yet always heard.
Not from people around me,
No, that's absurd.
I've heard these words,
Time after time,
They always pierce my heart,
They continuously cross my mind.
But these words were never said.
Never once directed at me.
Maybe they never became reality,
But I saw them spoken in my mentality.
These are the words of a bully.
The words that can tear me apart.
The words that can no longer be erased,
Because they have entered my heart.
This person who speaks them,
I know them quite well.
They have countless words in their head,
They have many stories to tell.
I don't know why they want me
To take all of the blame.
It might be for vengeance,
It might be from their own shame.
But the owner of these words,
The words that repeat,
Have caused me great fear,
Have led to my defeat.
This person I know,
Whom I d
roses and brier“I’ve never planted roots-“roses and brier in Free Verse More Like This
believing her body to be
on a road trip
“Well—“ I smiled,
“let’s be like roses & brier.
We will go nowhere, together.”
You should never attack a poet,we are the best at exploiting weakness.You should never attack a poet, in Free Verse More Like This
the night you took a scalpel to my chest
& fed my heart to the stars,
you told me i could hate you
if i needed to.
with an exorcism
i tried to cast you out
of my body.
i was contorted limbs:
the language of tongues
trying to find myself
in the cosmos
of lit kerosene fingertips,
& the kinds of habits
that only choke me at 3am -
when my eyes aren’t yet heavy
enough for sleep;
my mind tells me to do awful things.
between fucking &
you are the calories
in the mathematical equation
i think of shy moons
and i don’t eat for three days.
you only liked me
when this poetic tongue
space shrapnel aside-
you’re too far down now
for even the stars
to graph you into their maps.
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.
-this windowpane loneliness- in Free Verse More Like This
has devoured too many stars
making love to ocean beds.
Ways to conquer heartbreakDance with fistfuls of roses, shred their petals one by one and wear their thorns like armor.Ways to conquer heartbreak in Free Verse More Like This
Write your secrets between the folds of paper cranes and tuck them safely between the empty spaces of your castle ribs.
Open your broken heart to hummingbirds, allow them the warmth and shelter of your arms.
Rebel. Tape poetry to your limbs, Cummings and Sandburg and Sexton.
Take a walk outside of your skin for a while, run with wolves.
Extinguish that forest fire that’s been curling too long in your lungs.
Be that lionhearted girl those snobby poets always write about.
Allow that cavern of stars in your throat to speak your truths in uppercase letters, in free verse yet to be proofread.
Write about wars and victory.
Be the hero.
Scorpiussometimes,Scorpius in Free Verse More Like This
i wake up with bits of Orion
still stuck between my teeth.
& i grin, remembering
the face of every lover
i’ve managed unscathed,
to crawl out from underneath.
‘ad astra’ inked into ankle bones
like little wings, Pluto’s underworld
ripe, coursing through my veins:
i stake claim to clavicles.
between the constellations
of tongues & weak limbs,
i get off
on all the ways mere mortals
beg me to sacrifice them
to the heavens.
I loved a girl.i loved a girl.I loved a girl. in Free Verse More Like This
i loved a girl with a love
for cummings & sandburg
i loved an unflinching
poet of a girl.
& with no better diction:
they called the shaking fists
at her sides, her silent act
of pacifism, cowardice.
i’m the coward;
she bled for the both of us.
Depression like lipstick stainsOn some days,Depression like lipstick stains in Free Verse More Like This
you are the angel dust
settled in my bones
keeping these December limbs
& Sunday-morning-coffee eyes
But, other days-
other days, I don't know
what to do
with your tornado kisses,
rage teeth that bite
& tear at my poetic insanity.
With these miles and miles
of bodies & hollow space
between our magnetic hearts-
How is it that these light-year pulses
still beat in sync?
For I'm a graveyard lurker.my veins are blueFor I'm a graveyard lurker. in Free Verse More Like This
with restless wanting;
your ghost fingers
at this untamed
stop loving me
like that, darling,
kissing the stars
from my throat.
if i can’t have the sky,
i will howl my laughter
to the earth,
planting a home
in the dirt
beneath my claws.
I am girl.Other boys tell meI am girl. in Free Verse More Like This
I’d look best
& they know
I am girl-
from the curve of my hips,
to this jutting collarbone,
lonely of love bites
But, your hands shape
falsities out of my limbs
with a tongue speaking of me
Why do I allow your body
to find rest against these bones
when you don’t even recognize
the taste of my moon skin
between your teeth?
Dear YouDear YouDear You in Free Verse More Like This
You are a hurricane.
You are a volcano.
You are a flurry of beautiful violence;
A plume of volcanic ash cast into the sky.
You are all the voices of the world;
A scream and a whisper and a sigh.
You are the beauty of the earth;
An exquisite wildfire, divine in its destruction.
And you are so strong.
You are stronger than this weight on your shoulders,
You are stronger than this emptiness in your chest,
You are stronger than all these things that dare get in your way.
You will charge past these things;
These regrets, these desires, these insecurities.
You will get through every pitfall and mistake and slipup,
And you’ll be made better for it.
You are unbeatable, unconquerable and unstoppable.
Every obstacle, an opportunity,
Every failure, a lesson.
You will beat this because you are better than this.
You will beat this because you are you.
And that is a powerful thing.
PersolusI’ve been alone for a very long time. I’m not quite sure who I am – identity is such a fickle thing, especially when you have no one to prove it to. Sometimes I remember things from before the fall. I remember what I’m called – Persolus with a “p” – but I don’t recall ever hearing it spoken. I can remember hands but not faces and lips but not words. All the people disappeared a long time ago.Persolus in Drama More Like This
I don’t think it’s a bad thing by any means; the suffocating warmth of other people was replaced with the crisp chill of time spent alone - and that’s how I’ve always preferred it. In my Spartan solitude I’m neither happy nor sad – I simply am. It’s uncomplicated and it’s easy – maybe that’s why I’m so comfortable this way.
I do admit however, that there are days when I’ll look into the sky and wonder if I’m missing something
Memoirs of a Blue DinosaurMemoirs of a Blue DinosaurMemoirs of a Blue Dinosaur in Free Verse More Like This
Stashed in away in a basement somewhere,
In some long forgotten box of old toys,
Buried under a great many other plastic creatures,
There is a little blue dinosaur.
He has a lengthy neck, and a long skinny tail.
His skin is textured plastic and blue as can be,
The paint on his eyes and the tip of his nose has chipped off,
And his bottom jaw is missing.
In the dark he remembers,
Sticky fingers holding him for days on end.
Little hands moving him through tall grass,
Making fake roaring sounds and crashing into other toys.
He remembers being cuddled at night,
(Though he was the farthest thing from soft).
He remembers tears crawling over his scales,
And hiding under blankets from fighting grown-ups.
He remembers flying over an ocean,
And coming to a new home with just one grown-up.
He remembers being put into a box,
“Just for a little while sweetie, until we settle in.”
And then he remembers the dark.
Mommy and DaddyMommy, Daddy, are you okay?Mommy and Daddy in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
You haven't talked at all today.
Mommy, Daddy, can't you see?
You're really starting to hurt me.
All you do is scream and fight,
and I hear it all throughout the night.
Sometimes I think my eyes will run dry,
yet whenever I do, I just continue to cry.
"She doesn't care about any of this, she'll be fine by tomorrow!"
Daddy, you don't know how much your words fill me with sorrow.
"Can't you just be civilized?! Stop acting like a child, and apologize right now!"
Mommy, please don't make this worse, or I'll run outside and hide in the snow.
Mommy, Daddy, I wish you would just stop everything and be happy again.
I'm hiding under the blankets, writing these words down with a pen.
Mommy, Daddy, can't you see?
You're tearing my heart into one, two, three.
A piece for each of us, a piece of my heart,
the beating has stopped before it could start.
Two sections I wish I could install into both of you,
yet I'm afraid I have not yet found the proper glue.
"It isn't your
ashes to ashesi am the girl withashes to ashes in Free Verse More Like This
more faith in myths than in
there are more dead bodies in this world than the living.
and if that doesn't frighten you, then i
don't know what would. i guess you could
say that graves are just the closets in which
we hide our skeletons in.
there are ghosts all around us.
and i think that maybe,
i'd rather take my chances down in
the underworld with them than up
here where the earth is slowly
all because of the living.
handle with carethere are 206 bones in thehandle with care in Free Verse More Like This
human body. it only takes one good
squeeze and your neck can snap as
easily as a twig.
once, when i was at the grocery
store, i came across a crate of
peaches. they were on sale because
every single one was bruised and it
made me think, "we're all just pieces of fruit
left to rot. as soon as we've been dropped on the
floor, no one wants to help us back up."
i've forgotten how to think in poetics.
three months ago i would have
compared people to roses. pretty little petals
that can be crushed with just
one little pinch and thorny stems that
whisper "don't touch me."
i think we're more like
together like suffocating sardines in tiny
wooden boxes decorated with red
paint announcing across the sides
"danger: this side up."
or maybe it actually is.thisor maybe it actually is. in Free Verse More Like This
a love poem:
this is not about
me and how i hate
the way realism tastes.
this is about you.
this is about how you
are one too many shades arrogant,
how nearly every night you
try to forget that time has
left you behind. this is
about your laugh and the way it
whispers "i can't remember
what i was like before i
became this." and,
if i'm being honest, this is about
how i will never see your too
cocky for your own damn good grin that
makes me go weak in the knees.
this is about you
and how you're not real and how i wish
to god that i wasn't either.
WhisperI want to create an aromatic sea of jasminesWhisper in Free Verse More Like This
and stardust mountains of silver and —
Inkblot skeletons with paper mache
hearts, whose bones shall burn with one glance at the
sun; gravestones of blood diamonds and tears of thistles...
Harp strings ringing in grotesque harmony, screaming
for slender fingers to pluck and caress with devotion.
I want to write
How to pretend that you are a writer.Act like you're notHow to pretend that you are a writer. in Free Verse More Like This
okay when you are and
that you are when you're
not. Run barefoot in
the snow. Stand out
in the rain for an hour
and think about anything
and everything you can.
Fall in love with
riddles and things that
aren't real and the
way some stars
shine. Cry when
you realize that life is
just one big sham and write
one hundred cliché poems
about it, and then write one
that you actually mean.
Use profanity. Be the
one fucking introvert
in a room full of
extroverts and scream
shit just for the fun of
it. Swallow every goddamn
metaphor you ever dreamed
of and write them down
with your own blood.
Eulogize your own
misery. Put a crown on
it and let it rule your
heart for six years before
you throw a coup d'etat
but just end up with
your head in a basket.
Ask yourself why
you feel so
empty and when
you forgot how to
laugh and where you
last left your smile and
who you even really are
anymore. Mean every word.
Don't cry at funerals. Cry
yourself to sleep every
other night for
intricately ordinaryI am the wayward child,intricately ordinary in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
subliminal and defeathered—
What's that in your heart?
Myths and the things that really matter
like wallflower clippings,
unfiltered and restless.
Don't forget to let me go;
the keepers of my heart
sleeping behind the wheel.
pretty little poet fingersfabricated gods rest between thepretty little poet fingers in Free Verse More Like This
languid crevices of
her fingertips, scribbling profanities
all over her skin.
she's just mismatched bones
& blue bruises, telling of forbidden
love through archaic letters.
a tongue made for
wanderlust, & eyes made
for the stars,
even the devil fears her.
lion boyi knew a boy withlion boy in Free Verse More Like This
eyes of gold & fire
in his footsteps.
he would roar to the
stars, declaring himself
as fearless as a king
& as regal as a lion.
he would announce
every night when leo
would coax the virgin
from her radiant
five times around the
sun & loyal fangs bared
to shield his kingdom,
my lion boy
dances with flames.
All EndsIf you cut you'll bleedAll Ends in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
If you bleed you'll die
If you're sad you'll smile
And if you smile it's a lie
If you lie you'll live
If you live you'll die
If you cheat you'll win
And if you win you'll cry
If you cry you'll lose
If you lose you'll die
If you run you'll stay
And if you stay you'll fly
If you fly you'll fall
If you fall you'll die
'Cause no-one will catch you
If your life is a lie.
How to Make it HurtOh dear, Daddy, look what I did!How to Make it Hurt in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Sorry, I forgot you don’t care
And that I’m just your bastard kid.
Oh no, Mummy, I miss you too much!
I ache for what I cannot have;
Your soft, gentle, loving touch.
Hey, God, I’m going to hell!
‘Cause I hurt myself
And others as well.
Sorry, Friend, for all I’ve done!
I never ever listened
And now two will be one.
Goodbye, Bitch, I hate you!
I hope you’ll cry,
You’ve made me cry too.
Hello, Dark Thoughts, I’ll let you in!
Help this hurt less,
Help me let them all win.
I'd Be Pretty If I'd Just...I'd be pretty if I'd just smileI'd Be Pretty If I'd Just... in Free Verse More Like This
If I'd cut my hair a certain way
And cover myself up in that chemical crap you call make-up
But did you ever think that just maybe...
I don't wanna be pretty
That I just wanna be me
Who cares if no one ever calls me beautiful
Who cares if I'm never asked to dance
Hell I don't even know how to dance anyway
I don't care how the world sees me
I only care how I see me
And I think there's nothing wrong with the girl in the mirror
Sure she doesn't smile much but that's cause she's going through hell
Her face may look plain without any make-up
But that's just the way I like it
An old pair of jeans
The first t-shirt could find
My hair in a braid
I'm ready to go
To where no one cares just what I look like
Least of all me
It's a barn full of horses
That's where I choose to spend my days
Where no one cares about what I wear
Where I never have to hear "I'd be pretty if I'd just..."
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?"
FragmentsI call them fragments, the parts of me that were too exhausted to stay. He calls them flecks because I am a flake. I wish I was a flake. It sounds prettier than being a fragment. Flakes are like snow. Soothing, falling from the sky on the tip of his tongue that melt and disappear. Fragments are archeological findings of a scarred past we really should not remember.Fragments in Free Verse More Like This
I want to remember my scars. So I am a fragment.
I draw on my legs. When my skin dries out, I use my index finger as a pencil and draw what the clouds are trying to tell me. Sometimes it’s a dog, and sometimes it’s a bear and sometimes it is his face looking at me disapprovingly.
That is when I stop drawing.
At night, when the rain falls, I sit at the bay window and pretend to write stories whilst he pretends to sleep. “What are you writing?” he will ask in his asleep voice. “A funny story.” It is not. It is a pale, scary story, and it looks like my skin. “Were you dreamin
Austenesque Therapy“Hello.”Austenesque Therapy in Free Verse More Like This
“Good afternoon. Why have you come to see me today?”
“Because I had to.”
“I see. So tell me... what’s bothering you.”
“I lose my breath because I can’t believe that this is all I am going to be.”
“What is wrong with what you are?”
“I’m not loved.”
“You have your friends, your family-”
“Come on, you know what I mean. The devil-may-care-what-the-world-thinks, passionate, can’t-breathe-without-each-other, catch-you-when-you-fall-kind-of-love.”
“I don’t even know how to begin to find it in this world.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I prefer living in my books. I like how that makes me feel. And then I’m just disappointed.”
“And how does that make you feel?”
“It makes me feel sometimes, like I am completely unreasonable to say, that in a time of smart phones
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.
SpinelessMy mother always told me I was born with four spines. They stay there, side by side, in my ramrod straight back, the reason for my very correct posture. So when my back began to arch, people noticed.Spineless in Free Verse More Like This
My parents were first. You look different, they would suppose as I would approach every morning for breakfast. Is something wrong? My mother would question. Are you ill? My father would ask.
I had a gift with the vague and I used it to my only advantage in this scenario. Because telling them the truth would be a lot more devastating. How would I tell them about the fact that my bones, my spine, the very part of me they admired most, was depreciating?
I suppose the trouble with most relationships is to trust someone, knowing that you would willingly lie to them, just to protect them from getting hurt. We all do it, and those of us who claim we don’t, only lie because their lies are smaller. I lied to protect them from what had happened to my bones. Not just my spi
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
Why I Hate Romantic Comedies1.Why I Hate Romantic Comedies in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Because they say that for every single boy who counts the stars, there is a little girl who is wishing upon one. (And they never mention what happens after the stars fade into morning and the other falls into oblivion)
Because they say that people fall in love when the time is right, they are true to each other and are ready to be together. (But no one ever mentions how she is so damaged she can barely think, and he is so cynical that he may never be ready.)
Because they insist that your soulmate is going to be a good, kind, caring human being who will love you from the bottom of their hearts. (This is due to the fact that even if there is someone for everyone, bad people are immune to the soulmate theory.)
Because they always have a happy ending (And real life begins after the sun has set and she has realized that he may not be everything she hoped for and he begins to have second thoughts about commitment.)
Because everything is assured in i
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
Skinny Wordslook:Skinny Words in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
he was winterish blue eyes and an autumn scarf dressed in an stupid pink summer sweater that made no sense on a spring day. His shoes were converse, the kind of the skinny intellectual who had just enough money to buy one pair of decent shoes. she never really liked skinny intellectuals, yet did find herself considering them sometimes, in the way she considered coffee that was tongue scalding (horribly and without excuse).
it is odd then, that she still doesn't regret his monsoon flavoured kiss, the kind that made your tongue bleed with its passion, its heat.
he drew in uneasy catches of breath as he snored in the heat of the summer night, nights when she would stay up and listen to cars that passed by, pretending they were a waterfall instead of the cold harsh truth of metal against concrete, just so she could sleep as soundly as him.
she took his breathing for granted.
he spent hours lost in the dry unending silence of his typewriter, of h
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