Please, forgive me.Like lies, you said
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.
ConstellationShe is dream dust,Constellation in Free Verse More Like This
too bitter or wise
for her own good.
A timeless dragon's soul
somewhere inside a
scaled shell, burning
the silence in her bones
alive, honeysuckle sweet.
She collects fireflies only to
set them free at 3am,
crying to an uncaring moon.
& she's begging for the stars
to take her away,
make this house a home
rigged in the sky.
She is already naked fever
swimming through the cosmos
& I orbit her.
Collection of poetic nothings.We were opal Tuesdays,Collection of poetic nothings. in Free Verse More Like This
tattooed into the
rose garden curve
of my vertebrae,
gliding me through this wild youth.
But, like Icarus—
I was a sky conqueror
& these silk wings
touched the sun.
My inhalations are heavy,
like the earth he bruises
beneath his fingertips
as I chase silence.
"You've got a tongue
made for words." He says
against the arrogant thorns
of my briar spine.
"Learn to love yourself."
How do I say I love you
without saying I love you?
"I want to replace my heart with you."
You are spider silk woven
into my harvest moon
limbs traveling this road map
of songbird sin.
You are not just in my head now,
you are dancing in the lingering stars
of my night-witch frame
& setting me on fire.
You're not bruised enough
to write poetry.
Allow these bones to tell your story, Love.
astrological.i. On some nights,astrological. in Free Verse More Like This
street lights guide
this lonely heart
to her lonely bed.
ii. In this universe of twilight skin
& mismatched bones,
I wonder just how many poems sleep
beneath the inkwell of her eyes.
iii. My body is a house of stars,
and her palms are black holes
sucking ( me ) into their vortex of
iv. She says, "Please—my moon,
please—give these bones a reason
& I am whispering lovelies
into the sanctuary of her heartbeats.
v. "Goddess temple,
sunset eyes, &
my windowpane love-
Let us eat the stars
fly.this is hard for the world around us to grasp:fly. in Free Verse More Like This
these wildfires raging in our retinas
& the sins we wear like demonic similes
on our tongues- they are not enough.
& i am so fucking sorry of saying i'm sorry.
but, tell me,
what is a young poet(ess) to do
with veins made of kite strings?
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,
A Gods DebtSutured together by artists,A Gods Debt in Free Verse More Like This
hallowed out, & spit back up,
( you are afraid. )
Hooks longing for her ribcage embrace;
god-hands that can't seem to keep to themselves
grapple the gargoyle exterior of her deflowered frame.
( spread your legs. )
Red-inked and trembling,
prosetry masked as screams
knots into her anatomy.
William,If I am nothing but an actorWilliam, in Free Verse More Like This
on a stage in this dust town
of rose torn bones and washed up
stars, why is it that the galaxy sculpted
crescent moons in my palms
RepossessionYour words tore into my abdomen like vultures feeding onRepossession in Free Verse More Like This
the raw emotion their filthy wings stirred up from the dust.
My ribs cracked from the blow.
But, I think sometimes
of how these were the ribs
that should have chased you away from me,
quietly wondering how you managed to
slither past this cage of bone and flesh
to engrave your fingerprints into my marrow.
You were sweat & spice & scars-
a thunderstorm of black and blue sex
jarring and devouring my insides,
shaped a faithless religion
through the cracks & broken shards
of my hollowed out womb.
(I want my insides back.)
FrostI am devouring chaos,Frost in Free Verse More Like This
chasing it down with winter's chill.
Spare me your fingerprints,
summer's lovechild. Those knowing owl eyes
have me second guessing the wild churning
in my bones. You are the sleep that sweeps
my eyelashes, drowning me in my own daydreams.
When was it...
that you plastered yourself to my ribcage?
dust.I'm chokingdust. in Free Verse More Like This
on the ink-dipped fingers
of verbs & metaphors
still lodged in this bruised,
paper crane throat;
of your words,
still kissing my ribs.
How can you judge me-
when you don't bother
to read the naked poetry
beneath the temple of my flesh?
How long can butterfly
ankles hold up a
Don't bother whispering
your secrets to nebulae,
not even the dust in my veins
will listen anymore.
why we pity angelsto him;why we pity angels in Free Verse More Like This
you are afraid of phonecalls. you
are afraid of your own voice, and
opening your ribcage to let
your heart come live on your sleeve.
you are afraid of living without caffeine
or alcohol, whatever the day calls for;
you are afraid of being real
without laughing afterwards, becoming
everything you worked so hard to get
away from, acknowledging all
that you still are. know this:
I am afraid of loud noises.
I am afraid of honesty and drowning,
people I don’t know and words
I won’t say. I am afraid
of growing old and living alone and
you not accepting me. I am afraid
of myself. In that, we are the same.
I have the compulsion to grab you
and cup you to me like you are some
half-alive bird, like that sound
as the lazy sun paints you a portrait is
your hummingbird heart and not my own
shallow breaths. in the beginning,
you were my peace of mind. you traced
the contours of my being with a scalpel
and held me up, a shadow puppet,
as the darkest, blackest figures I gav
wallflower clippingsthere's scar tissue in her throat,wallflower clippings in Free Verse More Like This
swollen around the words she never said;
dark rings around her eyes
like planets unremembered, and
a staleness to her touch,
the crystalline Dead Sea.
she's living like a story
that's already been told
"if no one loved you
would you mean anything at all?"
in that moment,
we forget to exist.
unfilterediunfiltered in Free Verse More Like This
i’d tell you I hated you
if you had a voice or a face,
or any sense of tangibility aside
from the spider fingers you use
to crawl through my brain
you are not beautiful, like
all the other poets protest. you
are the red in my eye, like
a pen bled; the ragged to
my fingernails, the hitch of my breath
when it catches in my throat.
before i go, i’ll write a million letters (a million
pennies for my thoughts, bitter, embedded
under my tongue) and send them to people
i’ve never met, telling them how my eyes were blue
when i was little but now are the same gray
i’m choking on, how i am maddie and how that’s short
for a name i was never graceful enough for, how
i tell myself stories of lives i’ll never live so i
can go to sleep
because when i’m really gone, that’s all that’ll be left
(it’s funny what people
try to justify with words)
you never loved me,
you selfish thing, i wonder why
i wasted so many nights relivin
In Piecesrum-lust lips make gentle friends,In Pieces in Free Verse More Like This
words slurred in hands blurred,
burning in between the lines to find
drunken concoction of wilted laughs
and heavy sighs, scented sultry
you are that
rasping in my throat when my voice
deteriorates and I am left breathless
and hopeless and raw, my
muscles ache in memory of the
motions to forget-
we do not let go.
and cold beds call, stability,
metal frames and sunken heads –
rest now, rest with
a prayer on your lips you don't
care to share, a dream in
your mind you'll never get back;
rest and the earth will lend you peace
you will stop. the rivers will clean
your bones; the sand will smooth
your tongue; you will stop, brain blank,
as smooth ivory promises persist.
(interpretations mean less than nothing)
you will stop and rest,
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)
honesty isn't a weaknessI have a headache and not enough timehonesty isn't a weakness in Free Verse More Like This
to explain the irony of how I want to be
every pretentious poet making art out of
themselves, cutting open their side and writing
in blood and pixie dust; or how difficult
it is to make a good allegory out of carsickness
and household complacency. this
is every secret I ever hid. when I was 9
someone dissected the world in front of me,
showed me it was a living, wanting thing
and that I was just a lonely cell, functioning
through my dysfunction; when I was 11
the boy I liked told me he’d be interested
if I were prettier and I learned starvation
was more a state of mind than a presence
of being. when I was 13 I researched the lethality
of cleaning products, because god, I felt so dirty,
and nothing can clean you more than a couple cupfuls
of bleach. when I was 15 I was old and decrepit
and mostly dead, returning from war with flowers
for graves that weren’t filled and a heart of
tragedy, vulnerable and draped in every shade
of mourning f
it's the little things that follow you to sleeplately, i’ve been wasting every minuteit's the little things that follow you to sleep in Free Verse More Like This
choking on inevitabilities; wondering
how many times i’ll promise myself
this year i’ll be different until
i move on to something less
unattainable. truthfully, i’m just sorry
for the ones who still think
and i have been waiting an
ugly amount of years for my
prophetic completion-- a love like
i say you’re beautiful when really i mean
you make my heart stop, like
i was born to meet you or perhaps
i’m actually breaking some universal law
of equilibrium; loving something
i want a love like that:
napkin poems, handwritten
and tender and accidental collisions
igniting a thousand forest fires
beneath my skin; me,
blossoming like a wildflower
on a california highway, basking
in the sun and ignored definition
of earthly limitations. i want to believe
that somewhere, there’s a boy
built of summer sunsets and shooting stars
for every homesick girl who never
quite fit in, t
ghostwriterhere, everyone’s pupils are dilatedghostwriter in Free Verse More Like This
and skin is stretched too tight
to expose the wind-swept spider webs
writhing beneath their porcelain composure
here, the shadows are afraid of us.
(and it is our desire
to finally come down to that place
at night, the rigid ghosts rock me to
sleep. their cardboard hearts and
inky eyes just begging to be seen
(it is only in the
darkness that I am
perceived to be more
than I am; holy
star to guide them
the current carries my name,
I have spent too little
too long on rivers that
only flow south
I vomit up saltwater and
try to remember,
resonanceiresonance in Free Verse More Like This
does she know the astrological significance
of the bruises starring along
your wrists? if I could, I’d
run away somewhere where
the sky is silent and the people
hate honest eyes. here’s my problem,
I’ve wasted all my time daydreaming
in the universe of your scars. I wonder
if substantiality is lethal.
[when will you move on
like you know what
you’re doing with your life,
like this tiny existential
failure is only a hazard sign
on the roadmap of your journey,
like the world weighing down
upon your shoulders is an
exercise in vanity and quietude
instead of someone
lists of necessities: methods of
starvation, hours to fall asleep by, sharp
objects, words that mean nothing.
I’m sorry this isn’t better. I’m sorry
I’m not better and I’m sorry
nothing is bright anymore.
things you remind me of:
the november sky
right before it rains.
casual blasphemyfor the past four yearscasual blasphemy in Free Verse More Like This
I’ve been in love with a boy
who’s too busy loving life to notice
I exist. I don’t think he’s ever seen me
past his tunnel vision living--
I’m in love with a boy who
wears black gauges and swears
he’s a deist who’s fed up with
the backwards-fucked system
that governs our lives; he talks to me
about the symbolic importance
of hunger and need and rebellion
and isolationism and death as
Orwell and Golding must have written it,
and, god, I just want to crack open
my ribs so he can see the literary
starvation destroying me, the not-quite
metaphoric devastation of my liver and
paper cuts scarring my heart. I want
him to talk to me about the reasons
we ought to avoid college
and capitalism and commitment and explain
to me what this all really means.
[I want to be so unflinchingly honest
with you that it will be as natural
and sinful as all the others
before, just without the glare
of bare skin and self-hate. I want to tell you
I Comfort MyselfWith a warm drink, whispering secrets to my own reflection.I Comfort Myself in Free Verse More Like This
The struggles that plague me, though none may know,
Are only for the ears of my quiet mirror, who smiles
Softly, warmly and with care. He tells me, I'm fine
I've done well for now and soon I may finally rest.
Though the silence continues to press upon me,
Weighing upon my soul like an iron crate.
Still I find comfort in whispering secrets,
If only to my own reflection - holding a warm drink...
-Chen Yuan Wen, 17th October 2012
Whispers of the MadWhispers of the Mad:Whispers of the Mad in Free Verse More Like This
Your lips remain painted with the scars of torment
Carved so as to split with every word of speech
The glass that slices through your softened flesh
Bears the marking we know as 'Vinashuka'
And now he lies beneath the falling sand
Drowning in a world that is sinking away
Though his feet will seek the stability of ground
He finds himself caught by 'Vinashuka'
A disturbing word that rings hollow at best
For it carries the tone of a tainted solitude
A heart that has been corrupted by physical pain
Can only scream 'Vinashuka!'
How does a man know when he has gone insane?
To descend into a world where logic is naught
A moon that carries the colour of blood
Shall paint my skin with 'Vinashuka'
I have lost all sense of meaning in this place
There is no where else for my soul to flee
Caught within the whispers of delusory madness
I can only repeat Vinashuka...
-Chen Yuan Wen, 13th July 2012
A Shattered IllusionA Shattered Illusion:A Shattered Illusion in Free Verse More Like This
A day that was born of the brightest light
Has now shattered like crystals in the sinking dark
Where once the spirit was unfettered and free
Now it weeps painfully in a cage of thorns
Blood is drawn from its tender flesh
And drips slowly down to mark the skin
A tattoo of pain forever remembered
By a ghost that lives within
There is emptiness in this void
A cold and lonely song of existence
A solemn note born from the sheer magnitude of the silence
That it deafens both the heart and mind
In the quiet serenity of utter despair
What is born from the lack of a sense of hope?
A cold determination to steal the future
From the wanton wheel of fate...
"Such is the nature of desperation, when caught in an endless cycle of hate..."
-Chen Yuan Wen, 10th July 2012
The Real WritersThe Real Writers:The Real Writers in Free Verse More Like This
There are those who sit with their laptops and tablets,
Clothed in a scarf and an artistic hat of some sort.
They ponder; leaving a stack of books beside them,
Sipping their decaf as though they are literature personified.
What works do they prepare, other than blatant copies,
Perhaps a half-baked romance designed to woo a lady.
So convinced are they, of their own aptitude;
They are blinded by the beams of their burgeoning ego.
For the writer is not the man who is tapping away at keys,
He is not the man fervently reading with lensless glasses.
He is not the hipster debating ancient literature.
For he is a monster, wearing human skin.
He is the deranged madman, eccentric, uncanny.
He is the one who sits catatonic;
An entire world of fantasy playing in his mind.
He has gone through millions of scenes,
Thousands of scenarios, hundreds of plots
And dozens of characters.
He is not the man you expect him to be,
For a true writer is utterly WEIRD.
The Secret GardenThe Secret Garden:The Secret Garden in Free Verse More Like This
To those who are waiting in the silent shadows;
To the sisters I've been trying so hard to find.
It is time we came together as one
For here we shall leave the past behind...
In this secret garden, my voice is clear
Soft and gentle like the flowing wind.
Yet here I am; a dirty spirit
A simple soul that sinned...
Gathered in silence, bearing cowls of night
You've come like moths, to a burning light.
These lovely witchlings, so tender and lush
Soon I will give you, a blessed blush...
Take my marking into your flesh
And bear the stigma of our ancient creed...
Tonight you feast in my humble honour
For in your bellies I have planted seed.
Soon it will grow and begin to mature
You will feel it breathing inside your heart.
The gift to change this wretched world;
But first it must be torn apart...
"I am Chaos and I am sin..."
-Chen Yuan Wen, 26th April 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
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
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
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
I Like To Play With SkinI Like To Play With Skin:I Like To Play With Skin in Free Verse More Like This
My dear friends and watch,
As the feeling of life itself
Crumbles beneath each ounce of pain.
Needles slowly piercing into the body,
Paralyzing nerves and expressions.
A mask of pure horror; living terror,
Kept alive on the barest limit of the border.
Such tempting features,
Leave me eager to slip a knife beneath flesh.
Ripping soft layers of epidermal mache,
Tanned and dried, woven slowly into a loving mask.
And with my latest acquisition complete,
Only twenty spaces remain...
-Chen Yuan Wen, 28th April 2013
Last night,I broke every bone in my bodyLast night, in Free Verse More Like This
so I could have a reason to drown
in the isolated ocean inside me.
when my dilapidated lungs finally caved in,
I swam ashore and crawled across the polluted sand.
Only glass-edged skin
and salt-licked eyelashes
can help me now.
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.
AquariusShe is the winter's heartAquarius in Free Verse More Like This
and a January zephyr—
amethyst ankles frozen in time.
(eleven stars circulate her glacial ribs)
Forever shin-deep in the seas of
a conformed humanity,
she shall always sanctify the stains.
IcarusSun girl,Icarus in Free Verse More Like This
the whispering stars
& feathered clouds dance
for you tonight.
Do not let anyone
clip your wings;
you were made for the skies.
sati(ate)dit's ironic,sati(ate)d in Free Verse More Like This
isn't it? the way
they say "hunger gnaws"
like the way our teeth
scrape against bones.
for all the
calories that are counted,
you still feel
empty. you aren't
you are digesting
nothing but air
and maybe your own guilt.
that's just the way
living is these
glass shards to
slice up your insides so
you can ignore
the other kind of pain your
stomach is feeling.
but when people ask
if you're doing okay you just
smile and nod even though
you can't help but
think "if honesty was
tangible, i'd eat it right
an acquired taste and
some days you'd
like to rip your
phantoms from a sleepless mindmost nights,phantoms from a sleepless mind in Free Verse More Like This
it takes a war to close
my eyes, & even then i
still see monsters.
my mind is a cemetery
full of whispers
best not mentioned
(because you'd never
believe me if i told you).
i just want to be free.
to wake up with a
craving for sunshine &
supernovas nestled in my
rib cage, instead of thorns
beneath my skin & bones
between my teeth.
Unheard of and undefinedSometimes,Unheard of and undefined in Free Verse More Like This
I have this sudden impulse to
bite off my tongue.
It wasn't made for
pretty words and kept promises
in the first place.
Back to back and
straight on til daybreak,
our soliloquy seems never ending.
When was the last time
you remembered to cry for all the broken hearts
that were not your own?
CapriciousWords have becomeCapricious in Free Verse More Like This
tasteless to me,
like rotten apples
fit for the worms.
it feels as
though I am
pirouetting my way through
a ballroom full of
tongues made for poetry.
wicked witch when
you need one?
All I seem to do is
dream while I'm awake and,
if we're being honest,
I was never much of an alluring tale
in the first place.
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."
Open Heart SurgeryI've got ink throbbing through fissured veins,Open Heart Surgery in Free Verse More Like This
poisoning every atom of my soul.
"Bite your tongue," they say.
How I'd love to chew the damn thing off
and suck down every filthy syllable
just like the rotten bone marrow it is.
They'd all watch as my body spontaneously combusts
and becomes nothing but convoluted karma.
And so I wrote,
Teach me the ways of ripping out a human heart,
and stitching it onto ink-stained parchment."
The answer that came was rasped from a cauterized throat:
"Read your future in the collapsed palm of the stars;
find the abandoned pulse of your lionhearted muse;
steal their conformed scalpel and make it your own."
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.
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
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
a meaningful poem about nothing.this is a poem about how fixing peoplea meaningful poem about nothing. in Free Verse More Like This
is not romantic.
we’re not meant to be somebody’s answer,
we’re not meant to make someone feel alive again.
this is a poem about why you shouldn’t kiss him
because he’s broken
because you want to save him.
save yourself first.
kiss him because he holds a place in your heart, not
because he's the only thing making it pump.
kiss him because he’s in your life, not because
he is your life.
hold him, but don’t hold onto him because you believe
(get to dry land first.)
this is a poem about how i find poetry in everything.
breakups. my dad telling me i mattered.
nightmares. my neighbor’s insomnia.
how it drove him crazy.
how he swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills to fix it.
my neighbor’s funeral.
this is a poem about the split-apart theory.
the idea was that when humanity became arrogant
toward the gods, we were split in two
and were doomed to spend our live
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
two-fifty an hour.let me save you the trouble:two-fifty an hour. in Free Verse More Like This
because what i'm trying to say is
i'm not a good person.
i don’t tell valerie about how i planned to rekindle
my friendship with charlie’s best friend last year
just so i could get to him and hurt him.
(i don’t tell her how, in the end, i ended up liking
his friend instead, and charlie dated another
fifteen year old
because shit happens and what was i doing,
expecting things to go my way?)
there are certain things she doesn’t need to know,
certain things i can’t say because
putting it into words what it was like waking up,
that sort of shame that came with it –
it was like – it was like looking into a window
and swearing there’s a monster behind it
before, slowly, i realized
it was a mirror.
what therapy promises me: love yourself, forgive but
never forget, tell us your past
then let it go.
what i learn in therapy: nobody has all the answers.
we certainly don’t.
zero.5. I think I'm afraid of sex.zero. in Emotional More Like This
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
boys that want you, boys that love you.1.boys that want you, boys that love you. in Free Verse More Like This
there are four kinds of love.
the first is honest.
the first is messy.
it’s smeared makeup.
it’s tears over a martini.
it’s people dancing alone.
it’s off-key singing, at the top
of your lungs.
it’s unmade beds.
it’s the hickey on your neck.
it’s the gasp he gave
when he first saw you,
how he missed your lips
when he tried to kiss you.
after he made you cry.
the second kind is what you feel
for the boy lying next to you.
there’s cigarettes in the ashtray,
panties on the floor,
a lump in your throat,
and he does not love you back.
the third kind is when you'll meet
and that little moment will stretch
into something huge and permanent,
into a month/six months/a year
of a million glances that you'd thought
it’s when you'll say nothing
and neither will he
because there will be no need
because he'll very nearly smile
and you'll know.
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
listen:1.listen: in Free Verse More Like This
People will let you down.
You’ll love them, anyways.
Don’t let anyone romanticize
It won’t be beautiful
when somebody breaks your heart
the first time
or the second
or the eighteenth.
Pain is not beautiful.
Maybe on paper
but not inside of you
not in numbers.
A million people
but you’re still here,
and that's important.
You're doing something
My father told me
“Be selfish –
if you don’t take care of you
I liked to think
that this is the reason
he ignored me
I don’t have good advice
on this one.
Because the people who let you down,
are the ones promised to save you.
Are the ones promised to love you
and protect you
and I’ll tell you,
nothing quite hurts
like waking up in the morning
to the police in your doorway.
Nothing quite hurts
like being eleven
and hearing a cop say
“Poor girl had to live wi
Lend me a kissLend me your sweet lipsLend me a kiss in Free Verse More Like This
Give me a soft kiss
Stay with me till the end
Let's stop playing pretend
Don't let my heart break
Let's learn from our mistakes
I'll let your love embrace
Mend me with your lovely grace
They never leave my mind
Your cherry colored lips
The roses that I have picked
And the sweetness that one day I'll kiss
I'll wipe off your tearsTrust me when I say this, everything will be alrightI'll wipe off your tears in Free Verse More Like This
I’ll be here, to comfort you every moment of your life
Cry on my chest if you like, only if it lets you feel right
Because I will always be here, right by your side
I know some things can be unexpected,
And sometimes the bad can’t be evaded
But I’ll try my best, so you can be able to rest
And I’ll try my best to relieve you from stress
Because I care too much to leave you with pain
It tears my heart to see you like this again
You’ve told me to step back, but it's too sad and tiring
I promise you, this will be the last time you’ll be crying
The tenderness that's herWith every word written, with every word spokenThe tenderness that's her in Free Verse More Like This
I try my best to express myself, without it being broken
For what I feel is deep in my heart, is love that I want to be showing
Every day it develops, every day I feel more loving
Is the tenderness of passion, which I’ve never felt before
A feeling that I got from a girl who I truly adore
Beautiful as a rose and gentle as a peaceful dove
My heart gets filled with warmth, a feeling I describe as love
She’s the most beautiful girl I’ve seen, that’s as simple as I can be
So very cute and filled with joy, she’s the only girl who I want to see
Her adorable smile that always cheers me up, she’s the only one I need
She’s everything I ever wanted, I thank god that he gave her to me
Hard TimesI see you’ve been weeping for some time nowHard Times in Free Verse More Like This
You’re all torn out and cold
Even if all you see is darkness
You’re the bit of light that’s shining
And I know you don’t have control
But you can't just let go
Because if one day you do, you might lose yourself
Then I’ll be left alone, with no one to hold.
I'm afraid of losing you.I don’t know if you feel it too, the feeling of wanting to break looseI'm afraid of losing you. in Free Verse More Like This
And just screaming “I love you” but I’m scared that we might lose
Because just of our age, or the time, or any person that doesn’t want you to be mine
But I know that if this goes wrong I’d be the one who'd cause the crime
I’m a bit afraid; one false move would make everything go away
And I’m always left wondering if what I’m doing is okay
I just want everything to be alright between you and me
Or is there something that I cannot see?
My head is rambling with questions that fear is inventing
Maybe is not fear, maybe it’s because I’m too caring
Am I paranoid? I don’t want to make a mistake
You said I’m doing things right, then why do I always shake?
If I kiss youWhat if I kiss you?If I kiss you in Free Verse More Like This
What if I pull you close?
And whisper you the truth
Will you say “I love you”?
Because you shine light into this dark room
I wish I could turn the whole world to slow-mo
Just so I could see this beautiful flower bloom
Maybe then you’d see how much you mean to me
I go on my days with my heartfelt thoughts
Warmth is what you’ve brought into my feather heart
And all of this just feels like the start
I know that one day, we will never be set apart
You're worth waiting forLet’s take it slow, if you want us to growYou're worth waiting for in Free Verse More Like This
Our love is our gentle abode, and I just want you to know
That my patience is unknown, but for you, I will hold
I’ll just have to flow, and always remain with hope
Because much time has already passed
And a lot has happened, so sudden and fast
But with each moment, we get closer and forget the past
With each mistake, we start growing, with each, we understand
But now that patience is a big part of my life
I hope that one day, you'll also be mine
It could take a while, it could also be soon
But none of that really matters, because I truly belong to you
Shattered heartWith this broken heart I'll keep moving onShattered heart in Free Verse More Like This
And the scar you left me will help me become strong
For my heart used to be so numb, but then you showed me love
Sadly then you shattered it, once you saw I held you dear
But I hope you don't regret what you have done
For what I felt, you'll only receive it once
Please, don't give up.You’re not alone, even if you feel such sorrowPlease, don't give up. in Free Verse More Like This
Please try to calm your mind and forget about tomorrow
I know that life can hurt, but from my happiness you can borrow
Please don't cry anymore, I will help you with the troublesome morrow
Even if the bad seem to be everywhere you go
Just keep in mind that you have to stay away from what’s below
And I know that you’ll learn from these bad experiences
So then you can help those who are inexperienced
Please don’t be sad, everyone has a reason for his or her existence
You can’t ever give up, push through and have resistance
The worst thing you could do is to lose all of your hope
Just promise me that you will try to never mope
Apart from loveThey say they never workApart from love in Free Verse More Like This
But we will let them know
It’s hard enough being alone
But it’s even harder without each other
Because, even though you’ve left my side
I can still hear you cry
Fear that brings all the doubts and lies
Forgive me please if I can’t show you my love from so far
Your heart and mine,
They’re fragile by the tides
We’re bleeding and bleeding
With nowhere to hide
We’ve got no home,
When we’re set so apart
Expensive LiesI sit and stare at the toilet bowl.Expensive Lies in Free Verse More Like This
A guy I know is bulimic.
When we compliment him
I see the twist of agony in his eyes
as his brain reprograms it
to sound like an expensive lie
that costs him another tear
in his tattered dignity.
Friends hurry to him,
to reassure him, to love him.
They tell him how beautiful he is.
We didn't know him before,
but he's definitely not fat now.
We whisper things in concern like;
body dysmorphic disorder.
'I know you'll never believe me
but you are so gorgeous -
not just on the inside.' Not just.
And they're right, I join in,
because they are right to say it
because it happens to be true -
he is stunning. Not just on the outside.
And we want him to see himself
the way we see him, beautiful.
And I join in because
I've felt that strangle of pain
in my stomach, bowels and belly,
when someone used to tell me lies.
So I know how he feels.
Only, he is beautiful on the outside
and I'm not.
He's not seeing reality in the mirror
and I am.
And people rush to correc
Losing my BreathIt's 2amLosing my Breath in Free Verse More Like This
and the calling birds
are hatching in my heart,
I feel it crack and they emerge.
Feel them drilling on my ribs,
the steady anxious thrum
of a flight risk
waiting to happen.
and I can't breathe,
memories of you
are nesting in my throat
I can't work around them.
It's cutting off the circulation,
and my frantic heart
tries to keep on.
and tears scratch their directions
into my cheeks,
they flounder and meander
and they erode.
My skin and soul is scraped down
layer by layer
and another day is heralded
by the angry flutterings in my chest.
I try to swallow my pride,
dam the tears
and crawl through the dark again.
Coughing up blood
and inhaling iron filings
(The remainder of
what used to be my life).
Perfect on PaperWe cut heartsPerfect on Paper in Free Verse More Like This
into paper to make streams
That was my impression of it.
That you ripped
the pieces you didn't want
until you got something that was
It's no wonder
that I can't believe that someone
would think I was paper-perfect,
Beautiful LiesYou painted a neon yellow streakBeautiful Lies in Free Verse More Like This
across my ankle
and told me I was art.
I raked a venomous red line
across your throat
and replied: and you're a liar.
40810If only you were soulless.40810 in Free Verse More Like This
If you were mindless, blind,
you and I could make a beautiful disaster.
The press would write of our brief affair;
they'd paint me (the woman in red) as pathetic.
They will not consider how I need your love
or how it pains me so deeply to throw myself at you.
I will not be remembered as a poet warrior.
I'll be the eternal survivor no more.
All who think of me will shake their bowed heads
and tearfully remark;
If only you were soulless.
If you were mindless, blind,
You wouldn't have been such a bloody disaster.
CarvedYou are an oak carved tableCarved in Free Verse More Like This
that has been hewn and hacked
from its original pure form
into something someone found useful.
I was screwed tight together
with fixtures, fights and fittings
by so-called master craftsmen,
who wanted me to be firm,
who wanted my artificial endurance.
Men who wanted my knots undone
and for me to hold them up,
but I am a chair, and you are a table.
You have told me of the days
when seventy percent of you
was forcefully ripped out
leaving a splintered hollow behind.
I know how abrasive people
rubbed you up the wrong way
with sand paper to keep you quiet,
and with words to keep you down.
Plain men with plained minds
that have been stroked to the quick
and left only with the core
of their brutal carver instincts.
I know how you were made, table.
I am five pieces nailed together
With sticky tape for good measure.
You are one whole still, somehow
and when I need you, you are stable
and your legs are thicker than mine,
run faster and bear more pressure
on your leve
Flora at the PassHear me read itFlora at the Pass in Free Verse More Like This
I will never write of the cherry tree,
or think again on its impermanent beauty;
its delicate and breakable bones
or the pale flush of it's cheeks. I will not.
I will never again be pleased
to see its arms outstretched to embrace.
I won't call it my favourite,
or dream of it's presence at the momentous;
but at my wedding, there will be spring-bloom.
In my bouquet, my hair, my heart.
Enthralled in every quiet bud
of every quiet moment, cherries will be.
At my funeral, similarly,
entwined through my white coffin,
there will be the soft reflection
of its frostbitten petals. Even then.
For no matter what I am, or who,
there will always be blossom in spring.
There will always be cherries in my life;
and there will be flora at the pass.
GrowthI remember the day I caught him 'gardening'. His cheeks stained cherry with the brisk wind that trotted beside him up and down the smothered garden path. He dropped a seed as his feet brushed past each other. Up and down he walked, a solemn lieutenant. I asked him what he was doing and those wide sky eyes reflected the ice as he told me he was trying to grow flowers for his mother. I looked at the seeds spilt on the snow and told him that they could never grow in these circumstances. I will never forget the clench in my heart when he responded, with a child's tongue; "I know".Growth in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
MaybeJust give me one dream that isn't see-through.Maybe in Free Verse More Like This
One substantiated claim to reality,
that I might hold onto life with.
Every quivering cell, mid-osmosis, begs you
for a shred of dignity with my tea.
Just one chance for something heavy,
something hard and room temperature. Real.
I don't want to look through my day dreams
and see someone else's face there.
I don't want to dream of those people
who may make, or break me, in the future tense.
I am tired of milky white and reflective black.
It is time for a life of colour and hope -
and not looking back to see if the past
matches up with the jigsaw map to the end game.
I want to be in the game, participating,
feeling, like I might make it there one day.
Just give me something, that I can hold onto;
something harder to see through than a whisper
of that voice in the back of my mind that says
Framed[ I met him at the county fair.Framed in Free Verse More Like This
It wasn't like the songs predicted;
I had mud up my shins and he
had grass in his hair. What a mess. ]
[ I kissed him at my grandma's house.
He swallowed me and digested me;
I became a part of his simmering self.
We fused together, and I died. ]
[ I married him in a triangular church,
When I turned up in white he grinned
and whispered "what, no muddy knees?".
I put a leaf from my bouquet in his hair. ]
[ He kissed her at my grandma's house.
She had left it to us when she passed.
In the house where I'd learned about love
he taught me all I know about betrayal. ]
[ He left me at the train station.
I'd helped him with his leather suitcase,
struggling to get a grip of the situation
I gave a habitual kiss goodbye. Awkward. ]
[ He met another girl in group therapy.
They had a mad, passionate affair for a year
then, it expired. Shortly after, she did too.
He came to me, life turning to sand. ]
[ I forgave him at my birthday party
surrounded by friends wh
.my cat has nine. in Free Verse More Like This
lives and i fear he will
spend each one doing
the same fucking
staring out of the
window at the birds on
the fence, when he could be
out there, sinking his
.when her love left, it left. in Free Verse More Like This
the house empty
and she says
i hope one day it'll
come back to me,
cos i don't keep this shotgun
on my front porch for nothin'
.you bring me flowers. in Free Verse More Like This
red linen petals
atop plastic teal-green stems,
i don't think that we're
.i dream of drowning in. in Free Verse More Like This
lakes, belly up, a petal
shaped bruise of your thumb
on either wrist
i dream that what lays
in my bed is so much
more terrifying than what
lurks underneath it
.she calls down angels. in Free Verse More Like This
just to burn their
to see them rise then
fall, those flailing
she tells them, this
is what it's like
to be human
and they say judgement
will arrive for you, my
girl, you will be
cleansed by burning
and i strike another match
.she carries more mistakes than. in Free Verse More Like This
there are stars, behind her
a lifetime of
a human supernova
.i dug up the. in Free Verse More Like This
past again, those
i set them loose
inside the house
and now we have
.hangman, could you show. in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
me the ropes? i'd rather do
it all on my own
.death says he's a busy man. in Free Verse More Like This
got places to go and
people to see
book an appointment on the way out
preemptive breakup poemif anyone ever tells you your sadness isn't physical,preemptive breakup poem in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
show them the ache in your bones,
the raw skin on your arms or wrists or hips or thighs,
the imprint of your foetal body on your mattress from the days you couldn't bear to leave.
and you see this?
this is what hurt looks like.
i want you to look closer, lean in a little until you can feel the sadness on my breath
and i want you to watch my eyes. count how often they blink and count how many of them are forcing back words i still can never say.
i don't want you to miss a second of how you make me feel.
i want to be what keeps you up at night
i want to be the reason you can't eat
or laugh at your favourite tv programs
i want to be the reason
you walk with your eyes on the pavement
because too many things
remind you of me
i want you to feel the soreness of a heart unloved
loudly enough that the beating is mute and slow
loudly enough that you keep your hands in your pockets
when you move through the city so you don't touch any
lovedrunkshe looks at me, all big doe eyes and cupid-bow lips, tells me, now i'm not trying to say i'm about to kill myself, but i'm about to kill myself.lovedrunk in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
the traffic light is glass. not that it's reflective, not that it's bright, but that it's so slow, a liquid, moving like a year. it's also what my blood has become with these words.
we're in my car but i'm scared. i know i'm the one behind the wheel, but i don't know what she's got in her purse. i don't know her name but i do know she's drunk. so am i. i know we shouldn't be driving but i couldn't leave such sad eyes at a bar. i guess, if i'm being entirely honest, i also couldn't leave such a beautiful body at a bar, either. especially if some guy with worse intentions than i couldn't pass her up.
talk to me, i say. i don't glance up from the road because i'm scared of what i'll see, and what i won't.
you're not my fucking therapist, she tells me. i know she's wearing red lipstick and i imagine it turns to venom with those words.
no one listensthis is the part where you start listening.no one listens in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
i'm not one to pour my words,
cheap wine no glass just red solo cup,
into an empty room.
i'm not one to talk when everyone
only pretends they're listening when really,
they're just hearing.
the part you start listening
comes at the part where i show you my skin.
i could show you my heart all i want
but you won't hear me.
i could tell you about every moment
i've spent basking, drowning
in whatever endless emotion
and you would nod sympathetically.
but you still wouldn't listen.
not til i show you my skin
screenprinted and scattered in scars,
hatchmarking of blended bends
and tall and stretched.
or if i told you how i've left my body
in shambles, and left it, broken
and rained on like cardboard boxes on city streets
five years after my destruction proved inadequate
until someone else
with fracturing fingers
ruined me worse.
my bones splintered under the thin
stretch of skin
covering them until i grew thick limbs,
a trunk like a tree.
the death of selfi can't find words tothe death of self in Free Verse More Like This
i can't articulate
and blood doesn't stick-
i am stuck with my self
and the monsters
who have inched in,
night by night
until their figures
loom over me,
i am mourning.
the loss of you,
no matter how temporary;
to destroy my body
beyond its crumbling pillars;
the sadness in every cell
that contains the ocean,
wave after wave of thorough dejection,
apathy and agony
that nothing seems to solve.
i do not move.
i exist because it is what i know to do.
i breathe only because it takes effort to stop.
the hole in which i am buried
is filled with heavy, sodden soil
and my blood offerings
and constantly emptying myself
receives no mercy from a deity,
i am mourning
the death of my self.
the first poem i wrote since i told you i love youthe star-soaked stainsthe first poem i wrote since i told you i love you in Free Verse More Like This
that covered our nudity
gives way at last
to a tequila sunrise,
so low in the sky;
it's still bright enough
to sting my eyes,
and yet i can't bring myself
to hate it.
your body next to mine,
every effort is made
to move a heavy limb
because any space
is space i don't want.
i am sometimes humbled
by my feelings,
the way they swell
in my throat
just how the ocean
tastes the shore.
there is always something new
to find hidden in my heart,
summoned by my words,
or the salt of your skin
wearing like wind on shale
i don't think i can ever tell you
i love you enough.
if i could, i would never get dressed
so that you could never be sad-
a rewind every time
my clothes touch the floor,
never anything but nude, not naked
because with you i can be bare
i can let you see my entirety
and leave my arms uncrossed,
i can let you in
and not fear that you will break me,
or force my inner things out.
i can love you with open arms
and my lip
on an envelopewhy do my d's and l's look like yours when i write your name?on an envelope in Free Verse More Like This
it's just been a little carousel,
spinning in pirouettes,
in my mind all day.
all i know is i'm glad i don't love you.
i don't know why you aren't relationship material-
in all honesty, you are.
i don't know why you treat me like your girlfriend-
kissing my forehead,
holding me gently,
touching me sweetly,
asking to see me,
sixty miles out of the way
in a city i can fall in love,
with no promise of sex-
all i know is i'm glad i don't love you,
& i hope it stays.
wasting usi want you, okwasting us in Free Verse More Like This
i want you to be on your knees
all scraped and red and raw
like you're a child again
because that's all you ever
i want you to be aching
the way i've been aching
since the last rays of summer
said goodbye to us,
goodbye to us
and i want you to never forget
that just because
you don't remember my birthday,
that doesn't mean
forget the feel of my skin
for the first time
and that someday
this memory will stop hurting.
it never will,
and i promise you this:
every time it crosses your mind-
while you wait at the bus stop,
during a chemistry exam,
the next time a girl touches you
with her heart and not just her fingers-
every time it crosses your mind,
you're going to remember me
in extraordinary detail
and see me
like the extraordinary person
that i am,
when someone you loved becomes a memoryi'm interested in things falling,when someone you loved becomes a memory in Free Verse More Like This
and being forgotten.
i like to see
it makes me realise
i'm not the only thing
when i look,
i see passing eyes
roam the lines of my arms,
italian winding roads,
and quickly rush away
into their houses.
nobody likes to watch
if it isn't a crash,
a tragic accident,
an innocent death
at a hundred miles per hour,
but a drawn out,
a condemned building
with cracking windows-
you will always see
the whites of their eyes
as they turn away
so as to never meet
why jk rowling embodies depression as dementorsi wanted to talk to you about happinesswhy jk rowling embodies depression as dementors in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
but i don't think anyone in this room is qualified to talk about something
they probably don't know much about, and
how it spends most of its time
seeping out of your skin in whatever ways it can
because maybe your body is too toxic for it.
that's when you start having your moment.
the moment when you're not sure
how to be alive,
when strings become nooses
in the stars of your eyes,
thin objects mock your bones
and the instruments of your heart
act like knives thirsting for blood.
pavement shatters underfoot.
the cracks become teeth,
sharp and unfriendly as you pass;
they're grey, great sheaves of skin.
the world is alive, but unfriendly and cold.
so we sink back into what we're used to.
the way settling into sadness
is like settling into bed after a long day.
so they put you on everything they can find.
prozac, where you stayed miserable.
abilify, where you stayed miserable.
seroquel, where you stopped eating
when being treated for having stoppe
photographsmaybe it's weirdphotographs in Free Verse More Like This
or maybe it's beautiful
but i picture every boy
i might end up with
taking photographs with me -
we are at the beach
by grey waters
in the atlantic february ;
we are all angles of bone
& skin, just close enough
to make something beautiful ;
your back sinks like a
as you sleep in such peace
that even the shutter keeps
the silence safe
from its sound .
UndeservedI don't deserve to be an artist.Undeserved in Free Verse More Like This
I don't know how to hold deep meaningful conversations with strangers.
I don't lament at night about a lover I have lost.
I don't watch the white smoke ebb into darkness.
I don't spend lonely nights admiring the true beauty of the world.
I don't sleep restlessly from the truth of suffering within this world.
I don't lie through my smiles or struggle to create them.
But I do think I am a writer.
I am completely, irreparably damaged.
I cry all night over old words and emotional baggage.
I weep over my lost innocence.
I spend nights wishing for skin against my own
I long for insomnia to inspire me.
I beg for worlds to collide so I can breathe.
So am I writer really?
Or just another misguided artist?
You call it Judgement, We call it SinEmily needs the words to understand that she isn't being unreasonable. She just wants them to mean something and not be a string of words which flows into itself over and over again.You call it Judgement, We call it Sin in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
She doesn't like her name either. Not because Emily isn't a pretty name but because she would rather be called something she feels like. (She has never quite forgiven her parents for choosing her name for her.) If she could, she would call herself Glass, because that is what she wakes up feeling like every morning. As if crystallised pieces of glass are edible and her insides tingle as she swallows them whole.
Emily lets the words call her names sometimes. She writes them on her knees so that she can remember them. Sometimes the words call her a whore, and sometimes stupid, and sometimes a loser and sometimes a tramp (She has never learnt that loving too much is a crime and boys with pretty eyes sometimes lie.). She sits in the bathroom with a pen the colour of blood and writes them carefully
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 their mother's cigarettes and their 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 best friend threw that drawing away on my seventh birthday and told me that someone like me was 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
FaithI love your belief in God.Faith in Free Verse More Like This
Not because it matches mine.
Because it makes you even more beautiful to me.
You are the dream I always wanted, but never had.
(God likes to surprise me. Well, consider me surprised.)
It makes me want to sleep every single night by your side.
I want to wrap my prayers around you.
I want to press my lips to the segments of your body.
If you asked, I would rest my head besides yours
and dream your nightmares for you.
(You shudder in your sleep. I don't think you know.)
In faith, I'll be your dreamcatcher.
In dreams, let me wish all your nightmares away
Sea of Liesi.Sea of Lies in Free Verse More Like This
My father never read me the story of Icarus. I found it for myself. I suppose he did not want me to know what it was like to almost touch the stars. But it was only after I had read the story did I even try to reach so far. It is a little like falling in love...and then drowning in the sea.
(I would be lying if I said the fall didn't break everything I had once believed was solid.)
My science teacher knew well that I was a dreamer. When I told her I believed fairytales were as real as love is, I could see the disapproval and disappointment in her eyes. I suppose thats why in her classroom, when I was asked what the greatest force in the universe was, I answered love. I suppose thats why she laughed and reminded me that love was as much a fairytale as the fairytales I believed in.
(She was wrong. Love exists...its just been broken into a million little pieces, set afloat in a sea of heartbreak.)
My mother didn't want to speak about t
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
Pros and Cons1. I am not writing a list of things that will make me hate you, as you supposed, but more a list that would help me move on. I always hated how you were very practical that way, even about emotional distress. I am not writing about the trouble with you being your incorrigible logic, your lack of tact.Pros and Cons in Free Verse More Like This
2. I am not writing this because I have a habit of doing what you say, and perhaps, just maybe this would give me closure.
3. I am not going to write about how beautiful your mouth is, and how it seems like something that would have been kisses by an angel.
4. I am not going to write about how your voice tremors when you speak of loneliness.
5. I am not going to write about how you are worthy of songs and dances and plays to be written for your lack of wonder at war, sex or alcohol, you aren’t that interesting.
6. I am not going to write about the day you sat me down and dragged me down with you, just so you could complain about how much I loved angel wings and sketches of pretty e
MouthfulsYou take mouthfuls of meMouthfuls in Free Verse More Like This
Huge, selfish as they are
Leaving morsels of me behind
Teeth my words and chew up my heart
Bite through my spine with shark like jaws
I am used, you explain, damaged,
Dirty for existing.
Dirty for loving you.
I ask you why you like to hurt me.
"I love you most when you ache on the inside."
I have never hated myself more.
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
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